My head hurts. It feels like something is pressing from inside my skull, throbbing so hard that my eyes can barely open. The air around me is cold—too cold, colder than cold. Every breath I take forms a thin mist as I try to draw air into my lungs. This place… where am I?
I try to move my head, look around, but my vision is blurry. Everything seems gray, hazy, and silent. No wind, no thunder, not even the sound of rain that clearly drenches my body—it's gone, as if the world has lost its senses. I can only feel the drops hitting my skin, piercingly cold like needles, yet without a single sound accompanying them.
Then, among the mist dancing in the air, I see someone. The figure stands not far in front of me, dressed all in white, with long hair that hangs as pale as their skin. They don't walk; they glide slowly toward me, their movement smooth but unnatural. I want to step back, want to scream, but my body is frozen. Every muscle feels petrified, able only to tremble uncontrollably.
"P-please don't come closer…" my voice is hoarse, barely audible.
But the figure doesn't stop. They keep approaching, their pale hand reaching toward me, long, cold fingers almost touching my face.
The moment their skin brushes mine, the pain comes. Not just pain, but as if something is piercing my head, forcefully digging into memories I don't even want to remember. The world spins violently, the rain suddenly pouring harder, and all the colors in my eyes melt into gray and red.
"Ahh—!!"
I clutch my head, falling to my knees on the ground softened by the rain. A buzzing fills my ears, like a thousand bees spinning inside my brain. My body shakes violently, and for a moment, I feel as if I'm being pulled out of my own body.
Then—
"Hey—"
The voice pierces the emptiness.
"Peter! Wake up!"
Everything suddenly stops. The pain in my head vanishes, replaced by the sound of rain I can finally hear again. The world regains its colors, though it still feels heavy. I blink slowly, and my gaze falls on a man with slightly wet black hair, standing in front of me, breathing hard. His face… handsome, his eyes sharp yet gentle.
Huh… brother?
"Peter, I told you not to go out in the rain," he says softly. He touches my shoulder again, but this time it's warm, not cold, not painful.
I stare at him for a long moment. Something feels strange. I feel like I know him, yet… I don't.
"What happened?" I murmur softly. "Why am I here?"
I look around. The world that was gray before now looks like our backyard—wet grass, wooden fence, puddles under an overcast sky. But why does it feel like a strange place?
And… where is everyone? Those who screamed earlier, the ones who dragged me, chained me… why have they vanished?
I look at my brother again. He gives a faint smile, but his eyes seem to be holding something back.
"You're not stable yet, and you went out in the rain? Look at your wounds, all of them open!" His voice is sharp, almost like a scolding father to a misbehaving child. He quickly helps me stand, supporting my half-swaying body with his warm hands.
Wounds?… What wounds?
I lower my head slowly. The clothes I'm wearing are torn in several places, and beneath the wet fabric, the deep red of my own blood is visible. The color is stark against my pale skin, seeping heavily as the relentless rain continues to fall.
Ah, right… now I remember.
Yesterday I went hunting. There was something in the forest, something moving behind the mist. I got badly injured trying to fight it. But… why doesn't it hurt at all now? As if my body has gone numb.
"Come inside" my brother says, his tone softer this time. He leads me into our small house. The wooden walls are starting to rot, the cold floor creaks with every step, and the scent of wet earth drifts in from outside. Everything feels so real, so familiar, yet there's something that makes this place feel… different.
He fetches a clean cloth and warm water, then carefully kneels before me. His hands move skillfully, removing the old bandages and preparing to rewrap the wound on my stomach. But the moment the fabric is lifted, we both freeze.
The wound… is gone.
No torn skin, no blood, no ripped tissue—just smooth, flawless skin.
My brother is silent. His eyes widen, breath caught in his chest. He looks at me as if seeing a ghost. "P-Peter… the wound… it's gone?" His voice trembles.
I can only stare back blankly. "I… I don't know."
