Soft wind entered the room through the open window, moving the thin curtains gently. The room smelled faintly of flowers. Colorful blossoms were hanging on the walls, carefully arranged, as if someone had taken great care of this place. Everything looked neat, warm, and peaceful.
A nineteen-year-old boy was sleeping on the large bed in the center of the room. His face was calm, and his breathing was slow. He looked like someone who had no worries at all.
Suddenly, a man quietly peeked inside through the window. His movements were careful, almost playful. After making sure the boy was still asleep, he climbed inside the room without making much noise. He walked closer to the bed and slowly lay down beside the sleeping boy.
He turned toward him and gently placed his hand on the boy's chest, feeling his steady breathing. His touch was soft, familiar, as if he had done this many times before.
He leaned closer to the boy's ear and whispered in a low, warm voice,
"Morning has arrived. When will you open your eyes?"
The boy's eyes suddenly opened.
For a second, his mind was blank. Then reality hit him all at once.
He saw a stranger lying beside him.
Fear rushed through his body like lightning. He jumped up on the bed, his heart beating wildly.
"Who are you?" he shouted in panic. "How dare you sleep on my bed?"
Without thinking, he pushed the man away and started hitting his arm, trying to create distance between them. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at him with anger and fear mixed together.
The other boy did not fight back. He only looked at him with wide, confused eyes.
"What happened to you?" he asked slowly. "Why are you reacting like this, Ethan?"
The boy froze the moment he heard that name.
"Ethan?" he repeated quietly.
His hands stopped shaking for a moment. His mind felt dizzy. He slowly looked around the room. The walls, the furniture, the flowers—everything felt strange. Nothing looked familiar.
His breathing became uneven.
"Why is this place so different?" he thought. "This is not my room."
Then he looked down at himself.
He was wearing loose, soft clothes that looked old-fashioned, almost ancient. The fabric felt unfamiliar against his skin.
"Who dressed me like this?" he thought. "These are not my clothes."
Fear tightened his chest.
Slowly, his eyes moved toward the tall mirror standing near the bed. His legs felt weak as he stepped closer, each step heavier than the last.
He stood in front of the mirror.
His eyes widened.
"WHAT THE FUCK—"
His body froze as disbelief hit him all at once. His heart started beating wildly, and his breathing became uneven. The room felt like it was spinning around him.
Before he could understand anything, his legs gave up.
He collapsed on the floor.
Darkness covered his vision, and his mind shut down completely. Unable to handle the shock of seeing himself, he slowly lost consciousness and became unconscious right there, beside the mirror.