The morning began with the insistent ringing of the alarm clock, even though Astar didn't need to get up early. Almost all the preparations for his future life of freedom were complete: the business that had consumed his time and energy was nearly sold. But the habit of controlling everything down to the smallest detail was far stronger. Sunlight filtered through the partially closed blinds, casting golden stripes across the walls of his room. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed his face, and looked into the mirror.
In the reflection, he saw himself — a tall, well-groomed young man with a athletic build. His bright blue eyes contrasted sharply with his black hair, which was tied into a casual bun at the back of his head. That hair always drew attention. In the light, it shimmered with a strange purple hue, making many think he dyed it or used some unusual products. The truth was different: that shade had been his since birth, as if some mysterious genetic anomaly. This peculiarity added a certain enigmatic quality to him.
He was just over twenty, but his eyes held something distant and heavy. Years of hard work, begun out of necessity in childhood, had left their mark in his gaze, habits, and the fatigue that never left him, even after rest.
It seemed that freedom — what he had been striving for — was finally at his doorstep. Today was the day of the deal that would relieve him from the role of constant business manager. He would remain a shareholder, live off dividends, and finally feel in control of his own life.
— Alright, Astar, time to get moving… — he murmured to himself, rising from the bed.
Funny, he thought as he began to make the bed. I've worked so much that I forgot how to rest. He walked around the bed from different angles, smoothing the sheets and recalling all those long hours in the office, sleepless nights planning strategies, and the risks he had taken.
I guess it couldn't have been otherwise; I've always loved competing and outdoing my rivals. As a result, I developed workaholism, which killed that fire inside me. Maybe that's for the best…
All his life, he had believed that money equaled freedom. That once he had enough, he would find happiness. And now, after countless failures and strokes of luck, he was almost there.
He glanced at his phone, where a to-do list reminded him of upcoming meetings, even on this final day. Even in this moment, the feeling that everything had to be under control didn't leave him. Yet what irritated him most was something else: the freedom he longed for still didn't feel real.
Maybe it's me… Feels like I've spent my whole life on the wrong path, he thought. Well… once I sell the controlling stake, I'll invest it safely. Considering my other savings and assets, I could stop working for life and finally search for my purpose. I was lucky to get rich young, so I need to preserve this advantage…
Astar took a deep breath, collected his thoughts, and headed to the kitchen. This day was meant to be the beginning of a new life. He would finally live for himself. But barely had he thought that, when something strange began building in his mind—a faint noise, a whisper that gradually became an incoherent murmur, the words foreign, like the echoes of a distant choir.
Shar-daar, kudis lur…
Before Astar could comprehend it, a sharp pain pierced his head. It flashed like lightning, stabbing his temples and spreading through his skull. The world froze. His body went numb, arms hanging at his sides, legs buckling. It lasted only a moment, but it was powerful enough to almost knock him down.
— What the… — he rasped, clutching the countertop to stay upright. The voices faded as suddenly as they had appeared. The pain subsided, leaving only the faint pulsing of blood in his temples. His body obeyed him again, and after a few deep breaths, Astar smiled and reached for a delicate water pitcher.
— Didn't sleep well, huh? — he muttered as he poured a glass of warm water. — Why the hell did I even buy expensive mattresses and pillows if mornings are still like this? Ha-ha, — he laughed self-mockingly, heading to the bathroom.
Astar lived alone and had long been accustomed to being his own company. The seriousness that rooted itself deeply in his character didn't prevent him from finding ironic moments in daily life, and his sharp tongue directed at himself was as good as any seasoned joker's.
— Alright, Astar, — he said to his reflection, washing off the stiffness of sleep. — One more step and you officially become a bum. Congratulations, buddy, now you'll have plenty of time to… — he paused, thinking. — Anything, really. Go on vacation, get a dog, or even… maybe finally have a proper relationship? With all the company stuff, I even forgot about… you know.
— Although not a big loss. I never had more than one-night flings anyway… — he muttered ironically, recalling his recent relationships.
Astar smirked and turned to the shower. This habitual monologue was like a morning meditation for him. Living alone always seemed convenient—silence and no obligations toward anyone. Yet sometimes he found himself speaking aloud not just for humor, but simply to break the eternal solitude. In such moments, even his own voice felt strange.