Silence fills the room. Only the soft sound of rain outside reaches us, tapping gently against the roof. My brother stares at me for a long moment, then suddenly his eyes redden. He sets the cloth down on the floor and hugs me tightly, so tightly I can barely breathe.
"Thank God…" he says, his voice breaking against my shoulder. "Thank God it was only an illusion. I thought I was going to lose you like them…"
I freeze. Like them?
His words hang in the air, unanswered, as my mind drifts back to the faint memories of the forest. To how the mist thickened, the strange whispers behind the trees, and something attacking me with silver-glinting eyes.
Could… all of that have been just an illusion? Like my brother said?
Or could it be the other way around—the real illusion is this? This small warm house, my brother's comforting embrace, and my body suddenly healed with not a single trace of injury.
I look toward the window. Outside, the rain still pours heavily. And among the shadows of trees swaying in the wind, I catch a glimpse of… that white figure again. Standing still, staring toward our house, its eyes empty and sharp.
The smile is the same.
My hand moves faster than my thoughts. In an instant, I shove my brother's body away—too hard. The sound of his body hitting the floor is faint, but I don't turn around. My eyes are fixed on the window. That figure… the one that stood out there… where did it go?
I step closer, my footsteps echoing softly between the whisper of the rain that still hasn't stopped. The glass is fogged from the difference in temperature, and I wipe it with the back of my hand, trying to find any sign of it. But nothing. No one is out there—only the shadows of trees swaying in the wind.
Even so, the cold seeping in through the cracks of the door and walls suddenly feels sharper. My skin prickles for no reason, and my breathing grows heavy. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong.
I swallow hard, slowly turning my head because I feel a touch on my shoulder. Cold, damp, and rough. And when my gaze finally meets its source—
—I wish I hadn't looked.
My brother stands there. Or… something that looks like him. Half of his face has melted like burning wax, his skin charred on one side, and from a crack in his skull, something pulses slowly… a brain. The one eye that remains intact stares at me with a mix of rage and obsession.
"You were supposed to look at me," he says, his voice hoarse and broken. "Only me. Not her."
That burnt hand cuts through the air, gripping my neck with unbelievable strength. His fingers are cold, yet his grasp feels like iron. I try to breathe, but the air won't come. My body trembles, tears streaming uncontrollably. The pain in my throat makes my vision blur.
I beat at his arm, trying to break free. "B… bro…" my voice dies midway through the suffocation. He stares at me from that close distance, his black eyes empty, yet filled with something… possessive.
"Why won't you stay with me?" he says again, his smile twisted and horrifying. "We can be here forever."
No! I don't want to die here!
With what little strength I have left, I raise my knee as high as I can and kick him. I don't know where I hit, but it's hard enough to make his grip loosen. I stumble backward, coughing violently, clutching my sore neck.
Without a second thought, I dash toward the door. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst at any moment. I twist the doorknob, but my trembling hands make it difficult to turn. Behind me, I hear it—bones cracking… creak… creak… creak… like someone forcing their joints back into place.
I glance back—and almost scream. My brother rises in a way no human body should be able to move. His motions are jerky, broken, like a damaged puppet. One leg drags across the floor, blood dripping from an open wound, yet he keeps walking.
His groans fill the room. "You shouldn't leave… Peter… You died in that forest…"
I freeze. The words cut through my mind like knives.
Dead? Me?
And in that instant, faint memories flash before my eyes—the mist, the blood, the white eyes staring at me from between the trees. The wound on my stomach… the blood that stopped flowing… the body that no longer hurt…
Ah… how foolish of me.
From the beginning… my brother couldn't walk.
Then who was it that led me inside earlier?
Who hugged me… and treated a wound that wasn't even there?
"Damn it, damn it, damn it! Please, open—open the damn door!" I keep yanking the handle with trembling hands. Every second feels like torture. The door won't budge, as if refusing to let me leave. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my chest tightening.
Behind me, my brother's steps grow nearer—slow but heavy—accompanied by the grotesque sound of something that should not be alive. I can feel the cold creeping between my hair and skin, and then something touches my hand. Not a human hand, but something cold, slick, and strong.
