Judge: "After reviewing the evidence presented, hearing the arguments from both the prosecution and the defense, and receiving the jury's final decision…"
(The judge pauses for a minute.)
Judge: "…This court finds the defendant, Mr. Jay, guilty of first-degree murder, under Section 302 of the Penal Code."
(A gasp rises from the public gallery. The defendant's hands tremble.)
Judge (continues): "Given the heinous nature of your crime, and the lack of remorse shown during the trial, this court hereby sentences you to death by hanging, subject to confirmation by the Court."
(The judge picks up the gavel.)
Judge:
"This court is adjourned."
(Gavel slams.)
Jay (Narrating):
That was the last thing I heard in my world…
Man 1: Just die, you murderer!
Man 2: People like you don't belong here—die!
Woman 1: Why were you even born, you killer?!
Woman 2: Scum like you should've died early!
Jay (Narrating):
Their words didn't make me angry or broken.
They felt… true.
None of them knew the full story, yet they cursed me anyway.
Still, like they said…
I wanted to die.
I had lost something precious.
A place.
A reason to live.
Everything.
The heavy doors creaked open.
Cold air brushed against my skin as two guards flanked me, one on each side.
Their hands were firm, but not cruel.
I didn't resist.
What was the point?
My wrists were bound in front. I felt the tightness of the rope, its rough fibers digging into my skin.
My legs moved, but I couldn't feel them.
My body was here… but my mind was somewhere else.
I stared at the wooden gallows ahead.
The noose swayed gently—like it had been waiting just for me.
We climbed the steps.
The Warden stood at the edge, reading from a folded parchment, his voice echoing in the cold morning air.
Warden:
"Jay Mayor, convicted under Section 302 of the Penal Code for murder… your sentence of death by hanging is to be carried out as per law, on this day, at this hour."
That name…
It hit me like a whisper from the grave.
I said nothing.
There was nothing left to say.
A priest stepped forward, kind-eyed and weary.
Priest:
"Say your final prayers, my son,"
He offered, soft as rain.
I didn't look at him.
My eyes locked on the noose.
That ugly rope.
Stained, worn… hungry.
No prayers came.
No thoughts.
Only the weight of what I'd done… and what I'd become.
The Warden gave a nod.
Officer 1:
"Proceed."
I closed my eyes.
The hangman pulled the lever.
A rush of air.
A sudden drop—
Then…
Nothing.
Darkness.
That's what I thought.
The drop felt real.
I was hanging.
The judgment… complete.
Then… nothing.
No pain.
No breath.
No sound.
No weight.
Just silence.
I died.
I wanted to die.
So why…
Why am I still here?
Is this… the afterlife?
I couldn't see anything.
Is it because my body died?
Am I a soul now?
There's no light.
Only grey fog.
A fog with no shape.
No ground.
No sky.
No end.
It feels like floating inside a memory that's forgotten itself.
???: "Jay…"
A voice.
It doesn't echo.
It's not loud.
But I feel it.
???: "Jay Mayor…"
I look around—but there's nothing.
Just mist.
And a chill that isn't cold, yet makes my skin crawl.
Jay: Who's calling me?
Another voice rises—
Familiar.
+++: "You said you wanted to die, didn't you?"
It's my voice.
My own.
Mocking me.
Then I hear others—
The courtroom voices.
"Why were you even born?"
"Just die, you murderer!"
I close my eyes.
But here…
Closing your eyes changes nothing.
Because here,
You can't escape your truth.
Tap… tap… tap…
Footsteps.
Not mine.
A figure walks out of the mist.
Tall.
Draped in a long black robe.
No face—just a hollow void where a face should be.
It stops a few feet away.
☠: "You were sentenced to death. But your soul hasn't decided yet."
Jay: "…What?"
☠: "You think you wanted to die. But your heart hesitated… at the very end."
Jay: "I didn't."
☠: "You did."
I look down—
Floating.
Thinking.
Remembering.
Jay: "What is this place?"
The figure tilts its head, like curious prey inspecting a corpse.
☠: "Limbo. A place between judgment… and rebirth."
Jay: "Am I… being judged?"
The mist ripples, like wind disturbing still water.
☠: "No. You already were."
Jay: "…Then what now?"
☠: "That depends on you."
Its voice sharpens.
☠: "Do you still want to die?"
I stay silent.
Because…
I don't know the answer.
Jay: Do I?
Then—
A crack in the air.
Golden light bleeds through the fog like a wound torn open in the void.
Warm.
Distant.
The figure turns toward it.
☠: "Your door has opened.
Walk through it…
If you still want to exist."
I stare at the light.
Something inside me trembles.
Not fear.
Not hope.
Just… movement
After so long of feeling nothing.
I take a step.
Then another.
Then I run.
Jay (Narrating):
Maybe I did want to die.
But something… something inside me pushed me forward.
And now—
I don't know where I am.
Or who I'm about to become.
But I know one thing.
This… is not the end.
**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **
I ran toward the golden light.
That was the last moment of the murderer.
From then on…
I was someone else.
Kwah… Kwah… Kwah…
That's the first thing I heard in this new life.
A woman lifted me up and handed me to someone.
He looked like a warrior—no, he was a warrior.
I think… he might be my father in this life.
He held me gently.
Tears streamed down his face, yet he smiled.
He was overjoyed.
His name was Park.
I don't know if that's his first or last name.
But everyone called him Park.
From the very moment I was born, I noticed something strange in the air.
It flowed all around me—shimmering colors.
If I counted right, there were five:
White. Yellow. Green. Blue. Red.
I cried nonstop.
I couldn't control the emotions of this infant body.
Park passed me to my mother.
Her face… or maybe her presence—felt oddly familiar.
She fed me, and as soon as I was in her arms, I fell asleep.
Her name… was Fern.
**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **
Three Months Later
It's been three months since I was born in this world.
And honestly?
This life is peaceful. Too peaceful.
Fern: "Park, dinner's ready! Come down!"
Park: "Okay. I'm almost finished here."
Zoie: "Yeah, he almost finished."
Fern: "Don't 'almost' me. Just come down already."
But here's the thing…
Park is kind of a pervert.
He has three wives.
And I'm the son of his second wife.
I have two brothers and four big sisters.
My sisters are the worst—they keep surrounding me on my bed, poking my cheeks and disturbing my naps.
This house has a private library, though.
Whenever I escape (read: crawl) from them, I go there.
In my previous life, we had a saying:
"Knowledge is power."
And I took that personally.
The library is huge—as big as the college auditorium from my old world.
I still can't read the letters, but luckily, every book has pictures.
That's how I started understanding this world.
Apparently, those colorful particles in the air are called Aura Fiber Cores.
Even with that knowledge, I still don't know exactly what they do.
By my fifth month, I learned to collect these particles.
They're used to form a mana pool in the body.
Most people in the house barely had any.
But my father?
He had all of them.
A complete aura pool.
Except—
His aura was only red.
And I wonder…
Why just red?