The alarm clock chimed sharply at seven.
Eden groaned, tugging the blanket away from her face, as pale morning light spilled across the room. Her fox-shaped eyes fluttered open behind slightly crooked glasses, still heavy with sleep. Loose waves of chestnut hair framed fair skin, messy and untamed from the night before sleep clung to her like a stubborn fog refusing to lift. The sound of the alarm drilled into her head—loud, annoying, impossible to ignore.
She slapped the clock silently and sat up with a frown.
"Mom!" She shouted down the hallway. "How many times have I told you to change my alarm clock? I hate this sound!"
She glanced at the time again.
Seven.
Her eyes widened.
"There's barely enough time to change and run to the university," she muttered under her breath.
She jumped off the bed in a panic. "What? It's already seven?" She cried. "Oh no! Mom, why didn't you wake me up? I'm late!"
Her face tightened with tension as she rushed toward the cupboard.
Dressed in a hurry and breathless, Eden rushed down the stairs.
Her mother looked up at her calmly. Time had been kind to her; her smooth skin carried barely a trace of age, and though she was in her forties, she could easily pass for someone in her twenties. Sharp beautiful features gave her face a composed elegance, the kind shaped by years of confidence and self-assurance. There was something distinctly professional about the way she held herself, poised and unshaken. "What was that" she asked evenly. "You said I didn't wake you up".
Eden stopped at the bottom of the stairs and gave her an obvious look. "Yes," she replied sharply.
Her mother sighed. "Because you look horrible when someone breaks your sleep."
Her father looked up at the table, his movements calm and unhurried. He was a sharp, handsome man, his features defined yet softened by a gentle expression that made him instantly reassuring. There was a quiet masculinity the way he carried himself, steady, composed and warm without trying to be. A faint smile touched his lips as his eyes lifted to meet hers. "It's your graduation ceremony today, right!".
Eden smiled and nodded. "Yes. The last day of university." She paused, then added, "But I'm lucky. My friends applied to the same company I did—so at least they'll be with me."
"That's good," her father said warmly.
Eden grabbed a slice of bread and took a quick bite. "So," she asked while chewing, "what did you guys decide, huh?"
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
"About the celebration," Eden said. "We were going camping this weekend to celebrate, weren't we?"
Her father smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. We'll handle it. Leave it to us."
"Alright," Eden said softly while finishing the slice of bread then hung her bag on the shoulders and continued "let's make this night mysterious one."
She added fun to her smile and walked toward the door.
"Stop!" Her father suddenly called out. "Let me drop you."
Eden turned back and shook her head. "No, it's okay. Fei will be picking me up today."
The moment Eden left the house; Mrs. Hallows stormed toward her husband.
"Did you invite them?" She snapped.
Mr. Hallows stiffened, his face losing all color. He whispered under his breath, "Oh no…"
He cleared his throat nervously. "No, not yet," he said carefully. "But don't pester me. I'll inform them in time—so you don't have to worry."
Mrs. Hallows stared at him for a long second.
Then she gave a slow, sarcastic smile. "Right. So, your business is more important than your daughter now?"
Mr. Hallows opened his mouth to speak—but she didn't stop.
"I've been the only one pleading for three days," she continued, crossing her arms. "Three. Whole. Days. And you?" She tilted her head. "Busy saving the world with meetings?"
"Meetings are important—" he tried.
"Oh, absolutely," she cut it sweetly. "Because obviously, deadlines are scarier than an angry daughter."
Mr. Hallows sighed. "You exaggerate."
She gasped dramatically. "Wow. Not only careless—now I'm dramatic too."
With that, she spun on her heel and briskly marched into the living room.
The sound of her footsteps faded… but the tension didn't.
Mr. Hallows stood there alone for a moment.
He let out a slow breath, rubbed his face with both hands, and muttered helplessly to himself, "I'm definitely sleeping on the couch tonight…"
He glanced toward the living room once more… then quietly picked up his phone.
(University Grounds)
The tall gates of New York Medical University buzzed with noise, laughter, and hurried footsteps.
Eden stepped out of the car and slung her bag over her shoulder. Students moved past her in groups, talking excitedly about graduation, plans, and the future.