— Alright, you only live once, — he said, turning on the water. — Tonight calls for a proper celebration. No wonder I started grinding back at the orphanage. By the way, I need to finally reply to James…
He sighed thoughtfully, stepping under the warm water. Despite his cynicism, a spark of life still burned in him—the unquenchable sense that something interesting could happen around the corner. And although he told himself he wanted peace, the part of him that loved to "fight" in a competitive world was still there. This Astar had once rushed forward, striving to escape poverty and the harsh conditions of the orphanage.
Astar quickly finished his morning routine. After showering, he applied skincare, dried his hair, and neatly tied it into a bun.
— A dog isn't a bad idea… — he said aloud, leaving the bathroom and heading to his wardrobe. — Walk it, maybe meet some beauty? I used to be good with girls… when I had free time… — he laughed, buttoning his shirt and adjusting his tie.
Looking at himself in the large mirror, he let out a strange chuckle, then shook his head:
— No, the tie's definitely unnecessary today. No need to look like I'm still in business, ha-ha.
He spun it in his hands like a toy and, unusually for him, tossed it aside. Today had to be special. He felt it, even through the faint noise in his head that remained at the edge of consciousness.
— Damn, I might finally be able to laze around? Thank you, Universe! — Astar said with a smile, as if convincing himself that this was exactly what he had always wanted.
He quickly threw on a light jacket and closed the door behind him. His footsteps echoed softly in the empty corridor as he descended to the elevator. Fingers automatically pressed the underground parking button, and he leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed.
— You know, Astar, life loves to joke, but it… it gave us a good chance, — he said, looking at his reflection in the elevator panel. — How many guys from the orphanage dreamed just of finishing school, let alone having a good apartment and car? And you, ha… you… — he smirked thoughtfully. — We were mostly lucky, but I won't belittle our own merits.
A predatory smile appeared on his face as he recalled overtaking competitors, stealing good clients, or poaching promising employees.
The elevator shuddered smoothly downward, and Astar leaned back, lost in memories. He clearly remembered his first "investment," when he spent his last savings on Bitcoin, money earned over years of part-time jobs at the orphanage. Back then it felt like roulette, but fate smiled, giving him enormous starting capital. Astar always considered it compensation from fate for his lousy parents, who abandoned him as a baby. No matter how hard he tried, resentment and even anger always lingered.
Sometimes he wondered who they were, but he always stopped himself. They abandoned him — so he didn't need them.
— Maybe I should thank the Universe somehow, — he continued, leaving the elevator and heading toward his car. — A fund for orphans? Or a dog shelter? I don't even need this much money; I don't know yet what I'll do…
His steps grew confident when he saw his brand-new car. The glossy surface reflected the dim light of the underground lamps, inviting him to feel the moment when all efforts pay off. Black body, sleek lines, red brake calipers — every inch embodied his success.
— Damn, you're a beauty, — Astar grinned at the car. — Don't know who's cooler: me or you. Well, probably me. You don't know what it's like to work since childhood.
He opened the door, inhaled the scent of new leather, whispering: "You did everything right." Sitting down, he ran his hand over the steering wheel, feeling the soft material. He started the engine, and a low hum filled the parking lot.
— Beautiful sound, — he said, fastening his seatbelt. — Alright, let's go. Today your owner officially gains freedom. Or at least pretends to, ha-ha.
Speed, power, and control — the car mirrored perfectly what he strived for in life. Astar merged into the city traffic, still reflecting on how lucky he had been.
— I'm grateful, fate, — he whispered. — I don't know how many more chances you'll throw my way, but I'm ready for all of them. Just let the next one be about my calling, ha-ha.
He smoothly turned onto the broad avenue, where glass skyscrapers reflected the morning sun into thousands of sparkling points. The car blended effortlessly with the stream of luxury vehicles. He checked his GPS, setting the route to one of the city's most prestigious skyscrapers, packed with offices, including his own.
— Last visit to familiar walls, — he murmured, pressing the gas lightly. — Grab the folders, sign the papers, and finally escape this rat race.
Astar loved competition, but corporate life seemed to be consuming him. The more he worked, the clearer it became that he was doing something he didn't want. Living a life he didn't like.
The traffic light turned green, and he drove confidently, observing the streets. The route was familiar, even routine, but this time he noticed every detail: colorful café signs, billboards, bright shop windows. In a sense, all of this was part of his success — his company, among many others, had built marketing strategies that brought the city to life.
