The bustling city roared with relentless noise—cars screeching, horns blaring, and people rushing toward their workplaces. It was early morning, far too early, barely five o'clock, yet the streets were already crowded. Everyone wore the same expression: tired, unwilling, drained.
Among them walked a man who blended perfectly into the crowd.
Brian.
His eyes were gloomy—dark, unfocused—set against fair brown skin. He wore an average, clean suit and carried a work handbag at his side. As he walked, he glanced down at his phone, scrolling through emails and unread messages while skillfully dodging passersby, as if he had eyes on his forehead.
At the same time, upbeat anime music played softly through his earpiece, sealing him inside his own little world. In his mind, the crowd became enemies, and he imagined himself dodging invisible strikes as he moved forward.
Time passed quickly.
Brian checked the time on his phone and frowned. He was going to be late.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and hailed a cab. One arrived almost immediately. He entered, gave the driver a brief glance, and said quietly, "Bastos, please."
The driver nodded and pulled away.
Brian checked his phone again. Messages from his dad. His mom. His brother.
He ignored them.
He wasn't in the mood to talk.
Opening TikTok, he scrolled through reels, killing time until the cab stopped. He paid, stepped out, and looked up at the embassy building ahead of him.
Brian sighed.
Another ordinary day.
His daily routine never changed: go to work, go home, rest, repeat. He wasn't married. Not in a relationship. Only a few friends. A loner by nature.
As he packed away the last papers of the day, Brian glanced at his watch and nodded. Closing hour.
He arranged his desk, stood up, and slipped on his jacket. As he passed a nearby office, a voice stopped him.
"Hey, Brian. Heading home already?"
He turned to see a female colleague looking at him. She adjusted her hair nervously, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
"Yeah," Brian replied.
He considered asking if she needed anything, but dismissed the thought. It would only lead to work he didn't want to do.
She straightened herself and smiled. "Um… Mrs. Angelica is organizing a small gathering. She got a promotion, and she and her fiancé will be getting married soon."
Brian nodded. "Yeah, I know."
"Well…" she hesitated. "I thought maybe you'd like to come. If you're interested, that is. No pressure."
Brian almost said not interested, but stopped when he noticed her shy smile.
"I'm sorry," he said carefully. "I'm not feeling very well today. I was planning to go home and rest."
Her smile faltered.
"Oh… I see," she said quietly. "That's okay. Not a problem at all. Please rest well. See you next week."
Brian thanked her and said goodbye. As he walked away, she forced a smile and joined the others congratulating Angelica.
Nearby, a man watched the exchange and laughed quietly to himself. He licked his lips, already imagining how he would take advantage of her during the party.
Sad women are easy, he thought.
He was pleased with how Brian had behaved.
Brian sat in another cab, rubbing his eyes as he stared out the window.
Should I have gone? he wondered.
The thought vanished instantly.
"A dying man can't drag someone into his misery," he muttered.
Brian was dying.
And no one knew.
He had been diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes a year ago. Stubborn as ever, he ignored it and buried himself in work. Now the consequences had caught up to him—fatigue, confusion, blurred vision. Every day, it worsened.
"Well," he sighed, "I'll visit the hospital tomorrow."
His phone vibrated.
A call.
"Hey, bro. How you holding up?" a familiar voice said.
"Hey, Jonas. It's been a while," Brian replied, exhausted. "How are things?"
"Good, good. But damn, you sound like a dead fish."
Brian chuckled weakly. "Just tired. How's your wife and kids?"
"Great. My wife's a headache, but I love her. And my little angels are doing fine."
Brian smiled softly.
"So," Jonas continued, "when are you getting married?"
Brian froze.
"I don't know," he said. "No girl has really caught my interest."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised. So you're telling me no girl has ever asked you out?"
Brian thought of his colleague. "Actually… one did today. I rejected her."
"Stupid!"
"Huh?!"
"You're in your thirties! Get your life together!" Jonas shouted. "Get married, you old virgin!"
Brian groaned—but he couldn't stop recalling her disappointed expression.
"Maybe… maybe I should try," he admitted.
Jonas cheered.
Brian asked the driver to change destinations. After some negotiation, the driver agreed. As the car moved, Brian felt unusually sleepy.
"So tired…" he murmured. "Wake me when we arrive."
The driver nodded.
Brian never woke up.
Glitch.
His vision twisted.
Towering dark figures surrounded him, wearing white masks with unnaturally wide smiles.
Then—nothing.
Brian jolted awake.
Small arms clung desperately to strong adult hands, scratching them in panic. A woman sobbed above him, screaming in a language he didn't understand. The words sounded foreign, alien—but slowly, like tuning a radio, they became clear.
"Why don't you just die?!"
What's happening?Where am I?Where's the driver?Who is this woman?I can't breathe—
His vision blurred. Strength drained from his body.
So this is it…
Suddenly, someone shoved the woman away. Another person rushed in, shaking him, trying to revive him.
"Wake up! Wake up!" a girl's voice cried desperately.
Brian's eyes flew open.
He sat up in bed, gasping.
The room was unfamiliar. Dim. Quiet.
Beside him, a small girl slept, eyes red and swollen from crying. On the other side, a boy snored loudly, saliva dripping from his mouth.
Brian stared at his hands.
They were small.
Too small.
He touched his face, heart pounding.
"Where… am I?" he whispered.