I died once.
The world that waited for me was colder than death.
Not the kind of cold that bites the skin—
but the kind that seeps into your bones and waits.
The forest was silent. No insects. No wind.
Even the leaves seemed afraid to move.
Only my footsteps broke the stillness.
And my breathing.
Uneven. Panicked.
I didn't know where I was.
I didn't know how I got here.
One moment there had been pain—
metal, screaming tires, the taste of iron in my mouth—
And then—
Trees.
Darkness.
A sky I didn't recognize.
I walked because standing still felt like dying again.
Then I heard it.
Grrr—
Low. Close.
My body froze before my mind understood.
Slowly, I looked left.
Nothing.
Right.
Nothing.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
I almost relaxed.
Then instinct screamed.
Behind you.
I didn't turn around.
I ran.
Branches tore at my clothes. Thorns scratched my arms. My lungs burned within seconds, as if this body wasn't used to fear yet.
"I don't want to die," I muttered.
The words came out raw.
"Not again."
The growl grew louder.
Closer.
Something heavy moved through the underbrush with terrifying ease.
It wasn't hunting carefully.
It was chasing.
Like it already owned the night.
My foot caught on a root.
I fell hard, the air knocked from my lungs.
Before I could push myself up—
Weight.
Massive.
Crushing.
Something slammed onto my back.
Fangs pierced through flesh.
White pain exploded behind my eyes.
Not the first time something sharp had entered my body.
But this pain was alive.
"AAAGH—!"
My scream shattered the silence—
And something answered.
"DOOM!"
Light tore across the forest.
The weight vanished.
The pressure lifted.
I rolled onto my side, vision swimming—
And saw her.
A girl stood a few meters away, staff raised casually in one hand.
Silver hair spilled from beneath a deep blue witch's hat, catching the faint light like threads of moonlight. Her robes—blue and white, trimmed in gold—moved as if the air itself obeyed her.
Her eyes were calm.
Too calm for someone facing a monster twice her size.
The creature lay several meters away, smoke rising from its charred fur.
Red eyes still glowing.
Still alive.
"…Are you alright?" she asked.
Her voice carried no panic. Only assessment.
More growls answered for me.
From between the trees, shapes emerged.
Larger than wolves.
Longer limbs. Twisted frames. Fur matted and dark.
Their eyes burned red—not like animals.
Like hunger with thought behind it.
Nightbound Beasts.
I didn't know how I knew the name.
But the word formed in my mind like a memory that wasn't mine.
The girl lifted her staff again.
The air tightened.
"Run," she said.
Not urgently.
Not dramatically.
Just fact.
"If you still want to live."
Light erupted from the tip of her staff.
The night split open.
The first beast was thrown back.
The second howled.
The third kept coming.
Magic.
Monsters.
A world that ran on rules I didn't understand.
And me—
Bleeding.
Useless.
I ran.
I left her there.
Left the girl who saved me.
Coward.
The word followed me between the trees.
But fear ran faster.
I didn't look back.
Because I was afraid that if I saw her fall—
I would remember another body on the road.
Another moment where I couldn't move.
Another time where I survived and someone else didn't.
The forest thinned.
And then—
Light.
A small house built into the side of a hill. Warm yellow glow leaking from its windows.
Salvation.
I stumbled toward it.
"STOP."
The voice was heavy enough to halt my body mid-step.
An old man stood in the doorway.
Bald head half-covered by a worn straw hat. Deep lines carved into his face like old battle scars.
His dark eyes studied me.
Not kindly.
In his hand—
A short spear.
Steady.
Aimed at my heart.
"Don't come closer," he said flatly.
"P-please—" I gasped. "Something's chasing me—wolves—"
"Not wolves."
His reply was immediate.
Sharp.
He stepped forward slightly, nostrils flaring.
"Nightbound Beasts."
My stomach dropped.
"The smell's still on you."
He didn't lower the spear.
"Where did you come from?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not."
The words came out desperate.
Because they were true.
He circled slightly, eyes landing on my back.
"Fresh bite."
Silence stretched.
"If I close this door," he said calmly,
"you die."
"Yes."
No point pretending.
"Then why should I open it?"
The question cut deeper than the spear.
Why should anyone save me?
I swallowed.
"…Because I don't want to die."
My voice cracked.
"Not again."
His gaze sharpened.
He didn't understand the words—
But he understood the weight behind them.
"Hands up."
I obeyed.
He approached cautiously, inspecting me with the precision of someone who had killed before.
"You're human," he muttered.
A pause.
"Or still close enough."
The door opened.
"Inside. Slowly."
The moment I crossed the threshold—
The door slammed shut behind me.
The night disappeared.
My legs gave out instantly.
The body I had forced forward finally surrendered.