— Marketing, — he said with a thoughtful smile, — the art of convincing people to buy what they don't need… And sometimes, what they need more than they realize.
He chuckled, recalling dozens of projects that turned his startup into a full-fledged company. In this world, being smart wasn't enough — you had to be a predator. He remembered ruthlessly downsizing, closing inefficient departments, and rejecting risky but promising clients. All of it hardened him, dulling curiosity and adventure.
— No wonder I named you "Labyrinth," — he said to his creation. — Business truly is a maze. One wrong move and you're stuck, or worse… you lose everything.
Astar focused on the road, enjoying the smooth handling of the car. Deep down, he knew it wasn't just effort and composure that led him to success. Luck had been his constant companion since that first cryptocurrency investment, giving him the massive capital to launch several projects, the third finally turning profitable.
— Think you're special, a genius? No, Astar, you were just lucky, — he said, shaking his head. — But… luck without action and work goes to waste. I gave everything to make this work.
He knew he wasn't a genius marketer or even a top-tier professional. But he knew how to hire the right people, take risks, and make tough decisions.
The skyscraper ahead made him sigh. Soon he would be in the main office — the building where every door held memories of challenges, late-night meetings, and strategic victories. Faces of former colleagues surfaced. Some had left, some stayed. Did they feel the same lost fire as he did? Or regret for what they sacrificed for success?
— Probably no better than me, — he muttered, turning on the turn signal to enter the parking area. — Cold, calculating… but almost free.
He parked in his usual spot and turned off the engine. The hum faded, but the echo of his thoughts lingered. This day might be the most important of his life.
Just as he was about to open the car door, his phone lit up, showing the caller. For a moment, he frowned, then, seeing a familiar name, couldn't help but smile.
— James, — he murmured, answering. — Something important? I'm a bit busy.
— Astaroo-oss! — came the cheerful voice, stretching his name playfully. — Decided not to pick up from your only friend? Or are you so important you forget your roots? Ignoring me for a whole month!
Astar rolled his eyes, sighed heavily.
— I told you not to call me that, — he said, irritated but controlled.
— Why not? — James continued innocently. — It's your full name, remember? "Astaros" — that's how it was written on the slip when they found you and sent you to that lousy orphanage. You should be proud, buddy! Such a unique name!
— Unique? — Astar gripped the phone tighter than necessary. — It sounds ridiculous, James. I'm trying to forget it, and you keep reminding me.
— Come on, — James clearly enjoying teasing him. — Not my fault you're hot-headed. Anyway, Astaros sounds cool! I heard something similar in a game once!
— Exactly, — Astar muttered, getting out of the car and closing the door. His voice quieted, tinged with slight irritation. — Guess my damn parents not only threw me away, but also had a laugh at it.
— Sorry, buddy, — James' voice softened, still playful. — Didn't mean to upset you. Just wanted to remind you that you built yourself, and your useless parents couldn't ruin your life, not even with their genes.
Astar stopped at the elevator, looking at the metallic doors. He wanted to reply sharply, but then laughed.
— You watching philosophy videos again? — he said after a pause. — Not your style. Stop it.
— I know, I know. Too pompous for our esteemed marketer, — James interjected cheerfully. — So, how's your mood? Ready to finally get rid of your creation? You didn't pick up because you were busy preparing for this day?
— Ready, — Astar replied shortly, staring at his reflection in the polished elevator surface. — But it's harder than I thought…
— Of course it is, — James' voice confident. — You built this company like a fortress. You were both architect and chief mason. But Astar, if you don't let it go, you'll stay in that fortress until the walls crumble themselves. All these years, you only had one-night flings, and I was your only real friend. Time to live, not just work.
Astar smirked, pressing the elevator button.
— Should I thank you or the ancient philosophers you read online? Maybe you should start a business giving free advice?
— Maybe I will, if you invest in my startup, ha-ha, — James replied. — Anyway, good luck. And remember, tonight you owe me a drink! I won't let you celebrate alone!
— I know, James. Thanks, — Astar said quietly before the call ended.
The elevator opened smoothly, and he stepped inside, preparing for the last visit to the office that had once been his whole world.
The doors closed gently behind him, immersing him in the solitude he always found pleasant in these brief moments between floors. The space filled with the soft hum of the cabin, and his gaze fixed on his reflection in the polished panels.
