Chapter 1 – The End of Two Lives
The streets were quiet that night.A soft wind rustled through the narrow alleys, carrying the faint scent of fried food and gasoline.
Nick Freyan was just another face in the crowd—a second-year high school student with no particular talent or fame. His grades were average, his hobbies ordinary, his dreams uncertain.
What set him apart, if anything, was that unlike most of his classmates, he worked a part-time job at the local convenience store. It wasn't glamorous, but it paid just enough for snacks, games, and the occasional treat for himself.
The store bell jingled as he stepped outside, the door sliding shut behind him.
"Thanks for today, Nick," his manager called from the counter.Nick turned, flashing a small, tired smile. "Yeah. See you tomorrow, boss."
He adjusted the strap of his worn-out backpack and started down the familiar road toward his apartment. It was a ten-minute walk—fifteen if he stopped at the fried chicken stall, which he often did. The smell from it was already drifting over, teasing his empty stomach.
"Maybe tomorrow…" he muttered to himself, patting his pocket where only a few coins clinked.
Streetlights bathed the road in a pale glow, and the occasional hum of a passing car broke the stillness. Nick found himself thinking about homework he hadn't finished, about the test next week, about what to cook for dinner.
It was just another night.Until it wasn't.
As he reached the pedestrian crossing, a deep, blaring horn tore through the quiet.
BEEEEEP!
Nick's head snapped to the side. His breath caught.A truck was barreling toward him, its headlights blinding.
"Wha—?!"
The driver's panicked voice echoed faintly from inside. "MOVE! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
Nick tried to run, but his legs felt like they had been chained to the ground. The sound of screeching tires filled his ears, sparks flashing as the truck's brakes fought against momentum.
In that fraction of a second, Nick's thoughts blurred—his parents' faces, his friends' laughter, the smell of his favorite food, the countless mornings he woke up late for school.
And then—impact.The world exploded into white.Sound, sight, and thought vanished.
Nick's life ended in that instant.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city…
The night was far less quiet.In the shadowed corners of an alley, the echo of cruel laughter lingered.
"Pathetic," a boy sneered, shoving his classmate to the ground. "You can't even fight back."Another joined in, kicking the fallen figure's side. "Look at him—he's not even worth the effort."
The one they were talking about—Miguel Kriss—just lay there, hands trembling, uniform stained with dirt from the asphalt. His lip bled, but he didn't wipe it. His body was still, not from bravery, but from the exhausting weight of defeat.
"Not even gonna cry this time? Guess you're getting used to it," one of them said mockingly before walking away.
Miguel didn't reply. He stayed there until their voices faded, until the sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the city noise.
Finally, he stood up, his back aching, his head throbbing. His hands slipped into his pockets as he began walking in no particular direction.
The bullying wasn't new. His grades were always near the bottom of the class. At home, the walls seemed to echo with silence or disappointment. His father barely spoke to him, his mother's words were filled with questions like "Why can't you be more like—".
And tonight was just another repeat of the same endless cycle.
As Miguel walked, the streets grew emptier. The hum of traffic faded into the distance. Eventually, his slow steps brought him to a bridge overlooking the river.
The water shimmered faintly in the glow of streetlights, ripples breaking the reflection of the moon.
Miguel stopped at the middle of the bridge. His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths.He gripped the railing, his fingers cold.
"…I'm tired," he whispered
He thought of all the times he had tried before. The pills. The blade. The rooftop. Each time, fate had dragged him back into the world he hated, as if to mock him.
"Not this time," he muttered. "This time, I won't fail."
His shoes scraped against the railing as he climbed over. The wind roared in his ears, tugging at his hair and uniform.
From here, the river seemed endless. The darkness below looked almost inviting.
"Goodbye," he said softly—to the world, to his family, to the boy he used to be.
For one small moment, he hesitated. A single, treacherous thought whispered: What if someone cares?
But there was no answer.
He pushed off.The air rushed against his skin. His stomach lurched as gravity pulled him downward. The city lights stretched above him like fading stars.
And then—SPLASH.
The water was colder than he imagined. It wrapped around him like a thousand knives, dragging him deeper. His chest burned for air, his arms flailed weakly, but the weight of his soaked clothes made movement sluggish.
"…help…" The word dissolved into bubbles. His eyes stung, his vision blurring as darkness closed in.
No one was coming.No one ever had.
And as the last bit of light vanished above him, Miguel Kriss sank into the abyss.
That night, in two separate corners of the same city, two lives ended.They had never met.They had no reason to know each other.
But death had other plans.
For them…This was only the beginning.