"Late again," Fei teased from the driver's seat. She shot Eden with a playful sideway glance; her sharp features lighting up with a crooked smile. There was something endearingly clumsy about her, slightly rounded cheeks, expressive eyes that always seemed on the verge of laughter, and awkward little shrugs as she tightened her a grip on the steering wheel. Stray strands of hair slipped loose around her face, only adding to her cut, unpolished charm.
Eden smiled faintly. "Only by destiny," she replied. "If fate wanted me on time, it would've fixed my alarm clock."
Fei laughed. "Blame destiny for everything. Classic."
She adjusted her bag and walked inside.
Eden had just stepped into the university yard when a football suddenly flew and struck Fei on the side of her head.
"Hey!" Eden snapped. "Who's this lowlife bastard?"
They turned—and there he was.
The same Clemson who had been annoying them for years, standing with his group of useless shadows.
He smirked lazily. "Oh, sorry," he said. "My hand slipped. You know… whenever I try just a little, it turns into too much force."
From behind him, one of his friends laughed. "By the way, where's that book thief? Isn't he graduating today?"
Clemson chuckled. "That wreck? He must be hiding somewhere between his precious books."
The group burst into laughter.
Eden listened to everything in complete silence.
Beside her, Fei rolled her eyes.
Clemson tilted his head toward Eden. "Oh? Did that temper you?"
Eden's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "No. Not at all."
She calmly slid her arm around Fei's shoulder. "Come on," she said casually. "Let's go."
She turned as if she were truly about to leave—
Then in one smooth, lightning-fast move, she spun back and drove a brutal punch straight into the bully's face.
He didn't completely crash to the ground. But was nearly to
The entire yard froze.
Students stared at the embarrassed bully… then at Eden.
She flexed her fingers once, slowly, and looked down at him with calm, unforgiving eyes.
"Oh. Sorry," she said lightly. "My hand slipped. You know… when I slip just a little—it usually turns into a lot."
"You—" Clemson snarled and stepped toward Eden.
"What the heck is going on here?!"
A professor rushed into the yard, eyes blazing as he took in the scene.
"Oh. Right," he said coldly. "It's you again."
"March to the office. Now."
While the professor dragged the bully away, still scolding him, Eden quietly slipped her arm through Fei's and turned toward the entrance.
They walked inside without looking back.
Clemson walked into Principal Shin's office with his head held high.
Behind him, the professor followed, still angry and tensed.
The principal barely glanced at the professor.
Instead, he rushed towards the crimson.
"You get going." Principal Shin is looking at crimson with guilt eyes and said: "I'll handle it"
Clemson glared at professor and walked out his red bloody eyes are telling what's going to happen
The whole room is silent.
Shin sharply turned his face to the professor.
"Are you out of your mind?!" He shouted. "Do you have any idea who his father is?" "How am I supposed to face him now?"
The professor stood straight. Calm. Unshaken.
"Yes." He replied firmly. "I understand sir but the student he was bothering is not an ordinary student."
Shin let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"Then let them deal with their own shit." He snapped.
"Your job is to teach students not to interfere in their personal business. It would for you to put that into your head as soon as possible."
The professor said nothing. But his eyes told a different story.
Executive Meeting Room
(Executive Meeting Room)
The executive meeting room was a space of quiet authority, lit by golden chandeliers that reflected polished surfaces. Men with tailored suits carrying their elegance.
On the first seat sitting Mr. hallows his face remained a poker face, calm and composed. His sharp, well- groomed features exuded the elegance of a man who had mastered control over every aspect of his life with pristine, tailored clothing and an aura of authority he was a man who commanded respect without uttering a word.
The proud gleam in his eyes spoke volumes of a proud father watching his daughter's triumph. The confidence in his gaze wasn't just for showing it was a silence statement of the success he had nurtured in her. A success that was now taking shape Infront of everyone, his eyes, with their piercing focus, seamed to convey an unspoken message to everyone in the room. "She will shine brighter than anyone else."
People respected him, some admired him, but there was only always a silent divide for te same amount of people who stood by him. There was an equal number of enemies lurking in the shadows. Still, Mr. Hallows was unfazed. the confidence in his expression spoke of the years of half earned victories and silence battles fought in boardrooms, in life, and in quiet support of his daughter's growing legacy.
As he sat there, it wasn't his importing figure that captured attention; it was the silence power he exudes, making everyone around him keenly aware of shining destiny of his daughter, even without him uttering a word.