— Alright, the great day has come, — he murmured, relaxing his shoulders. — Sign everything, hand it over… and live for myself. Sounds great, but still feels heavy inside.
The elevator slowed down, revealing a long corridor leading to his office. He paused for a few seconds before stepping out. The voices didn't return, but a faint tension lingered, a reminder of the recent strange incident.
Astar stepped into the corridor, the cold air from the AC brushing against his skin. Sunlight refracted through the huge glass panels, bathing the space in soft light. A modern, stylish office reflected every facet of his success.
Through the glass, employees sat at their monitors, some focused on work, others discussing matters animatedly. When they noticed him, conversations fell silent, smiles appearing on faces. Some stood to nod respectfully, while others waved their hands.
"Good morning, Mr. Arden!" — smiled a young woman in a sharp suit as she passed by.
"Morning," he replied with a controlled nod, forcing a faint, friendly smile onto his face.
He had taken this surname after leaving the orphanage; more precisely, it had been assigned to him by the relevant government authorities. Astar preferred being called by his first name, but in an office environment, he didn't mind such formalities.
No sooner had he taken a few more steps than an older man in an expensive suit appeared from around the corner. He paused, bowed slightly, and said with deliberate politeness:
"We'll miss you, Mr. Arden. You're the best manager I've ever worked with."
"Thank you, Klein. I'll miss you too," he answered in a soft, friendly tone, capable of deceiving anyone.
But in Astar's mind, it sounded completely different.
"Miss me? Do you even believe that yourself? We're all here for money… And if you go to the root of it, we all want freedom, and money is just a tool. This politeness… it's just a game, the rules of which everyone in this building knows. And we both know I'm not the best manager. I'm good for the company, but not always good for people."
He continued down the corridor, occasionally stopping to respond to another warm greeting or accept a compliment.
"You've been an inspiration to all of us, Mr. Arden," said one of the employees, interrupting his steps.
"Glad to hear that a young boss like me didn't intimidate you," he replied self-deprecatingly. "I'm sure you have a great future ahead!" he added with praise.
"A great future? If only you can withstand sleepless nights and constantly choose between your career and your life. Otherwise, you'll just blend in like most… To survive tough competition, you need character."
His smile remained fixed, like a mask. He knew it didn't take much effort, as these people were his team — albeit a temporary one. But the falseness of the situation made him feel almost physically nauseous.
It wasn't that he disliked these people; on the contrary, many were very pleasant. He was simply tired of the essence of it all. There was no fire driving him to achievements, no desire to deal with marketing.
After selling the company, he didn't plan to live lavishly. He simply wanted a calm, dignified, and well-provided life. And, above all, free! He already had a large apartment and a decent car. Savings in crypto and securities would allow him to live without working, even after taxes. All that remained was self-discovery — a luxury he had never known from birth.
"We're all here for money. They flatter me because they know I'm leaving behind a successful brand. They hope the new owner will be like me or better. All this is business ritual, hypocrisy in its finest form. Too bad we all have to smile and play along with these rules."
"Is it the people's problem, or the system's? Everyone dislikes this state of affairs, but absurdly, it works. Even this fake corporate culture somehow boosts the company's revenue…" he reflected, remembering the times he had spent a fortune on consultants who helped him build a unique culture inside the company.
Reaching his office door, Astar paused for a moment. He looked back, taking in the bright corridor and the smiling faces behind the glass. Then his lips curved into a professional smile again, and his fingers confidently turned the door handle.
With the click of the door, Astar seemed to switch instantly into work mode, fully focused on business.
The day passed so quickly that he barely noticed the hands of the clock leap from morning to lunch, then toward evening. He barely poured himself a cup of coffee when partners began arriving — the very people with whom he would sign the final documents.
The discussion was short and businesslike. He had conducted dozens, if not hundreds, of such meetings throughout his career, so everything followed a familiar pattern: greetings, discussion of key points, and then the ritual handshake for signing. The papers lay on the table, their rustle almost meditative.
The final touch, the last signature — and that was it. He was no longer the owner.
Astar leaned back in his chair, watching the partners smile and nod, showering him with thanks.
"You're leaving a true legacy, Mr. Arden. A small startup grew to such heights thanks to your leadership."
"We'll do everything to continue your line and strengthen the brand even further," another added.
