The afternoon sun was warm on Iris's skin as she stepped out of the apartment, backpack slung over one shoulder and the novel tucked under her arm. Her mind still danced between her own life and the world of Queen Rose Rules the Apocalypse. The extra's quiet endurance, her subtle courage, the invisible burdens she carried these thoughts lingered like an echo, pulling Iris into reflection even as the city around her bustled with routine indifference.
She walked with measured steps down the narrow streets, balancing the fragile weight of her books and notes. The city was noisy, chaotic, and utterly oblivious to the minutiae of her existence. Vendors called out their wares, tires screeched, and the faint scent of smoke from street grills mingled with the sharper tang of asphalt and sunlight. It was all ordinary, mundane, yet it felt heavier today, as if the world carried an invisible tension only she could sense.
Her thoughts drifted to her best friend, to the hoarse voice from the call earlier that day, to the quiet insistence that she read the novel. Not pressure. Just care. The kind that did not demand anything in return. A strange tightness formed in her chest, not quite sadness, not quite gratitude. More like awareness. That someone, somewhere, actually noticed her existence. The thought stayed with her longer than it should have.
Lost in these reflections, Iris didn't notice the uneven pavement ahead. Her foot caught a raised edge, and the tray of papers and notebooks tumbled from her arms. She flinched, catching a few of them before they hit the ground, but one notebook slipped further, sliding into the street.
"Watch out!" a passerby shouted, but she barely registered it.
Her body twisted instinctively, reaching for the fallen notebook while trying not to step into the street. The balance was fleeting. In that fraction of a second, the world seemed to stretch, the sunlight flashing in her eyes as a horn blared sharply. She realized too late that the truck was moving faster than she anticipated, was heading straight toward her.
Time slowed. She stumbled, arms flailing, heart hammering in panic. The stack of papers scattered across the asphalt like oversized autumn leaves. She felt the sudden pull of gravity, the sharp jolt of impact not cinematic, not heroic, just sudden, brutal, and final.
The street swallowed the sound of her breath, leaving only the muted chaos of traffic and distant city noise. Bystanders gasped, some screamed, but it all felt distant, muffled, as if a bubble had formed around her senses.
Her last thought wasn't fear or anger. It was the sudden, unfinished sense that she had been in the middle of something.
And then darkness.
The world she had known, with its neglected family, endless responsibilities, and quiet triumphs over small victories, dissolved. There was no warning, no heroic save, no last-minute miracle. Just the abrupt, unceremonious end of one life… and the imminent beginning of another.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, the faint echo of a message lingered a soft reminder of curiosity, empathy, and the novel she had been reading. Threads of her thoughts, of her quiet determination, remained, like embers waiting to ignite in a world yet unseen.
It was the first page of something entirely new.