Right at the seat in front sat Mr. James, founder of the Legacy Explorers Consortium—a man whose every sin was painted over with money. Thick, expensive layers of wealth masked the decay beneath. A man who used people purely for his own gain, draining them of value, and when they were no longer useful, throwing them away like discarded tissue. A man whose hands, despite their polished appearance, were stained with the blood of thousands of innocent people. A man so deeply unloyal that not even God could claim his faith.
His posture was confident, almost arrogant, yet there was something restless beneath it—a subtle tapping of his fingers; a jaw clenched just a fraction too tight. His eyes lifted slowly, deliberately, locking onto Mr. Hallows across the table. The eye contact lingered longer than etiquette allowed. It was not a greeting. It was a challenge.
Mr. James had always made Mr. Hallows his target.
But Mr. Hallows was not easy to catch.
He was a bigger fish in the lake, one that could never truly become someone else's prey. A man who did not swim blindly, who sensed danger long before it surfaced. He sat unmoved, his expression unreadable, his sharp eyes meeting Mr. James's gaze without flinching. The silence between them grew heavy, suffocating, as if the room itself had learned to hold its breath.
Mr. Hallows was aware of every single sin Mr. James had committed—every deal sealed in blood; every life erased with a signature, every secret buried beneath wealth and influence. That knowledge sat behind his calm exterior, cold and precise, giving his stillness a terrifying weight. His silence was not weakness; it was restraint.
Mr. James felt it.
Behind his practiced smile, something shifted—unease, irritation, perhaps even fear. Because no matter how powerful he was, he knew one truth he could never escape:
Mr. Hallows saw him clearly.
And that was why Mr. James was not just an enemy—but one of the most dangerous ones Mr. Hallows had ever allowed to sit directly in front of him.
Mr. James had always made Mr. Hallows his target.
But Mr. Hallows was not easy to catch.
He was a bigger fish in the lake, one that could never truly become someone else's prey. A man who did not swim blindly, who sensed danger long before it surfaced. He sat unmoved, his expression unreadable, his sharp eyes meeting Mr. James's gaze without flinching. The silence between them grew heavy, suffocating, as if the room itself had learned to hold its breath.
Mr. Hallows was aware of every single sin Mr. James had committed—every deal sealed in blood; every life erased with a signature, every secret buried beneath wealth and influence. That knowledge sat behind his calm exterior, cold and precise, giving his stillness a terrifying weight. His silence was not weakness; it was restraint.
Mr. James felt it.
Behind his practiced smile, something shifted—unease, irritation, perhaps even fear. Because no matter how powerful he was, he knew one truth he could never escape:
Mr. Hallows saw him clearly.
And that was why Mr. James was not just an enemy—but one of the most dangerous ones Mr. Hallows had ever allowed to sit directly in front of him.
Mr. James leaned forward, resting his elbows lightly on the polished table. His voice carried practiced warmth as he spoke, smooth, and measured.
"It's truly an honor," he said, "to see our children stepping toward their professional lives."
As his words settled, his eyes moved deliberately from face to face around the table—not seeking agreement, but admiration. There was a quiet hunger in his gaze, a need to be acknowledged, to be seen as the proud patriarch rather than the man he truly was.
"You're right," Mr. Robinson replied calmly.
Mr. Robinson was one of the few men in the room who had stood beside Mr. Hallows through struggle after struggle, a man whose contributions had played a significant role in Mr. Hallows's success. Where Mr. James had become one of Hallows's enemies over time, Mr. Robinson had remained an ally—both in business and in family. He was, after all, the father of Eden's friend, Fei, and the bond between the Robinsons and the Hallows went far beyond contracts and boardrooms. They were family in every way that truly mattered.
Mr. Robinson shifted slightly in his seat; his tone still polite—but sharpened just enough to cut.
"But perhaps you should look a little closer at your son," he continued. "I don't believe he's quite ready to move forward in the professional world with behavior that remains… this childish."
A faint murmur rippled through the room.
"He still has a great deal to learn about etiquette," Mr. Robinson added. His eyes are steady now, unwavering. "Especially when it comes to how one behaves with women. As long as I've known him, he's done nothing but cause trouble for my daughter—time and time again."
The silence thickened.
"And if you choose not to correct that," Mr. Robinson said evenly, "then I'm certain life will eventually place a woman in his path who will teach him a lesson far more unforgettable than any lecture."
Mr. James's lips curved upward into a smile—but it never reached his eyes. It was polished, controlled, and unmistakably fake.