My hand goes still, no longer my own.
"Do you know" my brother's voice whispers right beside my ear, so close his breath brushes my skin "I became like this… because I tried to protect you?"
My heart pounds painfully fast. I don't dare turn around. The stench of rot fills the air, sharp enough to sting my nose. I want to scream, but my voice is trapped in my throat.
The shadow on the floor begins to rise, wrapping around my legs, then my body. It feels like being swallowed by a living darkness. I struggle, but it's useless—my movements make only faint sounds against the ringing rain.
"I told you…" the voice grows rougher, deeper "you were supposed to look only at me."
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to deny what's happening. But before I can think, something shoves me violently. My body slams backward, my head hitting hard, and my vision spins.
Pain.
Everything hurts.
My blood throbs through my veins, its heat like fire spreading from within to the tips of my fingers. "Ha… hahh… it hurts so much…" My voice is hoarse, echoing in the rain-soaked room. "Please… tell me this is a dream… someone… wake me up…"
Tears fall endlessly, blurring my sight. In front of me, my brother still moves closer. His smile—no, it's not a human smile. His mouth stretches too wide, too unnaturally, the corners reaching up to his ears. My breath catches, my chest tightens, my heart pounding so violently it feels ready to burst.
His hand reaches out, those long, pale fingers inches from my face. My body trembles; I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can, praying that if I open them again, all of this will be gone.
Then a scream echoes—sharp, terrifying—shattering the silence.
I open my eyes—
and the world changes instantly.
In front of me stands a man dressed entirely in white, his presence radiating a cold aura that seems to crush the air around him. His long white hair is damp, strands sticking slightly from the rain dripping through the window. In his hand, a gleaming sword is buried deep in my brother's chest. Blood splatters, a few drops landing on my face as he drives the blade in further.
My brother screams, his voice filling the room with fury and unbearable pain.
"Damn you! You bastard! You stole my prey!"
His body jerks backward, then bolts forward at impossible speed, crashing through the wall and vanishing into the storm outside—leaving only me and the man in white. My breathing is ragged, my body burning and trembling violently. Every nerve feels drained, like all my strength has been ripped away at once.
The man lowers his head, eyes of piercing blue fixed on me—clear, cold, unfamiliar. For a moment, he says nothing, letting the silence settle thick between us. Only the sound of rain tapping against the window remains, soft yet heavy, amplifying the tension.
His gaze cuts through me, deep and unyielding. Then, finally, he speaks—his voice low, icy, yet clear as glass in my ears.
"Since when did you start calling that thing your brother?"
The question shakes me to the core. I swallow hard, my heartbeat quickening painfully. Each word seems to slice the air, hitting my lungs, crushing my thoughts.
I want to answer, but my voice won't come. My body is frozen—shaking, burning—my breath short, my blood pulsing violently through every vein. Outside, the rain keeps falling, its rhythm turning sinister.
The tension spikes when a faint white shadow flashes past the window—a blur that makes every hair on my neck stand on end. I know, whether it's real or not, something is about to happen. Something I won't be able to escape.
"You have to choose" the man says, his tone as sharp as his blade. "Will you stay here… or come with me?"
I can't move. I don't know what to do.
"It seems… you don't have a choice" he mutters, voice cold as frost.
I don't even get the chance to reply. My body is trembling uncontrollably, my breathing shallow, my heart slamming against my ribs.
He steps closer—calm, deliberate. The icy aura around him thickens, freezing the air in my lungs. In one swift motion, his hand reaches for my arm, pulling me up to my feet. My knees buckle; I can barely stand.
Before I can steady myself, pain snaps across the back of my neck—his hand strikes with perfect precision. My vision goes black, the world spins, and the sound of rain fades, replaced by a deep, echoing roar inside my skull.
I stumble, ready to fall—but something unseen catches me, holding me in place.
Darkness.
Everything is darkness.