"Did I fall asleep at work again?" Nazari muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as a long yawn escaped him. He stretched his arms, the stiffness in his muscles pulling against him, his body heavy and unwilling.

The office around him was drenched in a ghostly silence. The only light came from the faint glow of his monitor, and the ticking of the wall clock echoed in the emptiness. It was 10:30 in the evening.

"Looks like everyone’s gone...," he murmured, sinking back into his swivel chair. "Once again, I'm the last to leave."

Minutes passed, and still, Nazari remained slumped in his seat. The thought of going home didn’t stir him. His colleagues rushed to escape the office, but for him, it made no difference. The same suffocating stillness awaited him at home, too.

He exhaled softly. A single second stretched into an eternity, each moment crawling like the slow passage of ancient, forgotten eons.

"Since when did I start living like this?" Nazari wondered, his thoughts sinking into the murky depths of his mind. He couldn’t recall a moment of change. "Maybe... I’ve always lived this way."

Out of 8,760 hours in a year, he only felt okay for mere minutes—fleeting moments that passed as quickly as they came.

It wasn’t joy. He couldn’t remember what joy even felt like. No, it was just a dull, fleeting sense of being okay, nothing more.

It felt as though his brain was programmed to flood him with cortisol, pumping stress into his veins, while withholding the things he desperately needed—serotonin, dopamine, the simple chemicals that could make life bearable.

Most days, his heart weighed heavy, dragging him down like an anchor, where even in dreams there was no refuge.

It had been this way ever since he gained awareness as a child. The void inside him never seemed to fade, and the pain—it was a constant companion, like a blade buried deep in his chest, impossible to remove.

"Why is it so hard for me to feel anything good?"

Nazari felt like a spectator in his own life, as though he were sitting alone in the middle of a vast, empty theater, watching a movie he couldn’t connect to. He had no desire to approach anyone, nor did he want to be approached. He simply existed, observing from a distance, untouched.

"I do nothing, yet I’m always exhausted... I don’t even know why I keep going."

And yet, despite everything, a quiet irony lingered in his thoughts. He still wanted, at the very least, to live a decent life. To endure, until the day his screen finally went black.

Sometimes, he wondered what it would feel like to have a family, to have someone to care for, to protect. But he never allowed himself to grasp at that fragile hope, never dared to expect anything.

"Why am I here again?" Nazari muttered to himself, his voice tinged with confusion.

After leaving the office, he had wandered aimlessly, only to find himself in the same place as always—the town park. His feet had carried him without thought, halting at the same bench near the flickering light post.

He sighed and sat down, his body heavy with a familiar weariness. The bench creaked beneath him, as if recognizing his presence. It was always the same spot, the same place where he sat night after night. And though no one ever joined him, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that the space beside him belonged to someone else—someone he had yet to meet, or perhaps never would.

Nazari knew no one, no acquaintances to speak to, no connections to tether him to this world. Yet, somehow, sitting here brought him a strange comfort. The flickering light above him seemed to mirror his own fragile existence, and for a brief moment, the dull ache in his heart eased, for just a little.

The soft sounds of the night in the park allowed Nazari a brief reprieve, a fleeting moment to forget everything—his life, his loneliness, his exhaustion. For just a little while, he could stop himself from overthinking.

But it wasn’t long before his solitude was interrupted. Two small figures approached him cautiously.

“M-Mister, do you have any food to spare?” the older child asked, his voice trembling. The smaller one clung to his brother, shaking as he hid behind him, clutching a bunch of purple asters in his tiny hands.

Nazari’s eyes flicked over them. Their knees and palms were scraped and bruised, dirt clinging to their skin. They looked ragged, worn by the street, yet the older brother’s gaze remained sharp, cautious, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

"They’re siblings... abandoned, maybe running from someone," Nazari thought while looking at them.

Nazari had noticed them before they approached, the soft shuffle of their feet giving away their hiding spot by the playground slides. They must have been watching him, waiting to make sure he wasn’t a threat before finally coming forward.

"Unfortunately, I can’t give you anything," Nazari replied, his voice flat and detached, despite hearing the loud growl from their empty stomachs.

The little one’s eyes darkened, on the verge of tears.

"Listen, kid," Nazari said, his tone a little harsher than he intended. "You’ve asked the wrong person. How could I give you something when I’m barely surviving myself?"

Each day for Nazari was a constant battle to afford even the basics. Food was scarce, and with inflation rising, it felt like life was slipping further out of reach. New clothes were out of the question, and things like chocolate or a cold beer were luxuries he hadn’t tasted in a long time. He was thankful he rarely got sick—just one checkup or a round of medication could wipe out half of what little he earned each month.

And yet, I’ve stayed in this low-paying job... I have no one to blame but myself.

"Kids, go to a shelter. At least there, you can get some food in your belly. One day, maybe you’ll be able to afford a meal for yourselves."

The older brother only nodded, his eyes downcast, preparing to leave. As they turned to go, Nazari noticed the way their bodies trembled, shivering with each gust of wind.

"Wait," he called out softly. He hesitated, then shrugged off the only coat he had. "Cover yourselves with this."

‘It’s a cold night, and they’re wearing such thin clothes.’ Nazari thought bitterly. ‘Their parents must have been real pieces of sh*t. At least the older brother seems smart, responsible even.’

The older boy’s eyes lit up, "T-thank you!" he stammered as they shared the coat between them. Nazari sighed deeply, as he glanced at the flowers the younger child held tightly. 

“The flowers your little brother’s holding... they look beautiful. I’ll buy them for 500 pesos.”

The older boy’s eyes widened in surprise. "You mean it, big brother?" he exclaimed, his excitement palpable. He turned to his little brother, asking if he was willing to sell the flowers so they could buy some bread.

