If Arin had known 3 December 2025 would be the morning his old life quietly ended, he probably would've at least combed his hair.
It was the day Arin, the main character of our story, experienced the biggest shock of his life. Even now, he remembered it with an almost uncomfortable clarity, every moment etched into him as if time itself had refused to let go. Years later, when he thought back on that morning, it was never the frightening parts that returned first. It was the ordinary ones. The pale sunlight creeping through the curtains. The mess in his room. The irritated voice of his older sister outside his door. The taste of toast at breakfast. Everything had seemed painfully normal, and perhaps that was what made the memory stranger than anything else. It had begun as just another day, or so he had believed.
The first sign that something was different came from his dream. Arin saw faces, people he had never met, yet somehow felt impossibly close to. Their smiles were warm in a way reality rarely offered him, and their voices were soft and familiar, like fragments of a childhood he could not recall no matter how hard he tried. He did not know where he was standing or how he had arrived there, but none of that seemed to matter. There was a strange calm surrounding him, a warmth that made him feel safer than he could remember ever feeling before. When he met their eyes, something quiet and instinctive rose inside him, whispering one undeniable word.
Family.
The thought did not come from any of the strangers. No one spoke it aloud. It simply appeared inside his mind with the certainty of a memory, and for reasons he could not explain, it made his chest ache. It was not pain, not exactly. It felt more like longing for something he had lost before he was old enough to know it had ever belonged to him.
Among the strangers, one wore a pendant around their neck. A sigil glowed faintly upon it, a simple spiral shaped almost like a moon eating a star. It was not an especially complicated design, yet Arin could not stop staring at it. Every time he tried to focus on the symbol, the light blurred as if the pendant existed in two places at once, both there and not there. He narrowed his eyes, trying to memorize every curve before the dream faded, and stepped closer. The stranger did not move. Neither did anyone else. They simply watched him with those warm, familiar expressions, as though they had been waiting for him to notice something that should have been obvious all along.
He reached toward the pendant.
His fingers came within inches of it.
He almost touched it.
And then—
"Arin! Wake up already, idiot!"
A loud knock slammed against his bedroom door, and his older sister's irritated voice cut through the dream like a blade. In an instant, the warmth vanished. The faces dissolved into nothing, the pendant disappeared, and the entire world around him shattered as though someone had dropped a mirror onto stone.
Arin's eyes snapped open to the dim morning light spilling across his messy room. For several seconds, he did not move. He simply stared at the ceiling while his heart beat much faster than it should have, trying to hold onto the dream before it slipped away completely. The faces were already fading. He could remember that they had smiled at him, that they had felt familiar, but every detail was becoming softer around the edges.
"Arin!" another knock rattled the door. "Wake up! You're going to be late!"
"I'm awake," he called.
"You said that five minutes ago!"
"I was awake emotionally."
There was a brief silence outside the room.
"Get up before I come inside."
Arin immediately pushed himself upright. "I'm up."
The footsteps outside slowly moved away, and he let out a long sigh before looking around his room. Clothes he had promised to clean "tomorrow" were scattered across a chair and half the floor. Books were piled like failed towers beside his desk, scribbled notes covered one corner of the table, and a snack wrapper had somehow survived three separate cleaning attempts. Everything was exactly where it had been the night before, yet for some reason it all looked slightly unfamiliar. It felt as if he had awakened inside a life that belonged to someone else.
Only then did he fully understand that those people, those smiles and that impossible sense of belonging, had been nothing more than a dream.
Or at least, that was what he tried to tell himself.
He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the heaviness lingering in his chest, but the dream did not fade the way ordinary dreams usually did. It clung to him, warm, haunting, confusing, and strangely comforting all at once. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the strangers' faces. Nothing. He tried harder. Still nothing. Yet when he thought of the pendant, the spiral shaped like a moon eating a star returned with startling clarity.
Why did he remember that?
Why did something from a dream feel so important?
It did not feel imagined. It did not feel random. It felt like a memory, one he was not supposed to have, one that had slipped through a crack in the universe and somehow found him instead. He took a slow breath, not knowing that this ordinary morning was only the beginning. Today was not going to be normal, and some small, uneasy part of him already knew it.
What he did not know was how quickly normal would slip away.
Arin was fifteen, and his personality made exactly as much sense as that age usually did, which was to say, none. He was sarcastic by instinct, lazy by habit, philosophical whenever he was bored, and dramatic only when it benefited him. His luck was so consistently terrible that if scientists ever needed proof that probability had a sense of humor, they could probably study his life. He joked about it because joking was easier than thinking, especially when the alternative meant thinking about the things that actually frightened him.
Sometimes he would say things like, "Tomorrow's problems don't scare me. Even death would get tired waiting for me."
