Oh My God !
The ache inside me is no longer silent.
My whole body is aching.
He woke up slowly, still feeling the pain from yesterday. After taking a cold shower and drinking a cup of coffee, he rushed to the hospital. As soon as he arrived, he said, "I've been really sick since yesterday."
The doctor looked at him and said, "Come back tomorrow. Today is a holiday."
Always against us, the poor," he muttered to the doctor as he turned away.
He walked home slowly, body heavier with each step. Once inside, he collapsed onto the bed, deciding to take a short nap — the pain was only getting worse.
A few hours passed.He woke up with a dull ache crawling through his body, discomfort tightening around his chest. His eyes felt heavy. Everything looked... off.
"Are my eyes okay?" he whispered, blinking hard. "This... this isn't my room."
A strange chill ran down his spine.
"I think I'm starting to have hallucinations," he mumbled, rising slowly from the bed.
He walked to the window, hoping the outside world would ground him.
But what he saw made his breath catch.
"Holy f*ck... where am I?"
"I think I might just go back to sleep," he muttered. "Maybe when I wake up, my eyes will be fine... and I won't be in this place I've never seen before."
He laid back down on the bed, but the moment his body touched the sheets, a sharp pain spread through him. It felt like his skin was being scorched, like he was lying inside a furnace.
The burning wouldn't stop.
Groaning, he sat up. "Guess it's better to stay awake... move around or something."
As he looked down at the floor, he noticed dozens of paper sheets scattered across the room. Most were covered in strange symbols — a language he didn't recognize.
He took a slow breath, then reached down and picked one up. There was a drawing on it something that looked like an ancient relic, detailed and almost glowing with meaning he couldn't grasp.
He stepped back in surprise, and his foot knocked into a glass of water sitting on a nearby table. It toppled, crashing to the ground, water spilling across the floor, soaking all the papers.
He stared at the mess, heart pounding.
"Where... where am I?" he whispered.
He moved slowly toward the table, his eyes locking onto a small box resting there. With a hesitant hand, he picked it up and slowly opened it. Inside, he found a knife. He examined it carefully, holding it in his palm as he muttered, "Just a normal knife, I guess." He set it back in the box, then turned toward the bed.
Beside it was a bag. He unzipped it, revealing four notebooks, one large book, and a rifle tucked inside. He stared at the contents, his mind racing. "What is all this... and whose stuff is this?" he thought, his heart pounding.
Then, as if pulled by an unseen force, he turned left. His eyes locked onto the mirror, and the reflection staring back at him was someone he didn't recognize. His breath caught in his throat. "Who are you...?" he screamed, his voice filled with fear and confusion. His mind screamed in panic. "This isn't me. Fein Jabari... who am I?"
He stared at his reflection, his voice dry with disbelief. "I now have dark blue eyes… and apparently a sense of style," he said, glancing down at the fitted black shirt, the ash-grey pants, and his lean frame. His fingers ran through his hair as a storm of thoughts began to rise. Where am I? Who am I? Am I safe? And… what happened to my body?
He walked over to the window and looked outside. Three towering buildings stood in the distance, their presence sharp and surreal. Beyond them stretched a sea of green a thick, untouched forest. He squinted through the glass, trying to take it all in. "I wonder how much is out there…" he murmured. "I know this is just a glimpse. My eyes… they're so heavy." A sigh escaped his lips. "I won't do anything now. I'll just… rest."
And as he drifted into sleep, the silence around him gave way to a flood. A dream, no a memory, rising like a tide from some forgotten shore.
Kayden Beric Malik.
Son of Metrovic Malik and Susan Emile. Brother to Javen Muhammed—the drunk with a shattered crown—and Rose Emile, bright star of the family. He saw his home: a four-bedroom mansion nestled in the 4th continent of Plek, beneath the rule of the mighty Arthur Melo the Third. His father—powerful, rich, and distant. His mother—a kind-hearted clerk with tired eyes. His brother—once successful, now bleeding his fortune into bottles and late nights. His sister—brilliant, fresh from Jade Ruby Talent University, her name already whispered by scholars. And himself—Kayden, master of art, fluent in two languages, skilled in dreaming, and exceptional at wasting time.
He awoke with a jolt, breath caught in his chest. "What a dream…" he whispered.
Still groggy, he shuffled toward the desk. A book lay there, old and familiar. He picked it up and turned it over Owned by Kayden Beric Malik.
He blinked."The dream is real… huh," he murmured.