The bell rang. Just like that, the classes were over.
The crowd of students poured out through the school gates, chatting, laughing, some vanishing into the Lev-buses that hovered silently above the transport lanes. Ren stood quietly at the edge of the curb, watching them leave.
Instead of boarding the Lev-bus, he turned away and began to walk.
He walked not because the bus was full, nor because his house was too far. He just… needed the silence.
The air was unusually crisp, carrying the faint warmth of the setting sun. Or rather—suns. One golden, one blue.
As Ren kept walking, a quiet unrest stirred inside him.
Why did it still haunt him—something no one even talks about anymore?
The second sun was just… there now. People learned to live with it. But Ren couldn't. It didn't feel right. It never did.
Was he the only one who remembered how it sounded? How the sky screamed?
Ren glanced up again. The second sun flickered faintly with a flame-like aura, not quite bright, not quite solid. A thought crossed his mind—
The day everything changed.
[Twelve Years Ago]
It was supposed to be an ordinary day. Birds chirped. Clouds drifted. Children played in the streets of Ariella.
Then it came.
A massive sphere burst through the clouds, devouring the sky. It wasn't fire. It wasn't stone. It simply was.
It swallowed the sun.
The world froze.
Then—
That sound.
Like forks clawing against iron. Like metal screaming in protest.
People dropped to their knees, hands over their ears. Parents clutched their children. Heads turned skyward, eyes wide with fear.
Was this the end?
And then… he appeared.
Ren blinked.
The memory faded like breath on glass.
_____
As Ren walked through the floating pedestrian lanes of the city, he passed by air roads shimmering beneath translucent safety fields. Children ran around with AR headsets glowing faintly on their foreheads, laughing at things only they could see—dragons, spaceships, or maybe just illusions of simpler times. On the side pavement, designed with soft pressure tiles for comfort, a few older folks strolled quietly, their pets walking beside them in perfect sync, each step cushioned by subtle tech buried beneath the ground.
The world around him buzzed with innovation, yet Ren's steps felt oddly heavy, as if he was moving through a dream too light for its own weight. Every flash of artificial joy only deepened the quiet ache under his calm face.
He just kept walking.
A crackling voice pulled his attention.
A man sitting near a corner stall—a homeless figure with a faded coat and dust on his sleeves—was selling actual books.
Real pages. Tangible ink. In a world where everyone read from air.
Something pulled Ren toward him.
Most of the books were barely readable. Old novels, broken manuals, ancient pages yellowing with time. But one caught his eye—Its cover was tattered leather, stained by time. The title was gone, but at the bottom, just legible, the author's name remained: Rudd Velion.
His breath caught.
The man smiled. "You've got an eye. That one's special."
"Where did you get this?" Ren asked.
The man's smile widened. "Maybe it was meant for you."
Ren frowned, uneased. "I don't need it."
"Take it anyway," the man insisted gently. "Some things find you when they must."
But Ren turned away. Something in him resisted. He didn't know why.
As he walked off, the man didn't follow—just sat back quietly, as if waiting.
_____
Behind him, in a dim, forgotten corner of the city, the same man entered a locked, dusty library. Books lay in quiet decay. The man walked slowly toward an empty shelf—one that once held the book.
It was gone now.
_____
Ren reached home and quietly climbed to his room, skipping lunch. His thoughts swirled as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Why was that man so persistent?
When did Rudd Velion even write a book?
What even did he write about?
And why does it feel like… I've seen it before?
He glanced at the window.
Wide open.
Again.
"Mom…" he whispered, sighing.
He got up, shut it slowly, and stood there for a moment. The golden sun had sunk behind the buildings. But the second sun still hung, flickering weaker by the second. Its blue glow stretched long shadows across the room.
"Why did it happen…" he murmured.
Then—
"Ren! Come to eat now!"
The voice of his mother—sharp and loud. The kind that didn't allow a second delay.
Ren jolted up.
Trouble was waiting if he didn't move.
And so, he ran to save from his mom's wrath.