Joshen's eyes snapped open.
Stone.
Cold. Damp.
That was the first thing he felt.
His back ached against the hard floor, joints stiff from sleeping without movement. Iron bars loomed in front of him, faint moonlight leaking through them in thin strips. The air smelled of rust, sweat, and old water.
Prison.
Again.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue softly.
Four days.
Four damn days since Kame had thrown him into this world like discarded luggage.
Four days and nothing makes sense.
He sat up slowly, chains clinking faintly as he moved. His stomach growled—sharp, angry.
That bastard…
'Endure,' he said.
Endure what exactly? Starving? Being treated like a lunatic?
His jaw tightened.
The first day replayed itself whether he wanted it to or not.
Everything was wrong. The sky color. The streets. The way people looked at me.
I asked them where the castle was.
A castle.
They laughed.
A bitter smirk crossed his face.
Some called me crazy. Some walked away like I didn't exist.
I didn't even have food.
I asked. Begged.
He remembered the looks.
Disgust. Pity. Indifference.
Most didn't give anything. A few threw scraps.
Like feeding a stray.
His fists clenched.
That night I slept in a tunnel. Cold stone. Dozens of people lying packed together. No names. No stories. Just breathing bodies.
I didn't sleep. I waited.
The second day.
Someone woke me up. A man. He looked tired… but kind.
Said I was new. Asked questions. Didn't laugh.
Joshen leaned his head back against the wall.
He told me about his life.
Left his home. Wife. Child.
Said he couldn't earn. Said he was a burden.
He smiled when he said it. Like it was normal.
His fingers dug into the stone.
He took me to a café. Small place. Dirty. Barely surviving.
Asked the manager for work.
I became a waiter that day.
Annoyance flickered.
Serving people who wouldn't even look at me. Smiling because I had to.
But it was peaceful.
Quiet.
Third day.
Same routine. Work. Serve. Clean. Eat cheap food. Sleep in the tunnel again.
I thought maybe… this is what surviving meant.
His breath slowed.
Then—
Today, he was gone.
Anger surged again.
Didn't wake me. Didn't wait. Just vanished.
I searched everywhere. Asked people.
No one cared.
A humorless laugh escaped him.
So I punched someone.
Didn't think. Just did it.
Turns out he was some minister or important trash.
Joshen glanced at the bars.
Now I'm here.
Locked up. Hungry.
Amazing plan, Kame. Truly brilliant.
Then—
A sensation.
Different.
Not hunger. Not anger.
A presence.
"Hey…" a voice murmured. "Are you okay?"
Joshen stiffened.
His head snapped up.
"…What?"
The voice wasn't outside the cell.
It was inside his head.
"You can hear me, right?" the voice continued, hesitant. "I don't know how… but it sounds like a lot has happened."
Joshen's heartbeat spiked.
No.
That's not possible.
"…Who are you?" Joshen whispered under his breath.
A pause.
Then—
"I'm Jake," the voice said. "And I think… I can hear you. Everything."
Joshen's fingers trembled.
You're lying.
"I'm not," Jake replied quietly. "And… I think you can hear me too."
Silence swallowed the cell.
Joshen exhaled slowly.
…Damn it.
Two minds.
One impossible link.
Joshen stared through the iron bars, eyes narrowing.
So this is what you did, Kame.
You didn't just move me.
You tied us together.
Somewhere far away, Jake felt the weight of those words.
And deep within the prison cell—
Something irreversible clicked into place.
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Joshen leaned back against the cold stone wall, eyes half-lidded, as if grounding himself in something real. The chains around his wrists felt heavier now—not because of their weight, but because of what they symbolized.
"So," he said slowly, carefully, "you're still there."
"Yes," Jake replied. His voice echoed faintly inside Joshen's mind, distant yet intimate. "And unless I've finally lost it… you're not a hallucination."
A sharp breath escaped Joshen's nose. "Trust me. If this were insanity, it would be kinder than the truth."
Jake hesitated. Joshen could feel it—uncertainty rippling through the invisible link between them. Emotions leaked across the bond like spilled ink: confusion, fear, a desperate need for answers.
"Where are you?" Jake asked.
"A prison cell," Joshen answered flatly. "Stone floor. Iron bars. Smells like rot and regret."
"…That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
Another pause.
Then Jake spoke again, quieter this time. "You sound… used to this. Like this isn't the first time something impossible happened to you."
Joshen closed his eyes.
"I don't have the luxury of disbelief anymore."
The moonlight shifted slightly through the bars as he straightened, jaw tightening. He could feel the moment approaching—the point of no return. Once he said it, nothing would ever be the same.
"Jake," Joshen said, his voice low, steady. "What I'm about to tell you will stun you. Completely. You might deny it. You might think I'm insane. But I need you to listen. Every word."
Jake swallowed. Joshen felt it, clear as if it were his own throat tightening.
"…Okay," Jake said. "I'm listening."
Joshen exhaled slowly.
"Four days ago," he began, "your soul was transferred into Kame's body."
" His tone hardened. "Kame's soul was transferred into my body."
Jake's thoughts spiraled wildly, images flashing—mirrors, unfamiliar hands, a face that didn't feel entirely his. His pulse thundered.
"And my soul," Joshen continued, voice dropping to a near whisper, "was transferred into this body. Your body."
Silence detonated.
Jake's breathing grew uneven. "You're saying… I'm not me?"
"You are you," Joshen replied. "But you're not where you're supposed to be."
"That doesn't make sense," Jake said sharply. "I remember everything. My life. My memories. My—"
"Memories stay with the soul," Joshen said. "Bodies are just vessels."
A bitter chuckle escaped him. "Trust me. I would know."
Jake's thoughts raced. "Why? Why would someone do this?"
Joshen's fingers curled into fists. "Because of what's coming."
A chill seeped through the bond, colder than the stone beneath Joshen's back.
"There is a tragedy," Joshen said. "A catastrophe so absolute that Kame decided this was the only way to survive it. Or prevent it. Or rewrite it."
Jake felt dread coil in his stomach. "What tragedy?"
Joshen opened his eyes, staring into the darkness beyond the bars as if it might answer for him.
"It's called the FINAL WAY ."
The words carried weight—ancient, ominous. They echoed inside Jake's mind long after Joshen stopped speaking.
Jake shook his head. "Wait—four days ago? Are you sure about the timing?"