I collapsed onto the wooden floor, shaking.
Safe.
For now.
But my chest wouldn't believe it.
Because safety—
had always come right before something worse.
From above me, the old man sighed.
"If you faint here, I'll drag you back outside."
But he still lifted me.
Strong.
Careful.
As if I weighed nothing.
"My name is Johan Ravencroft," he said.
"If you bring trouble to this house, I'll know."
His eyes locked onto mine.
"Your name?"
I hesitated.
That name belonged to someone who died.
Someone weak.
Someone who couldn't save—
"Oi."
I forced it out.
"Vein."
A pause.
"Vein Alteir."
He held my gaze a moment longer.
"Hm."
He raised one hand.
Green light formed between his fingers.
Soft.
Warm.
Like morning sunlight through closed eyelids.
The pain in my back dulled.
Not gone.
But distant.
"Rest," Johan said.
"We talk tomorrow."
His eyes lingered.
"If you're still alive."
The door to the small room closed.
Silence settled again.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling.
The first time I died—
I couldn't move.
The second time—
I ran.
I didn't know yet—
which one would hurt more.
—
Morning arrived without warmth.
Mist hovered low above the fields outside Johan's house, thin and pale like something that hadn't fully decided to exist. The air carried the quiet weight of dawn — not peaceful, not cruel. Just watchful.
Johan was already there when I stepped outside.
He stood with his back to the field, hands behind him. No greeting. No expression.
"Now," he said.
"Tell me the truth."
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
I swallowed.
"I'm not from this world."
Silence.
"I died," I added. "Somewhere else."
The words felt absurd once they escaped my mouth — fragile, like they could shatter if the wind blew too hard.
Johan didn't react.
Didn't blink.
"How?" he asked.
A simple question.
My mind answered before I could stop it.
Headlights.
Metal folding in on itself.
The sound of something breaking that shouldn't break.
My fingers twitched.
"…I don't want to talk about it."
"You understand," Johan said calmly, "that speaking like that could cost you your life here?"
"Yes."
"Then why speak?"
Because I was tired.
Because lying required strength I no longer had.
"Because I don't know how to lie about dying."
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of damp soil.
Johan studied me the way a craftsman studies a cracked blade — not judging, just measuring.
"Do you have family?" he asked.
The question struck deeper than expected.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Some things aren't forgotten.
They're sealed.
"…It doesn't matter," I said quietly.
Johan's gaze lingered.
Then—
"Stay where you are."
Fire ignited in his palm.
Not wild. Not chaotic.
Controlled.
Orange flames coiled around his fingers like something obedient and precise.
My body reacted before my thoughts did.
"Johan—?"
The fire expanded.
And in the next instant—
It swallowed me.
Heat enveloped my skin.
My lungs.
My vision.
I dropped to my knees.
It wasn't the kind of fire that burns flesh first.
It burned memory.
The smell of smoke.
The metallic taste in the air.
The feeling of impact.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE AGAIN!"
The words tore out of me before I realized I was screaming.
"I ALREADY—"
My voice fractured.
"I ALREADY DID!"
The field vanished.
The mist vanished.
I was somewhere else.
On asphalt.
Inside twisted metal.
Listening to my own breath fade.
Water crashed down.
The flames vanished in a single violent hiss.
Steam rose around me.
I collapsed forward, shaking.
My skin wasn't charred.
My clothes weren't burned.
But my body remembered.
For several seconds, I couldn't tell if I was breathing.
Johan approached without hurry.
"You didn't gather mana," he said.
I stared at the ground.
"I don't even know how."
He crouched beside me.
"When people born in this world are burned," he continued evenly, "their instinct is to reach inward. To draw mana. To fight back."
His eyes met mine.
"You didn't."
Because I couldn't.
Because when fire touched me—
I didn't think about fighting.
I thought about ending.
"You froze," Johan said quietly.
"Like someone who has already accepted death once."
The words felt heavier than the flames had.
He placed his palm against my back.
Green light bloomed between us.
Warm.
Steady.
Not aggressive.
The trembling eased.
Slowly.
"Basic healing," he murmured. "Surface damage only. Your nerves are in shock."
That explained the distance in my limbs.
As if they belonged to someone else.
"Troublesome," he muttered under his breath.
But he didn't step away.
Instead, he slid one arm beneath my shoulder and lifted me with surprising strength.
"Hold on."
I tried.
My vision blurred at the edges.
"Pak Johan…" I whispered.
"Hm?"
"…Sorry."
For surviving.
For bringing danger.
For not being whole.
He didn't answer.
The sky above dissolved into pale white.
The last thing I felt—
was warmth on my back.
Not the violent heat of fire.
But something steadier.
Something that didn't hurt.
And then—
Darkness took me again.