Astar responded with a restrained smile and the standard words: "I'm sure you'll manage." Inside, however, there was a strange emptiness he couldn't explain.
When all the formalities were over, the partners finally left, leaving him alone. He looked around his office, slowly gathering his things. A few framed photos, some personal notebooks, and a handful of souvenirs went into his bag. He didn't need much — most memories were already in his head.
Finally, he closed the bag, picked it up, and headed for the door. As soon as he left the office, loud applause echoed through the space. Employees lined up in two rows, smiling, clapping, and shouting:
"Thank you, Mr. Arden! We'll miss you!"
"Good luck! Can't wait to see what projects you'll launch next!"
"You'll always be an example to us!"
He smiled, responded to each, nodded, and thanked them amid their cheers.
But inside, it all felt alien.
"Applause, cheers… how many of them are sincere? Most are just glad they have a new boss. Some might truly be grateful. I don't have the strength for this anymore… Luckily, I'm no longer part of the show."
He didn't finish the thought. He simply took a deep breath and walked toward the exit, accompanied until the last moment by noise and words of gratitude.
Once outside, the office clamor was replaced by the city's sounds. Streetlights were beginning to glow, and a soft twilight wrapped the metropolis.
Astar paused, glancing back at the building where he had spent several years of his life. He felt a strange calm, despite the slight sadness weighing on his soul.
"Well, that's it," he muttered under his breath, smiling. "Time to start living, now that I'm finally free."
He got into his car, started the engine, and listened to the familiar hum that always soothed him. He tossed his bag onto the passenger seat, checked the time on his phone, and immediately opened a message.
"James, I'm running a bit late. Are you still at the pub?" he whispered, recording a voice message.
The reply came almost instantly:
"Of course. Where else would I be? Waiting for you in your new role as a free man!"
Astar smirked, put the phone in the holder, and drove onto the road. The pub, called "Wunderbar," was far from the most prestigious spot. Located on the outskirts, with wooden tables showing signs of age and dim lighting, it still seemed perfect to him. It was noisy but cozy, and nobody played the eternal game of "look better than you are."
The car glided softly along the city streets. The light from advertisement screens danced on glass facades, while crowds bustled along the sidewalks. Astar seemed to watch everything with mild detachment.
"So now I'm one of those who just enjoy life?" he murmured. "Now to figure out what actually brings me pleasure…"
The road to the pub was familiar; he'd driven it many times with James when they were young, discussing everything from startup ideas to which TV show was better.
"Free atmosphere," he smirked, recalling James once saying, "This place smells like freedom, beer, and beautiful girls."
Parking in front of the familiar sign, a warm feeling flickered in his chest. Inside, he immediately smelled that comforting scent: a mix of wood, malt, and something spicy, likely from the kitchen.
In the far corner, at a secluded table, sat James, already chatting with two girls. He was tall, a green-eyed brunette, always popular with women. He waved as soon as he saw Astar and grinned widely.
"Well, our great Astar, officially a free man now?" he exclaimed, moving a chair for his friend.
"You mean unemployed?" Astar joked, sitting down.
"No, no, free! Here — this is for you," James handed him a beer mug. "To the new chapter of your life. Come on, tell me how it went?"
Astar took the mug and smiled at the girls, seemingly ignoring his friend.
"Better introduce me to these beauties first," he replied with a grin. "Who knows, maybe I'll find love today too. Haha," Astar said flirtatiously, winking at the girls.
Though Astar hadn't had serious relationships due to constant work, he was still, like his friend, skilled with the opposite sex. Before he started disappearing into the office all the time, he and James often met new people together.
James laughed loudly, slapping Astar on the shoulder.
"Well, girls, did you hear? My friend is officially free, and now he's accepting applications for a wife!" he said, raising his mug.
The girls laughed, glancing at Astar appraisingly. One, a brunette with deep brown eyes, leaned closer:
"So you're the great Astar we've heard about?"
"And what exactly did this joker tell you?" Astar replied with a smile, nodding toward James.
"That you're rich, successful, free, and maybe a bit modest," she smirked.
"But about the last part, we're still skeptical," added the other, a blonde with cute freckles, and they all laughed again.
The evening took on new colors. Mugs were refilled, jokes flew, and the conversation grew lively. Astar, as if shaking off a weight, laughed, joked, and flirted. The pub's atmosphere was so relaxed that he even forgot, for a moment, all his worries.