"No, don't worry," he replied smoothly. "He will learn. He simply needs time."
He leaned back slightly, clasping his hands together.
"Until now, he was just a student," Mr. James continued. "That was his era of joy. I didn't interfere—I allowed him to do it as he was pleased. Youth need freedom, after all."
His gaze flickered briefly, calculating.
"But rest assured," he concluded, his smile tightening just a fraction, "he will learn. In time."
Somehow," Mr. Hallows said calmly, his voice carrying a deliberate edge, "my daughter seems to have been taught far too well."
His gaze stayed fixed on Mr. James as he continued, unhurried and sharp.
"She's a good student—disciplined, observant. She even took it upon herself to teach others how to behave with women."
A brief pause followed, heavy with implication.
"And every time your son crossed that line," Mr. Hallows added, "every time he thought persistence could be mistaken for entitlement, Eden made sure he was taught a lesson."
His lips curved faintly—not a smile, but something colder.
"Your son understands only one language," he went on. "So, my daughter had no choice but to speak to him in terms he could comprehend. I hope you didn't mind."
Mr. James paused before replying, carefully arranging his expression.
"No, it's fine, Mr. Hallows. I understand. He has made… a few childish mistakes. Eden did well—for your sake as well. He will learn soon."
He leaned forward slightly, forcing reassurance into his tone.
"After all, this is their growing age—the beginning of their professional lives. I'll make sure he doesn't repeat such behavior. It's the age where children mature."
A faint, tainted smile appeared on Mr. Hallows's face.
"And in this growing age," he asked quietly, "you're allowing him to do whatever he wants?"
He glanced around the room, letting the silence expose Mr. James, before returning his gaze to him.
"James," he said evenly, "until now, I allowed my daughter to deal with your son herself. Consider that generosity."
His voice dropped, controlled, and final.
"But from this moment on, if anyone attempts to bother my Eden again, there will be no such leniency."
Mr. Hallows leaned back, composed.
"And you already know," he finished coldly, "when I involve myself personally… I don't teach lessons. I end matters."
Mr. James let out a hollow laugh, exaggerated and loud.
"Ah—ha, ha!"
Then, with a practiced ease, he tilted his head toward Mr. Hallows. "Why bring children into our business, Mr. Hallows?"
For a brief moment, his smile slipped—just enough to reveal impatience beneath the charm. "Let me make this clear," he continued smoothly. "There will be no disturbance from my son from now on. You have my word."
He paused, as if weighing his next move. Then another smile appeared—fake, polished, carefully rehearsed. His eyes flickered with something calculating before he spoke again.
"In fact…" he said lightly, "I want you to hire my son in your BioLabs—for just one week. Let him understand what it feels like to be a rookie."
Mr. Hallows remained serious, his expression unreadable. Silence stretched across the table before he finally spoke.
"Sure. Why not?"
He leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but edged with warning. "But let me clear one thing first. My daughter will be the one supervising him. She will be his boss. So you'll have to make sure your son has no issue with that."
For a fraction of a second, something hardened in Mr. James's eyes. Then, as always, he masked it with another smile—false, effortless.
"No problem," he replied. "It'll be fun."
Crystal glasses were lifted. Wine shimmered beneath the golden chandeliers as the men raised their drinks and cheered—
a celebration on the surface,
while beneath it, silent wars were already being planned.
Northside River Camping Forest
Night had settled fully now, slow and deliberate, as if it had been waiting for the right moment to arrive. The forest no longer felt like a place meant for people. Trees stood taller, darker; their outlines blurred under the moonlight, as though they were watching rather than standing.
The air carried a quiet chill—not cold enough to hurt, just enough to make skin aware of itself. Somewhere far away, water moved gently, unseen; its sound low and rhythmic, like a heartbeat buried beneath the earth.
Above, the sky was clear. Stars scattered unevenly, some sharp, some faint, all distant. The moon hung pale and distant, its light touching everything without warming it.
This was not a frightening night.
It was a listening one.
Silence stretched between sounds, heavier than noise ever could be. Time felt slower here—minutes slipping unnoticed, seconds blending. The kind of night where thoughts wandered freely, and memories surfaced without being invited.
For Eden, the night felt different in a way she couldn't name.
Eden stood at the edge of the river, still quiet.