The younger one hesitated, clutching the bouquet a little tighter, but eventually, he nodded. Nazari handed over the money, taking the small bundle of purple asters.

"So, kid," Nazari said, "if you’re going to buy food, head to that convenience store across the road. The owner’s trustworthy, he’ll help you out. Just... don’t do anything reckless, alright?"

The older brother nodded enthusiastically, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"And... never leave your little brother. If you’re lucky enough to find good people willing to help, make sure you repay them someday..." Nazari trailed off, suddenly confused. ‘Why am I even telling them this?’

"Now, go."

"Thank you, big brother!" the older boy called out as they hurried off toward the convenience store, smiles brightening their faces for the first time that night.

Nazari watched them run, their small figures disappearing into the store.

‘I don’t deserve their gratitude,’ he thought bitterly, the familiar cold emptiness settling in his chest once more.

Suddenly, a loud voice snapped him from his reverie.

"What?! Your parents abandoned you?! THOSE BASTARDS! PIECES OF TRASH!"

"Brother Lynn! Watch your mouth!" a younger voice chimed in.

"Oh, sorry, sweetie!"

Nazari could hear the bickering from across the street. Just as he expected, the store owner—Lynn—and his youngest sister were tending to the kids. They didn't hesitate to help, offering the boys warm food and drinks, making sure every need was met.

"They didn’t even think twice," Nazari mumbled to himself.

‘The kid has his little brother, and that owner has his three siblings. They all have someone to care for, someone important in their lives. Even when life throws suffering and hardship their way, even when they’re tired and hurting, their eyes still flicker with light. They keep going because their lives aren’t just their own.’

A chill wind swept past him, causing him to shiver. "Ah, I can feel the cold now," he murmured as the breeze brushed against his skin, sinking deeper into his bones.

"Naz..."

"Huh?" Nazari jolted upright, his heart skipping a beat. Someone had whispered his name. He looked around, his eyes scanning the empty street.

But there was no one there.

‘But why have I felt like I’m forgetting something for a while now?’

Nazari’s attention shifted when he heard a soft meow. "Oh, it’s you."

A black cat, the familiar stray that always appeared in the park, approached him. It nuzzled against his feet, rubbing its head in gentle circles.

Its fur was black, but strangely, it shimmered when the light touched it. Its warmth reached Nazari’s heart in a way that felt oddly comforting, lifting his mood ever so slightly.

The cat leaped up and settled on his lap, purring contentedly. Almost unconsciously, Nazari began to stroke its sleek fur.

"This stray cat... and those kids," he murmured, lost in thought. "If I help them, then their lives become my responsibility. I don’t know if I can handle that. If they stayed with me, their lives might just become more miserable."

The cat nuzzled his hand, licking it affectionately before tending to its own leg. "Ah, how’s your leg? You were limping the last time I saw you."

He paused, confused. "Wait... when was that?"

A sharp pain flared in his head as he tried to recall, but the memory was fuzzy.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, pulling his hand back in surprise as the cat bit his ring finger. There was no wound, but when he looked closely, two dark spots, the size of small moles, had appeared.

Suddenly, like a gust of wind clearing away fog, everything rushed back to him.

"Oh... I died... twice."

He stared ahead, lost in the weight of the revelation.

‘Is this what they mean by memories after death? But... why this one?’

Just then, Nazari heard a sound—cracks, like glass slowly breaking. His surroundings began to crumble, shattering like a fragile mirror, leaving him standing alone in an endless dark void.

‘Is the afterlife like this?’ Nazari scoffed to himself. ‘Just... nothingness?’

"Was I meant to be here all along?" he whispered into the emptiness. "Alive or not, it’s still the same. I’m still... alone."

Silence enveloped him, suffocating in its weight.

Then all of a sudden, a voice broke through the void.

"NAZ!"

At the same time, another crack split the darkness, and through the gaps, a vibrant purple light emerged, piercing through the void and shattering the space he was trapped in.

The light came from a magnificent wisteria tree, standing tall in the center of a serene lake. Its cascading purple blossoms hung delicately from long vines, swaying gently in the breeze, their beauty enhanced by the fresh green leaves. 

The reflection of the purple blooms and lush greenery in the water below created a breathtaking scene—a peaceful, dreamlike beauty that made Nazari’s heart beat faster.

“Is this the real afterlife?” he wondered, feeling a strange, quiet warmth. “If so... it’s beautiful.”

He felt himself sinking slowly into the lake. Though the water was dark and its depths unknown, an overwhelming sense of comfort wrapped around him, pulling him deeper.

‘If this is what rest feels like... then I want to stay.’

"Naz... please, come back!"

The voice echoed again, desperate, pleading, tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He opened his eyes slightly, hearing the raw emotion in the call. Yet, despite the earnestness in the voice, Nazari felt no will to struggle. The pull of peace, of rest, was far stronger.

‘I was given another chance to live my life differently, but it’s still the same. I always feel like shit and miserable... Maybe it’s me who’s the problem.’

‘Those kids, Khyne and Elijah, had so much life ahead of them. But because of me, they died, even Nobelle.’

‘I can’t even fulfill my promise to Zarani, the water spirit, or to myself.’

‘It’s better to stay here and stop thinking altogether.’

"Naz... please."

The voice called out again, and this time Nazari felt a warm hand grasping him, pulling him from the water. He gasped for air as his body rested against the massive root of the wisteria tree.

"Ar...win?" Nazari managed to call out, his voice trembling. He was certain the voice belonged to Arwin. "Arwin?!" he called again, but his words echoed unanswered.

Amidst his confusion, he felt a guiding warmth on his back and heard a strange, cold voice that seemed to come from nowhere.

"You still have so much to do. My Nash."

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