Roy Shyam closed his locker and slung his bag over his shoulder, his thoughts already drifting to the peace and quiet of home. The dull chatter of students echoed down the hallway, but Roy barely registered it. As he turned to leave, Kieran was waiting near the door, his expression shadowed with unease.
"Hey, Roy," Kieran called, his tone unusually serious. "Did you hear what they said this morning? About that psycho on the loose? The cops are saying he's been spotted in another district."
Roy paused, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I heard. But that's not anywhere near where I live, so I haven't been losing sleep over it." His voice carried a note of indifference, the kind of dismissive confidence he wore like armor.
Kieran frowned, his concern lingering. "I don't know, man. Just to be safe, maybe avoid the shortcuts today. Stick to the main roads, yeah?"
Roy rolled his eyes but smirked faintly, nudging his friend on the shoulder. "Relax Bro. Your sounding like my mom now. I'll be fine—probably safer than half the paranoid people freaking out over nothing anyway."
"Roy," Kieran said, his voice firm now. "Just… humor me, alright? Take the long way. It's not like you're in a rush, right?"
Roy let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. Whatever makes you feel better." He gave a casual wave, turning toward the exit.
Kieran stayed put, still watching him. "Seriously, man. Just be careful."
Roy glanced back briefly, his smirk returning. "Yeah yeah,I'll see you tomorrow."
As the doors swung shut behind him, the setting sun painted the sky in warm hues, shadows stretching across the pavement. Roy adjusted his bag and took a deep breath, his usual shortcut through the alley calling to him.
"Take the long way, he says," Roy muttered under his breath with a scoff. "Hell nah, what's the point of wasting time?" Without another thought, he veered toward the alley, its dim path promising to shave precious minutes off his walk home.
The bell had rung an hour ago, but the streets around the school still buzzed with life. A group of kids played soccer in a nearby park, their laughter and cheers echoing faintly. Roy walked at his usual, unhurried pace, letting the late afternoon breeze tousle his hair. The sky had started to bleed into hues of orange and pink, the colors dancing on the windows of nearby buildings.
He passed a convenience store where the smell of fried snacks wafted out, momentarily tempting him to stop and grab a bite. But he shook his head, deciding against it. "Ma is going to shout at me for spending money again," he muttered to himself, clutching his bag tighter.
As he turned a corner, he noticed an elderly man struggling to load a box into his car. For a brief moment, Roy considered helping but quickly dismissed the thought. "Nah, he'll manage," he mumbled under his breath, quickening his steps. It wasn't that he didn't care—it was just easier not to get involved.
The streets grew quieter as he moved further away from the school and into the more residential areas. He caught sight of a few classmates walking in groups, their chatter filling the silence. A couple waved at him, but Roy merely nodded in acknowledgment, not slowing down.
Roy is the type to know a lot of people but not consider them as friends, he just knows them and vice versa for example formalities like greetings.
His mind drifted back to the conversation with Kieran. "Take the longer route, huh?" he muttered, glancing at the main road ahead. It wasn't that he ignored Kieran's concern—Roy just hated going out of his way for something that seemed unlikely to be a real threat. The warnings felt more like background noise than something to act on.
As the shortcut came into view, the familiar alley stretched out before him like a dark corridor between two looming buildings. Roy stopped for a moment, staring at the narrow passage. The air felt cooler here, and the shadows seemed deeper. He hesitated briefly, Kieran's words echoing in his mind.
"Don't take any shortcuts or anything, alright?"
Roy smirked to himself, shaking his head. "You worry too much," he muttered, stepping into the alley. The sound of his school shoes scuffing the pavement seemed unnaturally loud against the silence. The world around him felt heavier somehow, as if the air itself had grown thick.
But he ignored the unease and pressed on.
Roy adjusted his bag and glanced at the horizon. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out like grasping fingers. The streets were quiet now, the hum of daily life winding down into an eerie stillness. He turned into a familiar street lined with fading graffiti and broken lampposts, his usual shortcut just a block away.
A car passed by slowly, its headlights washing over him for a brief moment before disappearing into the distance. He could feel Kieran's words lingering at the back of his mind, but he brushed them off like an annoying fly. "Psycho running around," he thought, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "As if that'd happen to me."
Turning the corner, Roy's steps faltered for a moment. The alleyway stretched out before him, dim and quiet, flanked by the backs of old buildings. Trash bins overflowed with discarded waste, their contents strewn across the ground. A single, flickering light struggled to stay lit above a metal door far ahead. He hesitated for half a second, feeling a faint prickle of unease crawl up his spine.
Stop overthinking. It's just a shortcut, like always. Roy shook his head and stepped into the alley.
The sound of his school shoes scuffing against the pavement echoed faintly in the stillness. As he walked, he caught the faint sound of footsteps. At first, they blended with his own—too faint to draw concern. But then they grew louder, deliberate, and mismatched with his rhythm.
Roy glanced over his shoulder, his breath hitching. The alley behind him was empty, or at least it seemed that way. Shadows danced in the dim light, but there was no one in sight.
You're just imagining things. He shook his head, quickening his pace. The footsteps behind him quickened as well.
A chill crawled down his neck. He turned sharply, eyes darting from one corner to the next, scanning for any sign of movement. The alley remained silent, still, and devoid of life.
"Who's there?" Roy called out, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound firm. No response.
He cursed under his breath "Fuuck" and took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to run. He spun around, only to see a figure emerge from the far end of the alley.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by the low light, but the glint of an axe in his hand was unmistakable. Roy froze, his heart hammering in his chest.