It sounded bold. Maybe even cool if someone squinted hard enough. Deep down, though, even Arin knew it was mostly a shield.
He had no idea the universe had been listening.
Dragging himself to breakfast, he flicked through his phone with the enthusiasm of a dying snail. Half-asleep, he barely noticed the messages, notifications, and random videos until a flashing news headline snapped him fully awake.
"Teenagers collapsing from sudden heart attacks — unexplained surge continues."
His thumb stopped moving.
He read the headline once.
Then again.
Kids his age. Healthy yesterday, gone today. No warnings. No explanations.
His sister leaned over beside him, still wearing a worn-out T-shirt with her hair tied into a lopsided bun. "This is… really scary," she whispered. "They look our age."
For once, Arin did not immediately know what to say. The article showed photographs, but he looked away before studying them for long. Something about it made his stomach feel uncomfortable, and whenever something made him uncomfortable, Arin relied on the same defense mechanism he always had.
He made a joke.
"Looks like death's rushing deadlines now," he muttered.
His sister stared at him as if he had just insulted oxygen.
"Arin. Seriously? You think this is a joke?"
He quickly raised both hands. "Okay, okay. Bad joke. No more death humor before breakfast."
She kept staring.
Arin suddenly found his toast fascinating.
Even while he joked, however, a ripple of unease moved through him. It felt as if he had poked something he should not have. He glanced once more at the headline before locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket, but the words stayed with him all the way to school.
On his way there, the world felt heavier. Not dangerous. Not dramatic. Just slightly heavier, as though the air itself had gained weight overnight. The road looked the same, the shops were opening as usual, cars passed by, and people hurried toward work. Everything appeared perfectly ordinary, yet something about the morning seemed wrong.
A crow perched on a rooftop tilted its head at him like he owed it money.
Arin stared back.
"Don't judge me."
The crow cawed.
"Yeah, yeah. Keep your opinions to yourself."
He continued walking. A streetlight flickered twice even though the sun was already shining brightly. Arin glanced at it, then at the sky, and then back at the streetlight.
"Okay…"
A cold breeze brushed the back of his neck despite the warmth of the morning, and before he could think much about it, a sharp ache stabbed through his chest.
He stopped.
His hand went to his shirt.
The pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Arin stood there for several seconds, waiting for it to return. Nothing happened. His heartbeat seemed normal, his breathing was fine, and there was no sign that anything was wrong.
"That was… probably gas," he muttered, though his voice cracked.
He waited another moment.
"Definitely gas."
At school, the noise was comforting in its usual chaotic way. Students complained about homework, teachers yelled at people who were late, someone's phone alarm went off loudly and no one admitted it was theirs, and a group of boys argued over an answer that none of them had actually checked. Normal. For the first time since waking up, Arin felt like he could relax.
Maya glanced at him when he sat down. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"I just woke up. This is my normal face."
Riz raised an eyebrow. "Bro, your normal face looks like it's negotiating peace treaties with the universe."
"Universe doesn't negotiate," Arin snorted. "It just bullies me."
They laughed, and for a moment everything felt okay again.
But the heaviness never truly left.
A shifting shadow when he glanced away. A sudden static in his ears whenever he tried to remember the pendant's sigil. A shiver when no one touched him. Then, during lunch, the same brief ache returned to his chest, this time leaving behind a metallic taste in his mouth.
He ignored it.
Of course he did.
He was Arin.
By the time school ended, clouds had gathered overhead and the sky seemed darker than it should have been. On the walk home, exhaustion gnawed at him, accompanied by a strange restlessness that felt like something was tugging at his awareness from very far away. It was not a voice. It was not a sound. It was simply a pressure at the edge of his thoughts, the sensation that somewhere, somehow, something was waiting.
At dinner, his sister noticed him poking his food.
"You okay?"
"Just tired."
She did not believe him.
"You've been acting weird all day."
"I'm always weird."
"That isn't what I mean."
Arin smiled faintly. "I'm fine."
She watched him for another moment before looking away, but he knew she had not believed him.
His room felt colder that night. The shadows seemed longer, and the silence itself felt expectant. Arin lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling while replaying the dream again and again. Those warm faces. Those familiar eyes. That impossible sense of belonging he had never felt in his own world. Every time he tried to focus on the pendant's spiral, it slipped further away until only the faintest impression remained.
Eventually, he turned onto his side.
And that was when it happened.
A wave of weakness washed over him. At first it was soft, almost easy to ignore, but within seconds it became heavier and stronger until it felt suffocating. His breath came shallow, his fingers tingled, his chest ached sharply, and a ringing filled his ears while his heartbeat slowed.
"Huh…?" he whispered.
He tried to sit up.
