Nakarin's life had been ordinary. He was an only child born into a middle-class family. From a young age, he had dreamed of becoming a judge. Part of it was the desire for stability. But more importantly, if he could uphold justice, punish the guilty and help those in need, he believed that would be the greatest fulfillment of all.
Life, however, rarely followed a smooth path.
He failed to gain admission to a prestigious university and instead enrolled in a private one. He failed the bar exam once before finally passing on his second attempt.
After years of relentless study, he began working as a lawyer to accumulate the experience that would one day lead him to his true ambition of becoming a judge. He joined a small law firm, modest and easily overlooked.
…Being a lawyer was far from easy.
He encountered countless cases, defending clients both innocent and guilty. Working so closely with the courts—the place where human fates were decided—slowly wore down his spirit.
Through the cases he handled, he witnessed the rot and decay festering within society. Disgust and exhaustion crept into his heart. At times, he would think back to his childhood self and wonder why he had ever dreamed of immersing himself in such career.
With each passing day, his parents' health declined. His hope of becoming a judge grew dimmer.
But still, he made the decision to resign from his job and devoted himself entirely to studying for the judicial examinations. It was no easy feat; the pass rate was extremely low, and his family's finances were far from secure.
It was no different from gambling, but he chose to press on.
His hope was no more than a flickering candle, trembling on the verge of being extinguished.
And yet, sometimes a quiet thought surfaced in his mind—
Perhaps… giving up might be another kind of freedom.
"Sigh…"
Nakarin's breath drifted into the darkness of a Saturday night. He was walking home along a deserted road after attending his farewell party, organized by the firm following his resignation. Dim streetlights cast weak halos; pale glow reflected in his tired eyes.
He did not know whether he had made the right choice.
…But this might be his last chance.
Lost in thought, he let his gaze drift forward—and caught sight of something. A shadowy figure stood ahead.
When the dim light from the streetlamp struck that figure, it revealed a large body draped in a long black coat, moving slowly toward him.
Nakarin wasn't sure whether exhaustion was playing tricks on his eyes or the alcohol still lingered in his veins. But something about the figure felt… wrong. The presence beneath the black coat did not feel human.
He meant to lower his head and walk past without looking. Yet somehow, before he knew it, he found himself standing directly in front of the figure.
His eyes remained fixed on the ground at its feet. His heart pounded violently, like someone on the verge of overdose. The sound grew louder, reverberating inside his skull. His thoughts were scattered. His consciousness began to dissolve, melting away like ice in the middle of summer.
His eyes widened, and his gaze lifted inch by inch to meet the figure's face.
And then— He saw them…
"!!"
The Red eyes.
Their red iris spiraled in endless layers, turning like an infinite vortex. They expanded before him, vast and consuming—like the swirling maw of the universe itself.
He felt himself being pulled inward, dragged toward a bottomless abyss.
The pounding in his ears morphed into the blare of an ancient siren—deafening, relentless. Warm blood streamed from his ears. His body flailed, untethered from gravity, unable to feel the ground beneath him.
Tears streamed down his eyes, mingling with the metallic scent of blood in the air.
And then—
He heard something.
A whisper.
It rose from the deepest part of hell, a voice speaking in a language beyond his understanding.
"پرتگاه... सर्वोच्च बा...jɔjmɛnt...."
His vision dimmed.
Darkness closed in.
Until nothing remained but silence.
Nakarin
14.08.15
Unknown