Who am I?
That's the only question I've been asking myself for as long as I can remember. That gnawing emptiness—the feeling of not knowing who I am or what I truly want—keeps eating away at me.
I'm tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of breathing just because I'm supposed to.
I've reached the point where I don't really care if I die. Not that I'd ever take my own life—I'm not that brave. It's more like a quiet wish to simply... disappear.
But, of course, life never lets you go that easily. So, I decided to try my luck in Hell.
I barely knew anything about the place I was going—just the basics. Nearly 200 years ago, strange locations appeared all over the world: caves, pits, and ruins that led deep underground. People called them Hell Pits. Everyone who entered vanished. People said they were cursed—until a few survivors finally returned. What they described was a world filled with death and impossible horrors.
They called it Hell, and those who returned alive were known as Hellers. Most of them awakened some kind of power. So yeah... I was going to try it. Despite the risk, it felt like the perfect place for me.
Standing here—at what might become my grave, or maybe a new beginning—I can't deny that I'm... excited? My heart pounds like a drum; my hands tremble like leaves in the wind.
What the fuck are you thinking, idiot? Excited? I don't deserve to feel nothing. I'm guilty of things I can't forgive myself for. My breath quickens; my hands shake—not from thrill, but from a cold, dizzy pulse running through my veins. It's such a strange, heavy feeling. Deep down, I feel I don't deserve to live.
But I'll put those thoughts aside for now. Even if I don't know what I want in my messed-up, tragic life, I've one clear thing—I want answers. I want to understand these feelings... myself. And maybe... I'll find them in Hell.
I was walking through the forest, following the directions given by a merchant from a nearby city called Cerveteri. The path was made of oddly arranged stones—almost artificial. I could hear a stream flowing somewhere nearby; birds chirped from the trees, and a deafening chorus of cicadas felt like needles in my ears. Honestly, it didn't look like the kind of place that would hide something as terrible as Hell.
After a while, I saw it—my destination. But I wasn't alone.
A man was standing near the entrance: navy-black hair, probably in his forties, dressed in what looked like a Roman Empire army uniform. A Hell gatekeeper.
"Are you lost, kid?" he said, stepping forward. His voice was calm, measured.
I swallowed hard. I had spent the entire walk rehearsing what I could say to convince the gatekeeper to let a kid like me enter alone—with nothing. Maybe I should just be honest. I wasn't good at reading people—especially when what I was doing bordered on madness.
Without thinking much, I said the first thing that came to mind.
"I... I want to enter Hell," I said, locking eyes with him, trying to look serious.
"What is this, a joke?" His tone wasn't cruel, but there was weight in it—enough to make me flinch.
"James sent you, didn't he?" he asked, a soft laugh escaping, trying to be... friendly?
"Look, sir... I know it's strange for someone to attempt this alone, but please—just let me through," I said, my tired eyes starting to blur.
His expression shifted, just slightly, becoming more serious.
"Actually... isn't it strange? People come here alone all the time. But you look so young, kid. Life isn't meant to be wasted this way."
I kept my head down. Most people would probably call this suicide. But it was the only way I could see to move forward.
"Do your parents even know you're here, kid?"
"I'm all alone," I muttered, staring at the ground. "I'm tired of it all."
Was it okay to tell someone how I felt?
He studied me for a moment, his green eyes flicking toward my chest.
"You're an unburned star, aren't you?"
I blinked. "Unburned star? Yeah... sure." I had no idea what he meant, but pretending I didn't understand might only make things worse.
"That's something most people who come here don't," he said, rummaging through a small shelf behind him.
We were in the middle of nowhere, just outside Rome. In front of me was the entrance to Hell—a moss-covered cave that seemed to descend endlessly into darkness. Beside us stood a wooden chair, a small table covered in papers, and a few drawers.
"Well, kid, I don't think I can stop you no matter what I say... so let's get to the point. I need your name, and you'll sign these papers. If not, no one enters Hell."
He handed me a stack of documents. I started reading.
AGREEMENT FOR HELLERS IN ROME
Be it known that the Heller, having willingly entered the depths of Hell, hereby agrees to the following terms:
1. Should the Heller succeed in escaping Hell, they shall relinquish seventy percent (70%) of all possessions, treasures, relics, and any kind of rewards obtained within.
2. The Heller shall provide any information deemed necessary by the Empire and its representatives.
3. If the Heller is a Star and awakens their powers, they promise never to use them against the Empire.
This agreement is binding upon the Heller by their own free will, under penalty of breaking the sacred trust of Hell.
Signed: ____________________´
[Name / Heller]
Date: ____________________
I frowned. Seventy percent? How generous, I thought. Most people risked their lives just to feed their families, and the Empire still took nearly three-quarters of everything. Disgusting.
"How do I sign it?" I asked, glare sharp as knives.
"Just tell me your name. I'll sign for you—I guess you don't know how to write," he said.
"I do," I replied flatly. "Whatever. Sign it for me. My name's Lio. No last name."
His eyes widened slightly in surprise. He grabbed a reed pen and dipped it into a small pot of ink.
"Suit yourself." he muttered. A couple of minutes later, he finished signing. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on me.
"By the way, you need to say it out loud—promise to uphold your agreement. A verbal pact."
I brushed a lock of brown hair from my face. "I don't get it... I mean, around 90% of people never come back. Why all this effort for a contract?"
"95%," he said sharply. "But that's none of your business. Just say it."
I exhaled slowly. "Huh? Yeah... whatever you say, sir. Can I go now?"
To my surprise, the man let out a short, dry laugh. "With that attitude, you won't last long down there. Even if you get the chance to become strong, think carefully. Otherwise—you'll die a fool."
His voice dropped to the most serious tone I'd heard from him yet. There was a pause, then he stood up and offered his hand.
"It's official then, Heller Lio. I wish you luck in your journey."
I hesitated, then shook it. "Thank you..."
"Titus," he said firmly.
"Thank you, Titus," I murmured, forcing a faint smile. After all, this might be my last conversation with another person.
After the handshake, I turned toward the cave entrance. Moss-covered rocks framed the opening. My first step echoed in the silence, then another. My hands trembled slightly as I steadied myself against the cold stone. I was standing right at the first step of a staircase, where I could see an endless path descending into the abyss. The stairs themselves looked flawless—unnaturally perfect.
"Don't die, Lio." The voice echoed through my thoughts. I turned and saw Titus watching me, his expression unreadable. I didn't respond, but deep down, I was grateful. Even if it was just duty—or guilt—someone still cared enough to warn me.
I took three steps down the stairs. Suddenly, everything started to blur—a kind of mist forming around me. I was on the stairs, my vision almost completely obscured.
In that instant, I realized something. That excitement I felt before—was a lie.
I was terrified.