When he finally turned off the tap, his skin was numb. He dressed in clean clothes, if those threadbare garments that had survived too many washes could be called "clean." The seams were worn, the colors faded, but it was all he had.

He collapsed onto the bed, feeling the worn-out mattress sag under his weight, as if it too were exhausted from the years.

He closed his eyes, but his mind gave him no respite.

—That Red Door... —he whispered, as memories of past lives sprang forth like water from a spring.

Forgotten faces, skills he had once mastered, loves and wars that no longer belonged to him.

—Why now? —he murmured, opening his eyes just enough to see the cracked ceiling—. There was never an opportunity without a price. What am I missing?

His thoughts were interrupted.

The neighbors had started their weekly ritual again: shouts, slams, and the occasional creative insult that managed to seep through the thin walls.

Asteron covered his eyes with his arm as if that could protect him from the domestic cacophony.

—Ah, yes, the soundtrack of my life —he murmured with sarcasm—. All that’s missing is for them to invite me to participate. But no, thank you. I prefer to save up to get out of this cheap play. Although, of course, first I need the money... and that seems harder than escaping this pigsty.

Then, something changed.

Suddenly, the shouts died down, as if someone had turned down the volume of the world. The oppressive humidity of the room disappeared. The mattress under his back lost its shape, as if it were melting, and was replaced by something firmer, more natural.

Something was not right.

He opened his eyes wide and sat up quickly, looking around in disbelief.

He was not in his room, nor in the apartment, nor even in the city.

He was under a sea of stars that shone with an intensity he had never seen in this life cycle, as if the sky itself had decided to come closer to earth to show him its splendor.

The grass under his feet was cool and soft, and the air smelled of damp earth and wildflowers. Around him, trees rose like ancient giants, with thick, gnarled trunks, their canopies so high they seemed to brush the stars.

The sound of a nearby stream mingled with the rustling of leaves and the distant songs of nocturnal creatures.

For the first time since he had recovered the memories of his past lives, something escaped his understanding.

—Where the hell am I…? —he murmured, and his voice was lost among the trees.— And how did I get here?