The man began to walk toward him, slow and deliberate, each step echoing louder than it should.
"Hey, wait—" Roy stammered, taking a step back. "I don't want any trouble, alright?"
The man didn't answer. He raised the axe, the dim light reflecting off its surface.
Panic surged through Roy's veins.
"Shit, Shit, Shit…"
He turned and bolted, his bag slipping off his shoulder as he ran. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his legs felt like they were made of lead. The footsteps behind him quickened, the sound of heavy boots pounding against the pavement.
He didn't get far. A sharp pain exploded in the back of his knee, and he collapsed to the ground with a scream. He looked down to see that his leg that was once on him is now to his right.
He turned just in time to see the axe being lifted again.
"No! Stop!" he cried, his voice breaking.
The man brought the axe down with terrifying precision, severing Roy's arm in one swift motion. Pain unlike anything he'd ever felt consumed him, his scream echoing through the alley. Blood pooled around him, warm and sticky.
Roy screaming in agony can be heard from far yet there was no one in sight. Tears of excruciating pain and misery bleed from his eyes.
He tried to crawl away, his remaining arm clawing at the pavement, but the man was relentless. The axe came down again and again, severing his limbs one by one. The world blurred, the edges of his vision darkening as blood loss and shock took hold.
Roy's body trembled from the intense pain, his breath shallow and uneven. He stared at the evening sky above, his mind flooded with regret. Every mistake, every missed opportunity, every sin weighed on him like a crushing force.
I don't want to die.I don't want to die. Not like this.I don't want to die. I don't... I can't...
As his vision began to fade, a figure stepped into view. A woman—beautiful and otherworldly even ethereal—crouched beside him. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her violet eyes bore into his with an intensity that made his pain momentarily fade. She extended a hand, her fingers brushing his blood-streaked face with surprising gentleness.
"Do you want to live?" she asked, her voice soft and melodic, yet laced with something sinister that Roy Shyam wasn't able to sense.
Roy tried to speak, but his throat was dry, his voice barely more than a whisper. He mustered all his remaining strength, forcing the word past his trembling lips.
"I...Want…To…Live…"
The woman smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Then live you shall."
The last thing Roy saw before darkness consumed him was her smile—a smile that promised salvation and damnation all at once.
Roy floated in a vast, empty void. No pain, no sound—just an overwhelming stillness that pressed against him like a suffocating blanket. He was sure this was it. The end. His consciousness flickered, each memory slipping further from his grasp as if it were being swallowed by the darkness.
A sudden force pulled at his consciousness, His eyes snapped open, breaking him out of the void. His body jerking upright as though he'd been drowning moments before. He gasped for air, feeling the coldness of metal beneath his feet, and his senses exploded into hyper-awareness. His heart hammered against his ribs, his breath rugged and uneven.
What—?
His vision blurred as he tried to make sense of the disorienting situation. Slowly, the world around him sharpened into focus.He wasn't dead anymore. He could feel the hum of the station around him, the clanking of machinery and the soft whir of electronics. His surroundings came into view: smooth, sterile metallic walls, overhead lights casting a dim glow, and consoles blinking with faintly familiar displays. The faint vibration beneath his feet told him he was somewhere in motion.
Roy blinked rapidly, his fingers trembling as they pressed against his arms, his legs—everything intact, whole. He turned his head, taking in the sight of ESO 243-49, floating peacefully in orbit on a small monitor.
He was in a space station.
No. This isn't right.
"Is this... is this a dream?" He murmured under his breath, though the words felt hollow as soon as they left his lips.
He wasn't sure whether the space station around him was real or if he was just stuck in the aftermath of some twisted nightmare. His memories were intact—his death, his suffering, his hope and ambitions—but now, in this strange reality, it all felt like a half-formed thought, slipping away as quickly as he could grasp it.
Roy gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah. No kidding."
The comms fell silent again. Roy exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting once more to the black hole outside.
Then the thought returned—louder this time, impossible to ignore.
This isn't resurrection. This isn't a second chance at my life. It's a different life. With a different past. A different me. But I remember everything. Every scream. Every drop of blood. Every mistake.
"I've transcended death itself," he said quietly, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not by cheating it. Not by reversing it. By leaving it behind."
He slowly sat back in the chair, still gripping the console like a lifeline. The realization washed over him in waves.
The silence in the cabin was almost oppressive, broken only by the low hum of the ship's systems and the faint crackle of the comms. Roy stared out at the black hole, his mind spiraling almost as violently as the swirling void outside.
He whispered to himself, barely audible, "This... isn't just resurrection."
His eyes narrowed. No, it was something else. Something deeper. Bigger. He wasn't brought back to life. He was moved. Shifted.
"Transmigration..." he murmured again, almost in awe. "That's what I'll call it. A soul crossing the borders of fate, slipping between realities with nothing but its memories. A curse. A gift. I don't know which yet."
From the comms panel, Kieran's voice crackled through again, this time more hesitant. "Uh, Roy? Are you... talking to yourself?"
Roy blinked, suddenly aware of the words spilling out of his mouth, the way he must've looked—hunched over, whispering nonsense, staring into space. His heart jumped in his chest.
"You're kind of freaking me out, man," Kieran added, trying to keep it light but unable to hide the edge in his voice.
Roy wiped a hand over his face, trying to steady himself. "Yeah. Sorry. Just... thinking out loud," he muttered.
Kieran didn't respond right away, then: "Alright. Just... don't go losing it on me. We're already too close to the edge, literally and figuratively."