What is the most beautiful thing in life? What do we truly want from it?**
A difficult question—confusing, deceptive even.
Because the answer is deeply emotional, and it's impossible for everyone to agree on one truth.
Each person sees life through their own lens. Each carries their own dreams and desires.
But what about him?
This is just a story about someone… who wanted a family.
---
A cold breeze swept through a narrow alley, carrying the foul stench of old garbage bags scattered across the ground.
In that dim place, where only thin rays of sunlight managed to pierce the suffocating shadows,
a young boy knelt, lifting his hands and face toward the sky, eyes closed in a silent prayer.
He whispered softly, barely audible:
**"I'm… grateful to be alive for another day. Please, guide me…"**
His words hung in the stale air. After a moment of silence, his brow furrowed, and he clenched his teeth in frustration.
**"Maybe I should've asked for death from demons instead. Who am I even thanking? Have I gone insane…?"**
He held his head with both hands as strange whispers echoed in his mind—
they were coming from within, yet distant, crawling at the edges of his sanity.
**"It seems… I've been chosen."**
As the voices faded slightly, the boy slowly stood up and began to walk out of the alley.
Sunlight spilled onto him like golden threads, revealing his frail and fragile form: pale, thin skin stretched over sharp bones, sunken cheeks, half-closed black eyes calm as a deep pond, and messy long black hair falling past his shoulders.
From his right ear hung a single, worn yellow earring.
He wore a torn white shirt, repeatedly stitched and repaired, and black trousers—his clothes old and battered, as if they had survived a war alongside him and were now begging for rest.
He glanced down at himself and gave a weak smile.
**"Who would've thought I'd be one of the chosen? A slum rat like me… what a cruel joke."**
He looked around at the decaying surroundings—crumbling apartment blocks, polluted air, and broken infrastructure.
The people here weren't much better off than he was… but at least they had roofs over their heads.
He scowled briefly, then turned toward his destination.
While walking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two small coins—his earnings from the past week.
He stared at them thoughtfully. It wasn't much. Barely enough for anything decent.
**"Oh well... I might die soon anyway, so I should try something rich people like."**
He tilted his head slightly.
But what *do* the rich enjoy eating or drinking? Fancy meals were obviously out of reach, and famous cafés weren't even in his wildest dreams.
So what could he try as his *final* indulgence?
As he walked and hummed to himself in thought, an idea sparked in his mind.
Before reaching his original destination, he took a detour and entered a small corner shop.
Five minutes later, he walked out, holding a small paper cup.
A strong aroma tingled his nose, giving him a strange sensation.
What he held in his hand was black coffee.
From what he had heard here and there, rich people seemed to *worship* this thing. Some even called it sacred to their daily routine.
The teenager stared into the cup for a few seconds.
**"Do they… really love this stuff?"**
Without wasting more time, he took a sip.
The result was… not what he expected.
**"Ugh—! It's… way too bitter!"**
He pulled the cup away from his mouth and exhaled with a grimace.
After that experience, he doubted he'd ever buy it again—
**that is, if he ever got another chance.**
He stood up, tossed the cup into a rusted bin by the roadside, and kept walking.
Inside him churned a strange storm: fear, anxiety… dread.
And yet, deep within a hidden corner of his heart—there was a flicker.
A whisper of hope.
A fragile, foolish ambition.
If he succeeded—
his life could change completely.
Some say there's a thing called the *Awakening Test*, given to those who show signs of a strange illness.
Those who survive it gain supernatural powers and fantastical magical abilities.
They become wanted. Celebrated. Desired.
Just passing it can change your life forever.
But those who fail…
might never open their eyes again.Or that's what he heard
Ten minutes later, the boy stopped in front of a large building, different from all the others.
It was professionally designed, and on its door was an elegant emblem made of strange dust—stars surrounding a crescent at the top—like stardust.
That emblem symbolized the government.
The teenager took a deep breath, ran his hand through his black hair, and stepped toward the door.
**"Boy, are you here for the test?"**
The teen turned his head toward the voice with a small, polite smile and answered in a quiet tone:
**"Yes, sir. I'd be grateful if you could help me…"**
The man with brown eyes and dressed in a blue and white uniform gave him a long look.