The water flowed calmly before her, carrying reflections of moonlight across its surface. Everything about the moment felt comforting—the steady movement of the river, the cool air, the distant sounds of nature settling into the night. A gentle wind passed through, lifting her hair with just enough force to make her aware of it. The temperature of the water cooled her skin, not enough to make her shiver, only enough to relax her completely.
She closed her eyes for a second, breathing it all in.
"Hey!"
The sudden voice made her turn.
Fei came into view, walking quickly toward her; arms slightly raised in mock frustration. She stopped beside Eden, placing her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes dramatically.
"I've been looking for you everywhere," Fei said, exhaling as if she'd just finished a long search. Her tone softened as she glanced at the river and then back at Eden. "Why are you standing here all alone, huh?"
Before Eden could answer, Fei's expression shifted—her lips curled into a mischievous grin; eyes lighting up with excitement.
"Anyway," she continued, leaning closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, "Nethemus is about to make this night a lot scarier."
She straightened, clapping her hands once. "Get ready for a horrific storybook tonight." Fei shuddered exaggeratedly, then laughed. "Come on, we're waiting for you."
She tilted her head, smiling expectantly, already turning back toward the caravans, confident Eden would follow.
Eden cast one last glance at the river before stepping away, unaware that the calm she was leaving behind would not return so easily.
Everyone sat inside the caravan, forming a rough circle on the floor. The space felt smaller than it had during the day, as if the night itself had pressed inward. Darkness wrapped around them from every side, thick and unyielding, broken only by a single torch placed in the center beside an old, worn book.
The flame flickered, throwing uneasy shadows across the walls and across their faces—stretching, twisting, making familiar expressions look unfamiliar.
Nethimus leaned forward into the light. His face shifted deliberately into something unsettling eyes slightly narrowed; lips curved into a soft, suspenseful smile that didn't quite feel friendly.
"So," he said slowly, his voice calm but heavy, "the story I'm going to tell you tonight… is not fiction."
A quiet tension settled in the caravan.
"It's based on true history."
He opened the book.
"Back in the times of ancient Egypt," Nethimus continued, "this world was not the same. Demons walked openly among humans. And they still exist."
He lifted his eyes, letting them move from one face to another.
"Because demons never die."
The torch crackled softly.
"But among all of them," he went on, "There was one who was different. Rare. The only demon gifted with a power no one truly understood."
He paused.
"His name was Aion—the one who devours age."
"Stop—stop," Fei interrupted, frowning. "You mean… he eats ages? What does that even mean?"
Nethimus's expression hardened.
"Ahh—Fei, don't interrupt."
Before anyone could react, he leaned forward and switched off the torch.
Darkness swallowed the caravan whole.
"Hey—why did you turn it off?" Eden's voice came quickly. "It's completely dark now."
Fei laughed, trying to sound playful. "Why, Eden? Are you scared?" She teased, making a silly face even though no one could see it.
"No," Eden replied, then hesitated "I'm not scared… I just can't see anything."
A beat of silence.
"Alright," Nethimus said evenly. "I'm turning it back on. No more disturbance."
The moment the torch flared back to life—
Eden and Fei screamed.
"What now?" Nethimus snapped.
Eden's hand lifted slowly, her finger trembling as she pointed behind him. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"W-who… who is that behind you?"
Nethimus turned.
He stared.
Then sighed.
He stood up, walked toward the shadow near the wall—and pulled down his own coat from the stand.
"Oh," he said dryly. "Looks like the demon paid us a visit."
He glanced back at them, unimpressed.
"Must've sensed we were talking about him," he mocked. "Got bored. Decided to scare us instead of terrorizing the world."
Fei groaned.
Nethimus shook his head, smirking. "And here I thought he'd be more productive."
Fei scoffed and shot him an annoyed look. "This is all your fault," she said. "Did you really have to hang your coat here?"
She opened her mouth.
"Nope," he cut her off. "Last warning. No more interruptions. Okay?"
The torchlight steadied again; shadows retreating slightly—
Nethimus walked back to his place, sat down, and opened the book again.
"Alright," he said calmly, though something sharp flickered in his eyes. "I think you're not taking this seriously."
He lifted the book slightly.
"So… be ready for the next page."
His expression shifted—slow, deliberate, unsettling. Then he turned the page.
"Aion," he read aloud, "is still alive somewhere."
A hush fell over the caravan.
