Kim did not wake up…
Sensation was the first thing to return to him,
a vague heaviness pressing on his chest,
as if his body no longer knew how to breathe without permission.
He opened his eyes slowly.
A simple wooden ceiling.
Old cracks in the planks.
The scent of warm herbs mixed with faint smoke.
Not the sky.
Not the void.
Not a dying world.
Kim exhaled slowly,
then tried to sit up.
He failed.
Pain exploded in his left arm like a muffled scream,
followed by another wave in his neck and shoulder,
as if the black veins that had begun to appear
were not signs…
but mouths devouring him from the inside.
He clenched his teeth.
He did not scream.
He hadn't done that in a long time.
He raised his hand before his eyes.
The darkness was there,
stretching beneath the skin like dead roots,
fixed… not spreading… not retreating.
He whispered hoarsely:
"…It didn't disappear."
He tried to gather life energy.
It responded… slowly… weakly.
He pushed it toward the veins.
Nothing happened.
As if the pain was beyond healing.
He lowered his hand,
and a faint smile crossed his face for a moment.
"As expected."
A shadow moved nearby.
Before he could turn,
his entire body tensed.
Chaos did not stir,
but its mere presence made the air heavy.
"Calm down…"
said a calm voice, slightly raspy.
"If we wanted to kill you… you wouldn't have woken up."
Kim turned slowly.
A middle-aged man,
plain features,
wearing modest cloth garments,
carrying no weapon…
and no fear.
"Where am I?"
Kim asked.
"In the World of Stillness,"
the man replied.
"A small village… by the river's edge."
Kim let out a short, dry laugh.
"A world?"
The man gestured around him.
"Here, we just call it our land."
Kim tried to stand again.
This time he succeeded… barely.
He staggered two steps,
then leaned against the wall.
The black veins pulsed.
The pain intensified.
The man noticed,
stepped forward…
then stopped,
as if afraid his closeness might disturb him.
"Your name?"
Kim asked coldly.
"Elan,"
he said without hesitation.
"And you?"
Kim hesitated for a second.
"…Kim."
The man asked nothing more.
Not about his appearance.
Not about the veins.
Not about the strange aura that made the place tremble.
He simply nodded.
And that…
made Kim more wary than fear ever could.
Outside the room,
the world was unnervingly calm.
Warm sunlight.
Children running barefoot.
Women laughing as they hung cloth to dry.
Men working the fields without haste.
No soldiers.
No towers.
No laws written in blood.
"Why did you help me?"
Kim asked suddenly.
Elan stopped walking
and looked at him with mild surprise.
"We found you breathing,"
he said.
"Should we have left you?"
Kim did not answer.
In his world,
the question itself was stupid.
They seated him near the river.
Wrapped his arm in bandages,
applied herbs with a sharp scent,
simple… primitive incantations.
The pain eased…
but did not vanish.
Kim felt that immediately.
"It won't work,"
he said coldly.
An elderly woman exchanged glances with the others.
She approached,
touched his hand gently.
"We don't heal everything,"
she said.
"But we try."
He yanked his hand away violently.
Looked at her with hard eyes.
"Trying doesn't bring back the dead."
A heavy silence fell.
Elan looked at him.
He did not get angry…
did not step away.
He said calmly:
"Neither does letting the wound bleed."
Kim turned his face away.
He wasn't used to this kind of answer.
Days passed.
The pain remained.
The veins did not disappear.
But…
they did not abandon him.
Food left nearby.
Clean water.
Cautious looks… but not fearful ones.
Kim remained angry.
Sharp.
Silent.
And at night,
when everything grew still,
time betrayed him.
He saw Jack.
He saw Mary.
He saw his mother.
Then he woke to pain.
One day,
a young man about his age sat beside him.
Dark hair.
Eyes honest in a way that was unsettling.
He didn't speak.
He just sat.
After a long silence, he said:
"If you want to hate us… do it."
"But don't hate because you're in pain."
Kim looked at him sharply.
"And who are you?"
The young man smiled faintly.
"My name is Nir."
"And I don't like long silences."
Kim did not respond.
But…
for the first time in a long while,
he didn't ask anyone to leave.
That night,
lying on his wooden bed,
Kim felt something new.
Not healing.
Not comfort.
But… the beginning of a bond.
And that
terrified him more than the pain itself.
Because deep down, he knew:
this world…
if he broke it…
he would never forgive himself.