Looking at the mirror, Eroan fixes his collar and smirks. “Yeahhh… well, everything’s perfect.”

  The reflection looks back at him, composed yet faintly hollow like he’s preparing for something more than an evening out. He opens the first box in his wardrobe where his watches rest, aligned like soldiers on parade. His eyes soften. “Huhh… that’s all I have,” he whispers, almost as if the watches hold pieces of his time, his memories. After a pause, he chooses one simple, silver, calm and straps it on.

  He drags his feet down the stairs, the air around him carrying that quiet, late-afternoon chill. Sitting on the first stair, he ties his shoes, the faint squeak of laces echoing in the stillness. “I guess it’ll take her half an hour to get ready,” he says with a small laugh that fades too quickly.

  Far from here though not seven seas away, sunlight spills through a half-open window, dust particles floating like tiny stars. There sits a girl wrapped in beauty, her hair shimmering brighter than the sun itself. Shina runs her fingers gently through it while the breeze dances around her. Her gaze drifts outside, searching for something unseen.

  Her maid, watching from behind, tilts her head with concern. Wrinkling her brows, she asks softly, “What happened?”

  Shina blinks, lost for words at first, then smiles faintly, eyes still fixed beyond the window. “I think… someone called me out.”

  “Who do you think called out to you?” the maid asks, puzzled.

  Shina’s lips part, but no words follow. Her fingers brush against the edge of the window frame as she whispers, “Someone close.” The maid stares, still confused, before shaking her head in silent amusement.

  Meanwhile, a clock ticks at Eroan’s house *4:59 p.m.* The sound cuts the silence like a final warning.

  He grabs his keys, locks the door, and steps outside. The world is tinted orange with the dying sun. On the street, a black cat crosses his path and climbs onto a wall, tail flicking with eerie grace.

  Eroan crouches, smiling softly. “Hey, little one…” He reaches out his hand. The cat jumps — right into the road.

  A truck roars toward it, engine screaming, the driver shouting something lost in the noise.

  Instinct takes over. Eroan dives forward, his shoes scraping the asphalt, grabs the cat mid-air, and pushes it to safety. The next instant, impact. The world turns into blinding noise and white light.

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  The truck screeches to a stop. The driver jumps down, panic in his steps. Eroan lies still, blood painting the pavement. The driver’s breathing quickens, hands trembling. He looks around and empty street, no witnesses. Fear grips his chest like a hand of ice.

  Then that fear changes. His eyes narrow. His breath steadies. *Maybe no one will know.* He bends down, ready to lift the body.

  But the cat stands before him, silent. Its eyes - black, then shimmering silver. The air thickens. His heart skips a beat as something pulls him inward, deeper, beyond sense and sight.

  When he opens his eyes, he’s somewhere else.

  Darkness. Thick, suffocating. The air smells of blood and iron. Confused, as one should be ; he shouts " Hey, is there anyone? Can you hear me out, where am even I!!" Too dark for him to see, all he can do is just feel himself and move forward. Then he moves forward by waving hands to pave a way.

  He takes one step, something crunches beneath his feet. He looks down. It's bones shattered to pieces. Who's - It is his , who else? With no idea he continues to move forward but at one moment he hears a scream a menacing one and not just one but a lot coming to his ears a at once. Hearing that, he stops for a sec.

  After it has lost its voice, he tries to move forward again the same way as before. However, something's messed up while waving he couldn't feel the presence in his left hand. In disbelief he touches his hand with another only to find that there's nothing left. The man screams with all his might. He takes a step but trips on the ground and something beneath his knee reeking of blood and senses like flesh. He picks it up and sensed it had fingers what shouldn't be found reveals, it was his arm.

  A scream escapes him, but it makes no sound. His body shakes uncontrollably as despair swallows him whole. “Hhh

  - help!” he tries to shout, but his mouth won’t open. He touches his lips — sealed shut.

  He staggers forward, dragging himself through the dark. Screams echoing from unseen mouths. His remaining hand dissolves into ash. Yet the only thing he could is shed tears to this miserable sight and hear the apocalypse roaming all around him .His knees snap inward, bones cracking like twigs. Every breath is in agony. Every second stretches into an eternity.

  Then — light.

  But not white. Red. Endless red.

  Blood drips from above like rain. The ground breathes. And there, before him stands countless versions of himself. All suffering. All dying in grotesque, impossible ways. The horror repeats without end. His mind breaks; his sanity shatters like glass as he has to live through each of them. What terrifies him is the fact that - every single time feels the like the first experience.

  From far away, through the endless crimson and blood flow sea, he sees one version of himself nailed to a cross. That one, only that one is smiling. Not in peace, but in surrender as he had accepted what was written in his fate.

  He blinks, and the nightmare dissolves.

  The cat is still looking at him quietly with it's weirdly hypnotic eyes. The street is quiet. Only four minutes have passed. Eroan still lies where he fell, motionless. The driver’s face twists: confusion, terror, guilt all emotions showing up on his face as clear as a day. At that moment he had completely lost his sanity. Sweating all over his body he takes a step back, trembling, then turns away, abandoning the truck, the body, everything.

  He walks, but the ground beneath his feet vanishes. Invisible steps rise before him, climbing toward the sky as if there was a stairway made just for him . His body lifts, one step, then another, fading into the air. His final breath escapes like a whisper.

  In that same crimson void, he returns hanging from the cross he saw before. Arms spread, eyes empty, lips curved into a faint smile.

  And so ends the slumber of pain with nothing but pain. Because, the way to achieve true peace can't be reached without pain and suffering. Even, when he's dead he might find his way out of peace in one life or another.