In the end, his expression remained stern and cold as he gestured toward the door.
**"Then follow me."**
The boy sensed a hint of sympathy in the man's tone,
as if he didn't want him to go through the test.
But that was understandable.
Many had lost brothers, and many parents had lost their children.
It would be strange **not** to feel something for a child about to walk the same path.
The boy followed the officer inside and trailed him down a staircase leading to a basement.
They stopped in front of a metal door.
The man unlocked it using a code and a card in his hand, revealing a hallway leading deeper underground.
The man glanced over his shoulder and asked calmly:
**"Tell me your name."**
The teen answered with a slightly awkward smile:
**"Uh… it's Kalm, sir."**
The man's expression shifted to one of seriousness.
**"What symptoms have you felt in the past few days?"**
Kalm held his head with his hand and said:
**"A kind of fog in my mind… it clouds my thoughts.
And also strange whispers—sometimes distant, sometimes scarily close…"**
The officer listened attentively and finally said:
**"Listen closely, Kalm. You're now standing at a crossroads—
either you succeed and change your life… or you die."**
He paused, and only the echo of their footsteps filled the long corridor.
**"You must stay strong. Calm. Alert. Focused.
And above all else—you must be cunning, even deceitful.
Do whatever it takes to survive. No matter what it is."**
Kalm looked up at the man with a strange expression.
**"Sir… if I may ask… what *is* the Awakening Test, exactly?"**
The man's eyes darkened slightly, and for a moment, his features shifted.
"Simply put… it's a double-edged sword.
When you pass through the Rift Gate,
the Voice of the World will take you—to face a test crafted just for you.
Some find themselves in the middle of a war.
Some fall into their worst nightmares.
Some awaken in their most precious dreams.
And some… are no longer even human.
You must *do something* to end the test and come out alive…"
The man paused for a moment, then added with a note of anger:
**"These tests are designed to *force* teenagers—violently—
to give something up… or gain something new.
The Voice of the World will push you to take the next step on the path to ascension…
or you'll simply die."**
Kalm looked at the man with his calm, dark eyes,
then turned his gaze toward the corridor ahead.
**'Simply put… move forward, or die.'**
Brutal. Direct. Extreme.
But in this mad world, maybe that was a good thing…
Before reaching the next door, Kalm asked:
**"Sir, what happens to those who die during the test?"**
The man considered the question, his eyes darkening slightly.
After a moment of silence, he answered in a complex tone:
*"There are two possibilities.
First, your body remains trapped in the illusion of the test—forever.
No one knows what happens to those who stay inside.
Did they die? Find peace?
Or become mindless beasts?
No one knows...
The second possibility is worse.
Some have their souls shattered during the test,
and a monster takes over their body instead.
Then we're forced to kill them.
We call it… madness."
Kalm's eyes trembled slightly, and he clenched his fist unconsciously.
The two stood before a massive steel gate,
its towering frame more than four meters high.
The man entered another code, and with a heavy sound, the gate opened—
white steam pouring from behind it.
Kalm's eyes widened at what he saw…
Inside was a huge cylindrical chamber,
filled with deadly machines and thick armored plates.
But what truly made his body shiver—
was the massive gate tearing through reality in the far wall.
It reached up past the ceiling, glowing with swirls of interlaced colors—
red, yellow, violet, white…
a living, surreal painting.
From within it came a strange sensation.
Not exactly danger…
but not safety either.
Something was pulling him toward it—
a whisper, distant and irresistible.
**'So… this is the Awakening Gate.'**
Kalm swallowed nervously, his eyes fixed on the terrifying portal.
The man looked at him, his eyes now shadowed,
and said in a deep, chilling voice:
**"Listen, Kalm. If you succeed… you'll be fine.
But if you fail…"**
He paused, then pointed toward the strange machines nearby.
**"…you'll die here.
But try to survive.
The nearest government Awakened won't arrive quickly…"**
He placed a firm hand on Kalm's shoulder, fingers gripping tightly.
**"Good luck."**
With those words, the man stepped aside, clearing the path.
Kalm nodded firmly,
raised his hand to touch his earring,
took a deep breath—
and stepped toward the gate.
His heart pounded.
His muscles tensed.
'Let's… let's stay positive.
What's the worst that could happen?'