The boy awoke from a dream that didn't feel like a dream.
He had been standing atop a giant clock tower, staring at a moon so close it seemed to breathe.
Its pale surface twisted, forming two enormous eyes and a mouth stretched in an impossible grin.
Then, the moon spoke in a voice that shook the heavens:
> "When your deepest doubts fade away,
cross the Black Sea and return to this very clock.
I shall whisper to you a secret unknown even to kings.
Until then—SEE YOU AT THE FESTIVAL! SRILILILILI!!!"
The boy jolted awake, gasping.
> "You're finally up, kid,"
said a deep, rumbling voice beside him.
Still dizzy, he turned his head.
A glass of water was held before him.
He took it with trembling hands, then froze when he saw the man offering it.
The man was enormous—his body thick and solid like stone, his clothes loose and old.
A golden gleam flashed whenever he smiled; his teeth were all made of gold.
A faint crack ran across his abdomen, yet a sweet scent like honey emanated from him.
On his forehead curved a single horn, sharp and gleaming like that of a sacred beetle.
> "I found you both lying unconscious in my field," the man said calmly.
"Oh, where are my manners? The name's Leonard Slave Doran.
Ban must've told you about me."
> "Ban?" the boy asked, confused.
> "Or do you prefer when I say Rastaban?" Doran chuckled.
The boy's expression darkened.
> "Who… are you really?"
> "Just a man trying to keep this land alive," Doran replied.
"But let's talk about you.
Who are you, where do you come from, and what were you doing in my field?"
The boy looked down, his voice shaking.
> "I… I don't know who I am.
I don't remember where I came from.
I don't even know how I ended up here… I'm completely lost."
> "Hmm. Don't worry about that, kid," Doran said softly.
"Then tell me—how did you end up in such a state?"
> "There was a fog," the boy began.
"And these strange, colorful petals… they surrounded us.
Then came the sounds—thousands of them—all at once.
We couldn't even think—just scream."
Doran's expression hardened slightly.
> "Poor child. You must be delirious from the shock.
When I found you, there was no fog, no petals—just the two of you lying there."
He leaned back, folding his arms.
Then his tone shifted, almost wistful.
> "You're not the first to fall from nowhere, you know.
It happens… quite often here.
But maybe I can shed a bit of light on your confusion.
Let me tell you the story of this strange kingdom."
Doran's gaze drifted toward the dark horizon.
> "Long ago, we living beings wandered a world of shadows—
a place without life, without color, without hope.
Then one day, a man clad in a vast yellow robe appeared.
He guided us to these lands and became our sovereign.
We called him The King in Yellow.
> For millennia, peace endured. But the world is never truly still…
There are six Theatres, each reflecting madness in its own way.
The one you stand in now is the Immutable Theatre."
The firelight flickered across his golden teeth as he continued:
> "I was born here. I've lived here all my life.
I can't give you all the answers, boy—
but there's a man beyond the Hill of Reversal,
a scholar of great knowledge.
He too came from another world.
Perhaps… he's the only one who can tell you who you truly are."
The boy's eyes widened.
Beyond the window, the endless field swayed under the pale light.
The fog had finally lifted—
but the feeling of being watched by something unseen lingered still.