---
Drip... drip... drip...
The sound of rain was the only thing keeping the dead world alive.
The sky poured its fury down upon the shattered earth,
heavy drops striking the broken pavement,
mixing with the blood that painted red veins across the city's corpse.
And in the midst of it all—
a boy, or perhaps a man, walked alone.
In his hand, a bloodstained sword glimmered dully beneath the rain.
Each step echoed softly, blending with the rhythm of the storm,
as if the rain itself had learned to walk beside him.
He lifted his head slowly, gazing at the sky—
a gray, ugly, lifeless sky.
And yet... to him, it was beautiful.
Something about that color comforted him.
Maybe because it matched the color inside his heart.
He lowered his gaze and kept walking,
until his reflection shimmered in a shallow puddle.
He looked down.
What he saw wasn't human.
A strange, fractured beauty stared back at him—
half of his hair silver like moonlight,
the other half white as frost.
His right eye was gray and lifeless, colder than steel.
His left eye burned crimson, glowing like molten lava—
but there was no warmth in it, only emptiness.
He whispered, his voice hoarse and hollow,
half cold... half broken.
> "Ah... what have I become?"
Another raindrop fell into the puddle,
and his reflection shattered into ripples.
---
A faint buzzing filled the air.
A hand reached from under a blanket and silenced an alarm.
Then—silence again, followed by a heavy sigh.
A young man lay in a small, dimly lit room.
He opened his tired brown eyes,
staring at the ceiling for a long moment before muttering:
> "The same nightmare... again?"
He sat up slowly, his body feeling heavier than it should.
Moving toward the closet, he pulled out a plain black jacket and dark pants.
The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air—cool, distant—
but it couldn't mask the sadness that clung to the house.
Descending the stairs, each creak sounded too loud in the silence.
Even the clock ticking on the wall seemed hesitant,
as if time itself didn't want to exist here.
He prepared a simple breakfast: fried eggs and a small steak.
The sizzling sound filled the kitchen,
and the smell of slightly burnt meat spread through the air.
He ate slowly, barely tasting any of it.
When he glanced out the window, the sun was shining bright.
So, he left his umbrella behind.
He put on his shoes and stepped outside.
The morning air was gentle,
but he barely noticed its touch on his skin.
He walked toward school, each step slower than the last.
When he arrived, he went straight to his favorite seat—by the window, in the last row.
No one ever sat beside him.
But this time, a boy tried to—
only for his friend to grab him and whisper, not quietly enough:
> "Don't sit next to him! That's the guy whose whole family died...
They say he's the one who killed them."
Leo turned his head slightly.
His eyes carried a mix of amusement and quiet sadness.
He sighed, then looked back at the board,
pretending not to care.
When school ended, he packed his things quickly and headed for the door.
But as soon as he stepped outside, he froze—
the rain had returned, pouring harder than ever.
Behind him, voices of laughter echoed:
> "Ugh, good thing I checked the weather! Brought my umbrella!"
"Really? Mind sharing?"
"Of course not!"
Leo watched them with his usual empty gaze.
He sighed once, softly, and walked into the rain.
No umbrella. No protection.
Only his soaked uniform and the cold against his skin.
The drops struck his face, sharp and icy.
And somehow... he smiled faintly.
> "Such a gray day... beautiful."
He whispered,
> "It's just like the dream…"
Then, a sudden pain shot through his head.
He grabbed it, wincing,
but just as quickly—the pain vanished.
> "Ah... again."
He resumed his slow walk home.
The streets were quiet except for the rain.
When he reached his house, he opened the door quietly.
> "I'm home," he said.
Of course, no one answered.
He didn't expect anyone to.
He slipped off his shoes and climbed the stairs.
His steps echoed faintly in the empty house.
He picked out fresh clothes, entered the bathroom,
and let the warm water of the shower hit his skin.
Steam filled the room, blurring the mirror completely.
Afterward, he wore a gray pajama,
sat down at his desk, and turned on his computer.
Click... whir...
The blue light filled the small, quiet room.
He opened a single game —
the only one left installed.
"Broken Fate." 💔