Rony didn't know how long he cried. The tears had dried but left behind their heaviness, like invisible scars etched on the soul. His small frame trembled in silence as he crouched beneath the towering trees, pressing his forehead to the cool, mossy earth. It wasn't just sorrow pouring from him—it was guilt, confusion, longing... the aching echo of a life torn too soon.
And then, there was nothing. No more sobs, no more words. Just silence.
He simply sat still. Breathing. Listening. Feeling.
The forest around him was vast, alive, and impossibly serene. The rustle of leaves in the wind, the hum of distant birdsong, the warmth of light peeking through branches—it all embraced him like an old friend he never knew he had. A light breeze brushed through the leaves, and for a fleeting moment, he felt like it wrapped around him, like a mother's lullaby—gentle and warm. It calmed the storm inside him. The chaos of thought began to settle, like dust gently floating to the ground.
His mind cleared.
Where... am I?
He blinked and lifted his face from the dirt, his throat dry, his eyes puffy. It was the first true question that came to him—not from fear, not from panic, but from the calm curiosity of someone trying to understand.
"If I'm still alive... shouldn't I be in a hospital?" he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse and childlike. "Why am I... in a forest?"
His eyes shifted upward, through the gaps in the branches.
There it was again.
Not one, but two suns floated high in the sky. One golden and majestic, the other smaller and paler, as if in orbit around its bigger brother. Together they painted the heavens in shades of fire and silver.
His breath hitched. "T-That's... impossible."
The wind brushed past again, this time softer, as if acknowledging his disbelief. It carried with it the scent of wildflowers, pine, and something else—something clean, pure, and new. His heart beat slowly, almost at peace despite the confusion.
It didn't feel like Earth. Not the one he remembered.
This wind… he thought. It's not polluted. It feels... fresh. Too fresh.
The deeper he inhaled, the more he noticed the difference. There was something woven into the air itself. Not dust, not toxins. But a soothing energy. It shimmered, invisible and warm, like sunlight passing through your skin.
What is this... this feeling? he wondered.
Something invisible... subtle... was entering his body with every breath. Not oxygen, not scent.
Something else.
Something that made his skin feel alive.
"Mana..." he whispered the word, stunned. "I'm... breathing in mana?"
The realization hit him like a wave. He staggered forward, his steps clumsy and small, and found a pond glistening between the trees. Still, clear, and pure like glass. Sunlight danced across its surface, refracting beams of light like a silent celebration.
He stumbled toward it, kneeling beside it, and peered into the reflection.
A face stared back at him.
A boy. A child.
He blinked, touched his cheek, and stared again.
His dark hair was a little messy, his eyes still glimmered with the hue of sorrow, but the wrinkles of exhaustion, the pale shade of an overworked student—gone.
His lips quivered.
"Damn..." he muttered, the voice echoing with disbelief. "My body... it's younger."
He tilted his head, examining his reflection.
His arms—small. His legs—short and fresh, not scarred by years of walking through pain. His face—soft, untouched by the weight of adulthood.
"I look just like I did when I was ten."
His voice trembled, his chest tightened.
He didn't know whether to smile or cry again.
Reborn?
He scooped up a handful of water, bringing it to his dry lips. It was cool and sweet, the kind of water he had never tasted on Earth. After another splash to his face, he sat back, panting lightly. The reflection shimmered, distorting the boy in the water.
That was him now.
He took a moment to stretch his arms, his spine, his legs. Every motion felt easy, light—almost like waking up from a long, dreamless sleep.
His thoughts spiraled again. This can't be Earth. Two suns? Mana? A perfect forest like this?
The memory sparked.
A book.
A game.
A world built from imagination and magic.
"The Chronicles of Life..." he whispered in disbelief.
His hands clenched the grass beside him. "This... this is the world from that novel... from that game."
Silence hung heavy again, but this time, it wasn't grief. It was realization.
The truth fell over him like a curtain.
He was dead.
He didn't want to believe it. No, he had clung to the idea that maybe he had survived. Maybe someone had found him. Maybe the ambulance came in time.
But he wasn't in a hospital. He wasn't on Earth.
He was in a story.
The story.
His breath caught in his throat. "I really died... didn't I?"
His chest ached again—not physically, but with a guilt sharper than any pain.
His sister.
The world blurred as his tears threatened again. Not because he was afraid.
Because he missed her.
Because he left her.
He remembered her small hands, her laughter, the way she nagged him about brushing his hair. He remembered saving every bit of money for her, avoiding luxuries so she could one day live comfortably.
"I left everything for her..." he whispered, falling back onto the grass. "She'll find the account... she'll be okay. She'll be okay... without me."
But it still hurt. Every beat of his heart mourned her, wished to see her again. To hug her one more time. To tell her in person that he never regretted anything if she could live freely.
A wind stirred again.
As if the world was mourning with him.
He curled up in the grass, wiping his face again and again, trying to breathe.
"She's strong," he whispered. "She'll cry. She'll break. But... she'll stand up."
The sky was too beautiful for a heart so broken. The two suns hung like celestial parents watching over him. The breeze comforted him like a cradle, and the sound of the leaves sang softly like a lullaby.
He wasn't sure what was waiting for him in this world.
But he was here now.
And he had to keep going.
He sat up again, this time with purpose.
"I don't know why I'm here," he said to the wind. "I don't know what brought me back... but I will live. I'll live well. For her."
He stood slowly, his knees shaking, his hands still trembling. He looked down at his reflection one last time.
"I don't know who I'll become in this world... but I'll never forget who I was."
And with that, Rony, now a child reborn under twin suns, began to walk through the forest—his steps uncertain, but his heart finally beating in rhythm with a strange new world.
And somewhere, far away, in a world he had left behind...
A girl clutched a phone close to her chest, crying her soul out, reading a final message she never got to reply to.