"No one has ever found him," Nethimus continued, "because no one ever dared to look."
The torch crackled softly.
"History claims he was imprisoned," he said, "but no one knows where. Even the Egyptian shamans could never agree on it."
He looked up briefly.
"Most of them believed Aion could be unprisoned—anytime, anywhere."
Fei frowned.
"But before that," Nethimus went on, "he would first affect the people around the place where he is sealed."
He paused.
"Until now, no such case has ever been recorded."
His lips curved into something disturbing.
"But I'm sure he—"
pause.
"—will—"
another pause.
"—come—"
slow inhale.
"—back."
The final word landed heavy.
Fei suddenly grabbed the remote and switched on the main light.
Brightness flooded the caravan.
"Seriously?" she said flatly. "You call this horror?"
She rolled her eyes. "Such a waste of time. These are the boring stories you read all the time?"
She scoffed. "I thought you'd make our night enjoyable."
Nethimus stood up sharply.
"Yes," he snapped, irritation slipping through his calm. "And that was interesting."
He stepped forward. "You're still not believing it. Just imagine—what if something like that wakes up again after centuries?"
Fei sighed dramatically, her face full of disbelief.
"And don't you have questions?" she shot back. "Like—why hasn't he woken up yet?"
Nethimus didn't hesitate.
"That's the question no one can answer," he said. "He was sealed strictly."
Then, quieter:
"He's taking his time."
Fei shook her head. "No. You're wrong. That's because such demons don't exist. These are just myths."
Nethimus looked straight at her.
"They do exist," he said simply. "And you'll see."
Then his gaze shifted.
To Eden.
"Eden," he said, watching her carefully. "What do you think?"
She hesitated. "I… I'm not sure. I mean—"
Before she could finish, Fei groaned. "Oh God. Where am I stuck?" she muttered, already walking out toward her caravan.
Silence lingered.
Eden stood up slowly.
"Okay," she said softly. "I should get going too."
She turned to Nethimus. "I do believe such demons could exist," she admitted. "But I don't think he can ever come back."
She paused.
"If he could," she added quietly, "it would've happened long ago."
With that, Eden stepped outside into the night—
leaving the caravan behind,
and a story far from finished.
Eden stepped into her parents' caravan, and the door slid shut automatically behind her with a soft mechanical hum, sealing the night outside.
The interior lights adjusted on their own—dim, warm, minimal. Touch panels along the walls glowed faintly, responding to her presence. Everything felt controlled, quiet, efficient.
Too quiet.
She walked toward her bed as the floor lights guided her steps, then deactivated once she stopped. With a small gesture, she lay down on the bed and turned off the lamp. She lay flat on her back, not turning to either side.
Eden took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
As sleep began to pull her under, her heartbeat slowed—slower than normal. Gradually, she lost control of every part of her body. A crushing weight pressed down on her chest, as if someone were sitting there, heavy and unmoving.
Suddenly, something yanked her hand upward.
She couldn't move—only her eyes.
When she opened them, a blinding black hand was gripping her arm.
Fear surged through her. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Her body was completely paralyzed. Panic clawed at her chest as she stared at that terrifying hand. Unable to bear the sight of what might come next, she squeezed her eyes shut.
The moment she did—
She found herself standing at the edge of a towering rock, her body hanging over a vast abyss. Her feet kicked helplessly in the air as gravity dragged her downward. One hand slipped—
But the other was caught just in time.
Fingers locked around her wrist, holding her suspended between life and death.
They were the same blinding black hands.
She couldn't see them clearly.
When she looked down, she saw a deep blue sea far below—so vast and endless that she knew, without doubt, if she fell into it, she would not survive.
The moment she looked back up—
The hands were gone.
She fell.
Her body slammed into the water. The impact stole the breath from her lungs as icy cold flooded in. She struggled instinctively, trying to breathe—but water rushed in instead. With every desperate gasp, bubbles escaped her mouth, floating upward like fragile ghosts.
Her chest burned.
The world blurred.
Sounds faded into a distant hush as her movements slowed, strength draining from her limbs. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision.
One final stream of bubbles escaped her lips.
Her eyes closed.
Her body went limp, surrendering to the water as it pulled her deeper into silence.
Then—
Suddenly, she snapped back.
Eden was lying on her bed—the same place where everything had begun.
She gasped sharply and bolted upright, heart racing.
"What… was that?"