A loud explosion echoed across the plains, waking me from my sleep on the train. The sound startled me. I looked out the window, taking in the view of Rostov City, surrounded by beautiful hills—soothing to my eyes. A perfect place to spend the rest of my life after all the suffering I had endured.
I stared outside, searching for the source of the explosion, but I found nothing. Where did that sound come from? Is there a war happening here? That's impossible, right?
Through the window, I could see a monument of one of the nation's most important figures, Huijches Wein. He was a war commander from Rostov who defeated ten thousand invading troops with only a hundred soldiers. But what made him truly remarkable was his courage—leading the battle while suffering from a severe lung disease. A strong figure—one who never gave up, even knowing he could die at any moment.
I admired him greatly. He became my source of motivation when I was diagnosed with the same disease at the age of twelve. Since then, I could no longer attend school or go outside. My body was weak, and the illness that continued to consume me caused immense suffering. But Huijches' story kept me going.
Until the night of disaster arrived.
When I was fifteen, my parents died in an accident. Since then, I lived alone with my older sister.
However, the nightmare didn't end there.
Our savings dwindled while I had to keep taking expensive medications. My sister worked tirelessly to earn money. Over time, my health improved. Now, at seventeen, I could finally walk freely outside. I decided to find a job to ease my sister's burden.
But before I could do that, the nightmare returned.
My sister left to join our parents. She died from exhaustion due to overworking. I felt immensely guilty that she had to go through such hardship because of my helplessness.
From that moment on, my perspective on life darkened. I lost the motivation to keep going. The family I loved was gone. I drifted in emptiness. But remembering how they fought so hard for me to survive, I forced myself to move forward.
I started working after that—at a pastry shop. But after five months on the job, I collapsed while delivering an order. I was immediately rushed to the hospital. When I regained consciousness, a doctor was sitting beside me.
"Your illness has worsened," he said softly.
"Your body hasn't fully recovered, yet you keep pushing yourself to work. Now, your condition has reached an irreversible stage."
I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the turmoil in my chest. His words were painful, but I had to accept them.
"How much time do I have left?" I asked.
The doctor sighed before answering, "One or two months."
The world seemed to collapse before me. I wanted to cry, but my tears refused to fall. I could only sit in silence, allowing the bitter reality to sink in.
And now, here I am. With the money I had saved from working—and the life insurance from my sister's death, which I never wanted to use—I traveled to another region to spend the remainder of my days.
Just recalling everything was exhausting. Alright, isn't it better to just focus on my schedule and the supplies I need to buy?
The train entered a tunnel, plunging the entire carriage into darkness. As I was jotting down my schedule and shopping list, suddenly, a loud scream rang out, followed by another.
Not long after, silence.
The cries and voices of the people around me had vanished.
I wondered to myself, "What is actually happening?"
But what confused me the most was—why hasn't the darkness lifted? Just how long is this tunnel?
I waited and waited, but everything remained pitch black. Panic began to rise within me. I reached for my lighter in my pocket, but at that moment, my mind went blank. My body froze.
I was utterly shocked to realize that my body was covered in blood.
Fresh blood dripped from my head down to my feet. Panicked, I ran to seek help from the other passengers. But before I could, I stumbled. I couldn't move.
I found myself falling into a body of water.
My panic grew, and I quickly scrambled to my feet, running as a wave of fear surged through my mind. "What is happening?"
The endless darkness.
The blood soaking my body.
The train car that had now turned into an ocean.
I ran, my breath ragged. My chest tightened. I fell again.
Suddenly, memories I didn't recognize surfaced in my mind.
Memories of a train colliding with mine head-on inside the tunnel.
I froze.
I couldn't believe what I had just remembered.
Am I dead? How did this happen? Even at the end of my life, I still meet misfortune. Where does all this bad luck come from?
I bit my lip until it bled. My fists clenched tightly. Anger and frustration consumed me. I hated this fate—until the very end. My rage slowly faded, replaced by emptiness.
Amidst the void, my past life flashed before me.
Though my life had been filled with relentless misfortune, there had been happiness in it too. One by one, the faces of my family appeared before me.
First, my father. Then my mother. And finally, my sister.
They looked at me with joyful expressions.
I felt at peace again.
But that peace didn't last long.
The darkness loomed once more, creeping toward me. In an instant, my family's images vanished.
The darkness slowly began to consume my consciousness.
Yet, in the midst of it, a melody echoed in my ears.
Suddenly, the darkness started to fade away.
The melody was played with what sounded like a flute, followed by the soft strumming of a zither and a gentle whistle.
It was a song that brought me peace.
Moments later, the currents in the water grew stronger. Waves surged, pulling my body deeper.
A whirlpool formed at the center, dragging me into it.
I couldn't move. I surrendered.
Inside the vortex, I kept getting pulled in—until a small glimmer of light appeared.
Now, I could see again. The light grew bigger and brighter.
I asked myself, "What is in there?"
The ocean currents suddenly became much stronger. I was dragged in even faster. The light drew closer, expanding.
I screamed.
And then—my consciousness faded.
---
The chirping of birds reached my ears, followed by the laughter of children. I slowly opened my eyes and saw a village surrounded by beautiful farmland.
I found myself leaning against a tree, a book resting on my lap. Just then, a woman's voice called out to me.
"Vall, where are you? Uncle Rushell is looking for you!"
Why is someone calling my name? Who is this woman? How does she know me?
I barely had time to think before the woman ran toward me and hugged me from behind.
"I found you, Vall! … Hehe."
Her voice sounded familiar, making me question everything.
I turned around to see her face.
My mind went blank the moment I saw her.
A woman with long black hair, sharp dark eyes, pale skin, and a mole on her neck.
There was no way I didn't recognize her.
My eyes widened in disbelief.
My sister—who should have been dead—was now alive, standing right before me.
Is this a dream?
She leaned closer and said, "Hey, what's wrong? Are you seeing a ghost?"
"N-no, it's just—"
"If there's nothing wrong, we should hurry up and go."
She grabbed my arm and pulled me along.
"Come on, Vall! If not, Uncle Rushell will scold you."
Without question, I followed her—overwhelmed with happiness and emotion.
Even if this was just a dream, I was truly happy.
But what puzzled me was—if this is a dream, why are my sister and I in this place? My family had always lived in the city and had never once set foot in a village like this.
So, why are we here?
What is really happening?