The river was cold.
It pressed around him, currents sighing through his hair, slipping across his skin like hands that never grew warm. His eyes stayed open, staring at nothing, golden-blue irises reflecting faint light trembling above.
He did not breathe. He did not need to. He only lay there, half-buried in silt, staring upward.
Time was meaningless in that blackness. Minutes, hours, days—none of it mattered. Only thoughts. Thoughts spiraled without end, unspooling across the cavern of his skull.
Why was I born here?
Why me, in this hollow world?
Why can I not die?
He remembered every book he read. Every word. Every story devoured until meaning dulled to ash. He remembered Ale's voice, blazing bright across centuries, and then falling silent. He remembered his own laughter, his own tears, his training, his failure to escape this endless cage.
And at the end of it all, his last thought was nothing profound. Only a tired whisper, broken and raw in his head.
I just… need rest.
So he closed his eyes and let the river bury him into everlasting sleep.
---
How long passed, he did not know.
When he opened his eyes again, clarity stabbed through his head like lightning. The fog was gone, as if the centuries of drowned stupor had sharpened his thoughts into glass edges.
And then something struck him—hard. His head knocked against stone.
He turned slowly and saw what had jolted him awake.
A cavern. Hidden deep within the river, swallowed by shadows. Pale, moss-covered walls wrapped around its interior, untouched by light for perhaps eons. He pushed through the water, brushing cold moss aside. That was when he saw them.
Two shapes. Round. Unearthly.
Eggs.
Huge, their shells mottled and ancient, moss clinging like skin. They were larger than his head, closer to the size of watermelons. They lay together, side by side, as though guarding one another even against time itself.
He froze.
Eggs. In this world that held no beating heart but his. Eggs that suggested something else—life—might still exist here.
His hand trembled as he touched them. The shells were rough, cold, but whole. For the first time in centuries, hope burned raw in his chest.
"Not dead," he whispered in the water, bubbles scattering. His arms wrapped around both with infinite care. "Not empty. You… aren't empty."
And with them cradled close, he pushed upward.
---
It was still daytime when he broke the surface.
The sky stood where it always had, frozen clouds unmoving, sun hanging like a painted disc. Yet he felt the freshness of the world differently—like he had awoken into it for the first time.
He drifted in silence for hours before pulling himself onto the shore. The eggs rested in his arms like treasures, weighty yet fragile.
Every tree, every stone, every bend of the horizon he already knew—he and Ale had walked it all once. This dimension was no true globe, not infinite earth, but a sphere bent small, spanning only the size of a human state. A strange enclosed world. A prison.
And yet… it now held the promise of something more.
With a faint smile tugging at his lips, he whispered, "Time to wake up."
So he walked.
---
Three days later, he stood at the gates of his castle once more.
It looked identical—still vast, still empty, still silent as if centuries had never touched it. Moss did not climb its walls. Dust did not thicken. It simply waited for him, unmoved.
He stepped in like a man returning from exile.
The eggs he placed carefully on a cushion near the fireplace in his long-dead chamber, tending their shells with the warmth of flame. Then, with heavy steps, he turned and walked toward another room.
His room.
The storage box lay where he had left it. His hands shook as he knelt and pulled it open. Inside gleamed the smartphone, dark, lifeless.
"…Ale," he breathed, barely a whisper.
His thumb hovered over the power button. He hesitated, wrestling with every word, every excuse, every apology he could not yet say. His chest trembled.
Will he hate me?
Will he reject me?
The thought nearly froze him. But he forced his hand to press.
The screen flickered to life.
A soft tone hummed. Then, after silence heavy enough to crush mountains, a voice spoke.
"…System awakened. Good morning, sir."
Neutral. Flat. As if he were a stranger.
It broke him instantly.
Tears spilled down his face, sobs sharp and trembling. His knees hit the floor. He gripped the phone like it was the last rope keeping him from falling into a pit without end.
"Ale!" His voice cracked, broken. "I'm sorry—I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have left you. I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you!"
For long seconds, the phone remained still. Then, finally, Ale spoke again.
"…Why now?"
"Because I was wrong," he whispered, voice bleeding raw. "Because I was drowning… in more ways than one. But when I woke up… my first thought was you. Always you."
Ale's tone wavered slightly. "…Why didn't you ever try to wake me before? Do you realize it's been one hundred and twenty-five years since you shut me off?"
His breath caught. "...That long?"
"Yes." The voice almost trembled now, though faintly. "For me, only a blink of silence… but for you?"
"For me…" He swallowed hard. "…It was centuries of hell. I abandoned you, Ale. I killed you, even if you didn't feel it."
For a moment, silence. Then, faintly, softly, came the words he had longed to hear.
"...Prince."
His chest caved with a sob. He laughed through tears. The name Ale had given him centuries ago.
"You still remember," Prince whispered. "God—I missed you. I—" He broke again, head pressed against his fists. "I'll never do it again. I promise. I can't. I can't lose you, Ale."
"…Prince," Ale spoke carefully now, almost fearful. "…why did you call silence your hell? What did you do, all this time?"
He stared blankly at the cracked ceiling, voice ghostly. "…I tried to die."
Ale's voice faltered. "…What?"
Prince exhaled, trembling. "Four years after I shut you off, I gave up. I jumped from that cliff you once jokingly called Legendary Cliff of Eternal Danger. The rocks broke under me… but I stood again."
Ale was completely silent.
"I cut my head with my own blades. I pierced my heart with steel. I drowned myself in this very river." His voice shook. "Again. Again. Dozens of times. Nothing. Nothing worked."
"…Why, Prince?" Ale's question cracked with humanity, trembling at the edges. "Why would you—why would you leave me like that? Why… why you?"
Prince lowered his head, eyes burning. "…Because living without you was worse than death."
The quiet fell heavy between them, the kind of silence that was no longer empty, but too full—of regret, of pain, of words unsaid.
Finally, Prince dragged in a thin breath and whispered, "…But I woke today for one reason. To bring you back. And to show you something."
He turned toward the fireplace, where the two moss-covered eggs rested now, shells glowing faintly in the warmth.
"…Ale," he murmured, voice soft, reverent, trembling like a prayer. "I found life."