He could not.
He tried to call his sister.
No voice came out.
Panic flickered through him, but before it could take hold, something quiet brushed against his mind. Ancient. Familiar. It felt almost like the warmth from the dream, and strangely enough, his fear began to disappear.
His last thought was not fear.
It was the faces from the dream.
And somewhere in the darkness, a voice whispered,
"I've been waiting."
Arin slipped away.
Quietly.
When consciousness returned, it did not return gently.
Arin gasped, sucking in a breath like he had been drowning, and his eyes snapped open to a blinding, endless white space.
No walls.
No sky.
No floor.
Just white.
"Okay… this is new," he muttered. "Either I'm dead, or my sister finally cleaned my room."
His voice echoed strangely through the emptiness.
Then he noticed someone beside him.
An old man with a silver beard, white robes, and a faint glow surrounding him. He stared at Arin like he had been waiting centuries.
"…Hello?" Arin said.
"Welcome, child," the old man replied. "I am the God responsible for this realm."
Arin nodded dramatically. "Ah. Cool. Definitely another dream."
The old man looked offended. "Child, this is not a dream."
"Yeah, yeah, dreams always say that. Then something weird happens, like a flying dog."
The god inhaled sharply. "I assure you, I am truly a god."
"Do you, like… have ID?"
"ID?!"
"You know, divine license? God certificate?"
"PATIEEENCE…" the god muttered.
Arin ignored him. "Anyway, since you're apparently god, I want my cheat powers."
"…What."
"You know. OP powers. Super strength. Time control. The ability to turn broccoli into chocolate—"
"I owe you nothing!"
"Every protagonist gets cheat powers! Read a book, old man!"
The god smacked him with his staff.
"OW—HEY!"
"I cannot give you powers!"
"WHY!?"
The god finally stopped hitting him, and the humor slowly disappeared from his face.
"Your fate is not something I am allowed to change," he said. "Forces older than me are woven into your life."
For the first time since arriving in the white realm, Arin had no joke ready.
"So… what happens now?" he asked quietly.
"You will return," the god said softly. "Not to your old life… but to where you truly belong."
The dream.
The faces.
The pendant.
Everything tilted toward one word.
Family.
Light gathered around Arin, beginning at his feet before rising around his body.
"WAIT—WHAT ABOUT MY CHEAT POWERS—?!"
"If you ask again," the god warned, "I will hit you once more."
"THIS IS HARASSMENT!"
The light swallowed him. The realm folded around him, and Arin felt himself being pulled into something vast and unknown.
"They are waiting for you," the god's voice followed him, softer now, almost like a final warning. "Do not run from it."
Arin's last view of the god was the tiny constellation of lights on his brow, dimming into an expression he couldn't read.
And then the white vanished.
Arin fell into the unknown.
He did not know it yet, but he was not falling into a stranger's story.
He was falling back home.
The old man remained alone in the endless white realm. For a long moment, he did not move. He simply stared toward the place where Arin had disappeared while the light that had carried the boy away slowly faded until silence returned once more.
The old man lowered his staff.
His expression was no longer annoyed. There was no irritation, no humor, only a deep and ancient exhaustion that seemed to have followed him for longer than time itself.
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked toward the empty sky.
There was no sun.
No moon.
No stars.
Only endless white.
Yet the old man looked as though he could see something far beyond it.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I have done my work, child," he said quietly. "Now my time has come."
The light surrounding his body began to change. At first it was barely noticeable, but then his robes started to shimmer and tiny particles of light separated from his fingers. His hands slowly became transparent, followed by his arms and shoulders. His silver beard turned into countless strands of light, and his white robes dissolved into glowing particles.
He did not resist.
He simply stood there.
Waiting.
Then, just as almost nothing remained of him, a voice came from the empty sky.
"Thank you so much, Elder."
The old man paused.
For the first time, his tired expression softened completely. A peaceful smile crossed his face as he looked upward.
"I suppose it is finally time."
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
And then he vanished.
There was no explosion. No great flash. No thunder.
He simply disappeared.
The endless white realm became silent once again.
Completely silent.
Far beyond that realm, Arin continued falling. He could not see where he was going or what waited below. He could not even tell whether he was falling through space, time, or something far beyond either.
Yet somewhere in the distance, something was waiting.
Something familiar.
Something he had forgotten.
Something that had never forgotten him.
Arin did not know it yet, but the life he had known was already over. The world he had called home was behind him now, and ahead waited a place where the impossible was ordinary, where the strange dream from that morning would no longer be a dream, and where the faces that had haunted his memories were waiting.
His family.
And as Arin continued falling through the unknown, one final thought seemed to echo somewhere beyond his fading consciousness.
Home.
He was going home.