The pain was not an episode.
It was not a wave.
It was a state of being.
Kim realized this with the sunrise of the third day in the World of Stillness, when he opened his eyes and found no difference between waking up… and bleeding from within. He sat on the edge of the bed, placed his feet on the cold floor, and felt for a moment that time had lagged in catching up to his body.
His hand moved…
And a fraction of a second later, the sensation followed.
A minute delay, but Kim noticed it.
"…Not just my body," he muttered in a low voice.
He stood.
The black veins were clearer today. They hadn't spread, but they seemed heavier—as if they had taken root.
In the village's small square, a group of people had gathered. It was not a gathering of fear, nor loud curiosity. It was… a silent concern. An old man, his back stooped, his eyes clear despite his age, approached Kim slowly.
"I am Orin," he said. "The oldest healer here."
Kim looked at him without replying.
Kim sat down. Orin had not asked him to sit, nor had he ordered him. He merely gestured toward a wooden bench.
Orin touched Kim's arm cautiously, pausing at the black veins, and closed his eyes. Long moments passed. Then, he opened them. In his gaze, there was no fear—only bewilderment.
"This is not a disease," he said finally.
Kim let out a short, dry laugh. "I know."
Orin continued: "Nor is it a poison… or a curse."
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "This is… a consequence."
Kim clenched his fist. "A consequence of what?"
Orin hesitated. "A consequence of you remaining alive… when you should not have."
The square fell still. People exchanged illegible glances. Nir stood at a distance, watching without intervening.
"We have tried herbs," Orin said. "Rituals. Natural balance."
He shook his head slowly. "The pain does not respond… because it is not a flaw in the flesh."
Kim raised his eyes toward him sharply. "Tell me what you know."
Orin sighed. "The pain lives in time. And in something deeper than the soul."
A heavy silence reigned. Kim felt something stir inside his left eye. The clock hands… they trembled. He slammed his palm onto the table with violence. The wood cracked. Some people took a step back.
"You do not understand," Kim said in a low, yet broken voice. It wasn't an accusation; it was a fact.
He stood abruptly. "You want to cure me?" he said. "You won't be able to."
He turned to leave, but the voice of a woman stopped him.
"Perhaps not," she said calmly. "But we will not stop trying."
He turned back. It was the same old woman who had touched his hand before.
"Why?" Kim asked her.
She looked at him as a mother looks at a weary child. "Because you are here."
He found no answer.
In the night, the pain intensified.
Not just in the body. Time… began to fail.
He saw himself sitting by the fire, then standing by the river, then a child running in an ancient street. All of it—at the same moment.
He snapped his eyes open in terror. The room was dark. Someone was sitting near him.
Nir.
"You didn't sleep," Kim said.
Nir smiled. "And you are in pain."
Silence followed. Then Kim said suddenly: "Why aren't you afraid?"
Nir looked at him with sincerity. "Do you want the truth?"
Kim nodded.
"Because you haven't hurt anyone here," Nir said simply. "Even though you could."
Kim grit his teeth. "If you knew who I was…"
Nir interrupted him: "If we knew, would it change the fact that you are hurting?"
Kim fell silent. Nir sat closer, but without touching him.
"I don't understand what is wrong with you," he said. "And I don't need to understand." He looked at him. "But I know this feeling. To want the pain to justify your anger… and it won't."
Kim shot him a sharp look. "Don't you dare compare me to you."
Nir gave a faint smile. "I didn't."
He stood up. "I'll be here," he said. "Whether you want to speak… or be silent."
And he left.
Kim remained alone. The black veins pulsed. The pain did not subside.
But something else moved inside him… slowly.
Not hope, but a dangerous question:
What if… this world wasn't the problem?
And what terrified him more… what if he was?