Asher walked down the quiet street at night, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets and music playing softly through his headset. The neighborhood wasn't busy at this hour, but the rows of streetlights painted the road in warm patches of yellow, stretching ahead of him like a glowing path. Each light flickered slightly as he passed beneath it, and the evening breeze pushed gently against his back, urging him forward.
He had just come from the manga store. The plastic bag in his left hand swayed as he walked, the newest volume of his favorite series resting inside. He already finished the entire thing online, but adding the physical copy to his shelf always gave him a sense of completion. Buying manga had become less of a hobby and more of a ritual—something he did to keep himself grounded.
Eventually he reached his apartment building. He climbed the stairs lazily, still bobbing his head to the slow beat of the sad song in his headphones. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he gave a half-wave toward the living room where his parents sat.
"I'm home," he said automatically, though his headset muffled his own voice.
He didn't wait for a reply. He trudged up the stairs, entered his room, and tossed the manga bag onto his desk. After a quick shower, he changed into his pajamas: a simple pair of loose shorts and an oversized black shirt. He threw himself onto his bed and let the music fill the room again.
The playlist he chose played soft heartbreak songs—slow, emotional tracks, the kind that made everything feel heavier. It wasn't like he had ever been in a real relationship, but he still imagined fake scenarios in his head to match the mood of the music. He didn't know why he did it. Maybe the imaginary feelings made the songs feel more real. Maybe he just liked pretending that someone somewhere missed him.
Whatever the reason, it worked. The music hit harder, and his chest felt tight in a strangely satisfying way.
His eyes grew heavy. The melodies blurred into each other, fading deeper into the background. His thoughts drifted away from the room, from the walls, from the ceiling—until sleep slowly pulled him under.
---
Asher didn't know when it started, but suddenly he felt like he was drowning.
There was no water around him, but the sensation was unmistakable: pressure crushing his lungs, his body sinking deeper and deeper into something he couldn't see. He tried to breathe but nothing entered. His chest burned. Darkness swallowed the edges of his vision. He reached up with his hands, trying to grab something, anything, but there was nothing to hold on to.
It felt endless.
Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he opened his mouth in a desperate gasp—
—and air rushed in.
His eyes snapped open as he bolted upright, sweat dripping down his face, neck, and arms. He inhaled again, the breath shaky and uneven, but at least it was air. Real air. Crisp and cool.
He blinked several times, waiting for the blur in his vision to settle.
He definitely wasn't in his room.
Instead, he sat on the ground in the middle of a massive forest. Tall trees surrounded him—so tall he couldn't see where their branches ended. Their green leaves rustled quietly overhead, and the scent of fresh earth and plants filled the air. A soft beam of moonlight pierced through the canopy above, illuminating patches of grass and roots around him.
He looked down at himself. Still in his pajamas.
"What the…?" he muttered.
Before he had time to gather his thoughts, something rustled in the bushes nearby.
Footsteps.
Not slow, not cautious—fast.
He spun toward the sound, but before he could even stand up, something sliced past his ear. A faint whistle cut through the air, and the object buried itself into the ground beside him with a solid thunk.
An arrow.
Asher stared at it for a second, shocked, then slowly turned his head back.
A shadowy figure was flipping through the air, moving in a smooth arc that looked too precise to be human. She landed in front of him lightly, barely disturbing the leaves beneath her feet. Her posture was perfect. Her movements were controlled.
And her bow was aimed straight at his face.
Asher froze. His heart thumped so loudly he was sure she could hear it. She looked like she would shoot at any moment.
But then—her eyes changed.
It wasn't much, just a flicker of hesitation, but he saw it. She lowered her bow slightly, studying him. Her expression wasn't hostile anymore—it looked more confused than anything.
That tiny moment of hesitation was all he needed.
He slowly raised his hands into the air, palms facing outward in surrender. His arms trembled slightly, but he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.
"Uh… please don't shoot me…" he said quietly.
The woman narrowed her eyes and stepped closer. She said something—but Asher couldn't understand a single word. The sounds were soft, flowing, almost melodic, nothing like English. He shook his head, trying to signal he had no clue what she was talking about.
She tried again, speaking with slightly more emphasis, but he still didn't understand. Her shoulders dropped slightly, almost like she was disappointed. She let out a small sigh, then gave him a look he couldn't decipher—some mix of suspicion and pity.
Then she snapped her fingers.
Asher barely had time to react. A sudden force struck the back of his neck. The impact wasn't sharp or painful—more like a heavy blow that made his vision shake and his body lose strength instantly.
He collapsed forward, catching himself with his hands, but the ground felt far away. Everything blurred, fading into darkness.
Just before he completely blacked out, he managed one final glance at the woman.
Her long, pointy ears stood out clearly under the moonlight.
Is she an elf…? he thought hazily.
Then everything went dark.