Occasionally, the headache and strange voices in his mind returned, but Astar tried to ignore them and simply kept drinking.
Near midnight, James disappeared with one of the girls, leaving Astar at the table with the brunette. She seemed smart and interesting, her infectious laughter awakening something long forgotten within him.
"I can walk you home if you want," she offered, tilting her head and looking into his deep brown eyes.
Astar smiled but shook his head.
"You're wonderful, but tonight I need to be alone. This day… it was strange… Tired, so many emotions, and a headache all day. Shall we meet tomorrow? I'm sure for a proper date we can find something more romantic than this pub."
She frowned slightly but then nodded with a knowing smile.
"Okay. See you tomorrow. Just don't forget to message me, or I'll think you ran off."
"I won't run, I promise," he said, getting up and escorting her to the exit.
After she got into a taxi, Astar called a private driver for himself. He was still drunk and didn't want to drive. He was finally free and didn't want to get into a ridiculous accident. Inside, he felt a strange mix of calm and fatigue, as if this evening marked the start of something new.
Astar quickly returned to his apartment in a prestigious city district. Spacious rooms with minimalist decor greeted him in silence, the soft hum of the air conditioner filling the space. He went straight to the shower to wash off the day's fatigue and the smell of the pub. Warm water relaxed him pleasantly, and for a moment he felt completely detached from all worries.
After drying off with a fluffy white towel, he changed into fresh pajamas — white, soft, almost new. He had always liked how such clothing felt on the body after a shower, as if it symbolized a clean slate.
In the bathroom mirror, Astar slowly applied night cream, spreading it over his face with habitual movements.
"Tomorrow I'll wake up a new person," he murmured, looking at his reflection. "No nerves, no constant race… I've finally earned what I've always wanted — freedom! Ha-ha…" he muttered, still under the influence of alcohol.
But then something changed sharply!
It was as if lightning struck his temples. A terrible headache pierced his skull, forcing him to clutch the sink to keep from losing balance.
"Gah! Damn…" he cried, breathing heavily.
And then it happened again. The strange voices he had heard before became distinct, loud, as if someone was standing right next to him, speaking in a foreign, incomprehensible language.
"Karahart… Shardur…"
His head spun, as if he had suddenly been placed on a carousel spinning at insane speed. Weakness washed over him in waves, and for a second he felt he might lose consciousness.
"What the hell is this?!" he shouted, looking at his face in the mirror, only to see, to his horror, his body glowing. It was not only an auditory but also a visual hallucination!
Frightened, he reached for the phone on the shelf beside the sink. His fingers trembled as he unlocked the screen.
"James," he exhaled, opening his contact list. "You always say you know everything… Explain what the hell this is?"
But before he could press the call button, everything stopped. The voices disappeared, and the pain receded, leaving only a heaviness in his head. Astar collapsed on the edge of the bathtub, phone still in hand, unable to call James.
"It's just exhaustion," he tried to calm himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "No… I need to call emergency services. I need… damn it!"
But he didn't get the chance. Suddenly, everything before his eyes began to blur, as if a thick fog enveloped his mind. Astar felt himself losing control of his body. Sounds muffled, colors dimmed, and everything around him descended into ominous darkness.
"No… not this…" he whispered, feeling his strength finally drain. The hand holding the phone slipped across his lap, staring at the screen still glowing with James's name.
"The biggest joke of my life," a thought flashed. "Today, when I'm finally free…"
He struggled, trying to hold onto reality, but darkness pulled him down like an inevitable current. Only a brief, almost bitter chuckle escaped his throat.
"And what's the point… Did I waste my life?" he murmured before all was swallowed by complete silence.
Darkness enveloped his mind, leaving behind the light of the bathroom, the hum of the air conditioner, and the scent of night cream. Yet in this silent void, there was no end. Deep within his consciousness, something flickered like a tiny spark, bright but cold. The voices he had previously heard returned with unbearable force, as if screaming directly into his ears. He felt something strange happening in his forehead.
Something horrific and incomprehensible was about to happen! But at the last moment, for some inexplicable reason, he suddenly understood the meaning of the last phrase he had heard…
And it said:
"The power of the Multiverse Memory Book has run out. You can no longer remain safe… Forgive us, son. We hope you can learn the truth about…" — the phrase cut off, as did Astar's consciousness.