There was no time in that place.
If time truly existed there, it did not move as it should. Rinve could not tell whether he had been there for a single second… or for eternity.
His consciousness drifted.
He had no body he could move, yet he did not feel as though he had lost anything. There was no pain, no cold, no warmth. Only existencethin, light, and nearly weightless.
Am I… already dead?
The question surfaced again, this time without sound.
There was no echo, no answer. The space around him remained silent, as if the world itself refused to grant certainty.
Rinve tried to remember.
The bus.
The children.
The impact.
Fragments of memory emerged slowly, like shards of glass floating in water. He saw the terror on the children's faces again, felt the violent pull as his body was hurled forward.
And then darkness.
If this is death…
why does it feel like waiting?
He did not feel judged.
He did not feel summoned anywhere.
There was no heavenly light, no eternal darkness. Only a quiet emptiness, as if he had been placed between two unopened pages of a book.
That realization unsettled him.
"I… shouldn't exist anymore, right?"
Yet his thoughts still worked. His emotions remained intact.
He remembered his ordinary life.
No glory.
No great tragedy.
Just a series of small failures piling up until they became heavy. If the world measured people by their achievements, Rinve would never appear on anyone's list.
It's funny…
The thought came without bitterness.
I never felt important while I was alive. And now, I'm not even allowed to leave.
Somewhere far away, or perhaps deep within himself he felt something.
Not a sound.
Not light.
But a subtle vibration.
Like a wave brushing against his awareness before disappearing. Rinve didn't know what it was, but his instincts told him it was not an illusion.
Something was moving.
The space around him began to change.
It did not grow brighter, nor darker. It simply felt… narrower. As though boundaries that had never existed were now taking shape.
"What's happening…?"
His consciousness grew heavy. His thoughts no longer flowed freely. He could still think, but each thought required effort.
He felt himself being pulled.
Not forcefully
but with certainty.
Where am I being taken?
There was no answer.
Instead, another set of memories surface dones that were not his.
Or perhaps… not yet.
Vague images of vast land, a different sky, and cleaner air. No city. No asphalt. No towering buildings. It was unfamiliar, yet not hostile.
Rinve wanted to resist.
Or at least ask a question.
But his awareness continued to weaken.
"I don't understand… what any of this means."
His thoughts began to fracture.
I died saving others.
Is that enough?
He did not regret it. Strangely, he truly didn't. Yet one feeling slipped quietly between his calm curiosity.
If this isn't the end…
then the beginning of what?
In a place he could not see, something was happening.
Not a ritual.
Not divine intervention.
But an adjustment.
Like a massive wheel shifting slightly off its axis, the laws of the world creaked softly. They neither resisted nor welcomed the change only struggled to preserve balance.
A decision was made without sound.
And Rinve stood at its center.
The pressure intensified.
He felt as though he were inside something narrow and warm. The vast emptiness that once surrounded him collapsed inward. His consciousness was compressed, forced to adapt to a form he did not yet understand.
"What… is this?"
He tried to move his hands but there were no hands. Tried to open his eyes but there were no eyes. His body felt… incomplete.
Then voices emerged.
Fragmented.
Distant.
Yet real.
"…easy…"
"…breathing…"
"…this child…"
Human voices.
A woman's.
They carried a gentle tremor. Rinve didn't know why, but the sound made his chest or something that would become his chest grow warm.
A mother's voice?
He wasn't sure. But the feeling was too familiar to ignore.
His consciousness sank further. His thoughts faded like ink dissolving in water.
He tried to hold on.
Don't disappear…
Don't forget…
But something else took over.
Instinct.
Impulse.
Cold air rushed in for the first time.
His lungs expanded.
And the world forced him to breathe.
A cry broke through the room.
Small. Fragile. Yet full of life.
Rinve did not realize the sound came from him.
He only knew that his consciousness suddenly felt incredibly heavy. Incredibly confined. Incredibly… real.
Blinding light pierced his blurred vision. Colors he had never known flashed by. Voices overlapped, making his head spin.
"A-am I…?"
He tried to speak, but only crying came out.
The cry of a newborn.
Yet beneath that cry
his consciousness still remained.
Not whole.
Not as clear as before.
But enough to realize one thing that silenced him within his own mind.
I'm… alive again.
Warm arms wrapped around him.
The touch was gentle, yet overflowing with emotion. Rinve felt a heartbeat that was not his own—fast and unsteady. Warm liquid dripped onto his skin.
Someone was crying.
"He… he's okay…"
The voice trembled.
Rinve couldn't fully understand the words. But the emotion behind them reached him clearly relief mixed with overwhelming emotion.
He wanted to say something.
That he was fine.
That he was okay.
But this body could not yet respond.
Outside that small room, far beyond the quiet village, the mechanisms of the world resumed their rotation.
There was no warning.
No announcement.
Only a single conclusion recorded in silence.
[New Entity Born]
[Consciousness: Abnormal]
[Potential: Sealed]
Not a punishment.
Nor protection.
But postponement.
Rinve knew nothing of this.
He only felt an overwhelming drowsiness pulling him into a gentler darkness. His thoughts weakened, and memories of his former life drifted away.
Before everything vanished completely, one last thought surfaced weak, yet sincere.
If this is my second life…
I want to live it properly.
And for the first time since awakening in that empty space
Rinve fell asleep.
Yet Rinve's sleep was not entirely dreamless.
Behind eyelids that were not yet fully formed, his consciousness floated on a thin boundary. Not fully awake, yet not completely submerged like standing before an unopened door.
There, he felt that space again.
A colorless space.
A formless space.
But this time, it was not empty.
There was a presence.
Not a figure.
Not a voice.
Only pressure subtle, vibrating like something observing him from afar. It did not approach, nor retreat. It merely confirmed that he truly existed.
Am I… still there?
The question faded unfinished.
His awareness was too weak to think further. Yet one feeling remained clear the sense that his existence had not been fully accepted.
Or perhaps, not yet permitted.
Far from the small village, beyond the reach of humans and ordinary living beings, the laws of the world moved in ways never noticed by those who lived within them.
There was no hourglass.
No marker of time.
Only records quietly updating.
Anomaly: Stable (Temporary)
Intervention: Not Recommended
Observation: Ongoing
The decision carried no emotion.
No pity.
No malice.
The world simply did what it had always done protected itself.
Back in the village.
Night fell slowly. The wind drifted gently across fields and wooden rooftops. No one knew that something different had been born that day.
To them, it was merely the birth of a child.
The crying had faded. The small house was filled with warm silence. Levane sat back, holding the baby carefully, as though even the slightest pressure might cause him to disappear.
"He's… strangely calm," she whispered.
Galor stood beside her, staring at the child for a long time. He didn't know why, but his chest felt heavy not with worry, but with something he couldn't explain.
"Calm is good," he replied softly.
"Strong children are often like that."
Yet the words lacked conviction.
Because deep down, Galor knew
This child wasn't merely calm.
He was quiet, as if listening to something no one else could hear.
In his mother's arms, Rinve slept.
His breathing was small and steady. His innocent face showed no trace of the weight of two lives slowly sinking within him.
Yet in the deepest corner of his awareness, a faint promise took shape not to the world, nor to fate.
But to himgrow.
I don't know why I was given another life.
But if I'm given grow.
I will use it.
And with no witnesses
That night passed,
The village remained silent,
And the world… continued onward.
As if nothing had changed.
He does not yet understand this world.
Nor does the world understand him.
And within that mutual ignorance
A story that should never have existed
slowly begins to grow.