A vast void stretched in every direction, empty to the point of suffocation, where even the concept of space seemed to dissolve into nothingness. There was no ground, no sky, no sense of up or down, only an endless darkness that swallowed everything, deeper than black, heavier than silence. Within it, a single consciousness drifted, fragile and alone, belonging to a kid who could not even feel his own body, only the faint awareness that he existed.
From that suffocating abyss, something stirred.
A presence, ancient and incomprehensible, pressed against his mind. It did not have a form, yet it felt close, far too close, like a whisper brushing against the inside of his skull. When it spoke, the voice did not travel through air. It simply appeared, echoing where thoughts should have been.
It asked him his name.
For a moment, the kid hesitated. Confusion flickered through him, followed by an awkward, almost misplaced chuckle that broke the stillness.
"My name...?" His voice felt distant, like it did not belong to him. "That's... kind of an odd question." He paused, as if searching through something that was no longer there. "I forgot it. Heh... I actually forgot my own name. How about that?" The faint humor in his tone wavered, thinning into something hollow. "Why does it even matter? I lost everything. Not even my name is something I still got."
The darkness did not react, yet its presence tightened, pressing again, more insistently this time.
It asked for his last name.
The kid's thoughts stumbled. A sharp flicker of panic cut through the emptiness, his voice faltering as it tried to respond.
"My last name...?" A pause, longer this time, heavier. "I... I forgot that too." The words came out quieter, strained. "I'm sorry. I can't answer that either."
Silence followed, thick and suffocating, stretching until it felt like it would crush him.
Then, something changed.
The voice returned, but it was different now. No longer a distant thought, it broke into the void as something almost real, almost audible. It trembled as it formed, high and feminine, as if each word had to fight its way into existence.
"Your name..." The voice quivered, fragile yet persistent. "I know your name..."
The kid's stillness shattered. A sudden surge of urgency tore through him, raw and desperate.
"WHAT!?" His voice cracked as it echoed into the endless dark. "Wh... WHAT IS IT?!"
The presence struggled, the words catching, repeating as though slipping from its grasp.
"Your name..."
For a fleeting instant, it felt like the entire void held its breath.
"Your name is..."
A sharp, jarring sound ripped through everything.
A phone rang.
The noise did not belong to the void. It was loud, intrusive, painfully real. It cut through the darkness like a blade, distorting the fragile voice, tearing her words apart before they could fully form.
The presence faltered.
Light burst into existence.
It spilled violently into the nothingness, blinding, overwhelming, devouring the darkness that had once felt infinite. The void fractured, its suffocating grip collapsing as the ringing continued to echo.
And just like that, the darkness was gone.
The room was drenched in white.
Sterile walls, polished floors, and the faint scent of antiseptic blended into a space that felt too clean, too still, as if time itself had been carefully contained within it. Machines surrounded a single bed, their quiet hums weaving into a steady rhythm, anchored by the soft, repetitive beeping of a heart monitor. Each sound echoed gently, filling the silence without breaking it.
Beside the bed, a tall window stood uncovered. Sunlight streamed through the glass in long, golden strands, spilling across the sheets and climbing slowly over the face of a boy lying motionless beneath them.
His hair burned red under the light, vivid and unnatural against the pale setting, while his long, delicate eyelashes cast faint shadows across his cheeks. For a moment, nothing moved.
Beep.
The sound cut through the stillness.
Beep.
Then, with the next pulse of the machine, his eyes opened.
They shimmered instantly, sharp and alive, glowing like polished gemstones. A deep, unnatural red.
He inhaled sharply, as if surfacing from somewhere far away, and lifted his head with a small, disoriented motion. His hand rose instinctively, brushing against his face as he cleared the heaviness from his vision. The world around him slowly came into focus.
Figures.
A group of people stood around the bed, their forms blurred at first, then sharpening into silhouettes dressed in formal clothing. Their voices overlapped in hushed whispers, low and urgent, but none of their words were clear. It was like listening through water, fragments of sound slipping away before they could be understood.
The boy frowned slightly, confusion settling in.
Without hesitation, he pushed the blanket aside. The fabric slid off him in a quiet ripple as his feet touched the cold floor. In one smooth motion, he stood up.
And just as quickly as he had risen, everything changed.
The room was empty.
The people were gone. No footsteps, no closing doors, no lingering movement. Just silence.
Only the door remained slightly open, creaking faintly as it swayed.
And one person stayed behind.
An old woman.
The boy stood at 5.3 feet, his posture unsteady but alert, while the woman before him was shorter, around 5.0 feet, her frame small yet strangely firm. She stood still, her hands folded neatly behind her back, as though she had been waiting.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Her clothes were a faded pink, worn and soft with age, and her face carried deep lines that told stories time had carved into her skin. Her eyes were narrow, almost closed, giving the unsettling impression that she might not be seeing him at all.
Yet when her gaze met his, it felt precise.
Intent.
"Hello, kid."
Her voice did not match her appearance. It was deep, grounded, almost heavy, as if it carried something far older than her body.
The boy blinked, caught off guard. His brows tightened as he looked around once more, as if expecting the others to reappear.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice rough, still adjusting to being used again.
"You're in a hospital," she replied calmly.
He turned back to her quickly, confusion sharpening into urgency.
"What hospital? Why am I in a hospital?"
The woman tilted her head ever so slightly, studying him.
"You just woke up," she said, her tone steady, almost indifferent. "I don't think it's smart to stand up that fast."
The boy didn't respond.
He stood there in silence, his red eyes fixed on her, searching, waiting.
Demanding something more than what she was giving.
The old woman let out a slow sigh, the kind that carried exhaustion far deeper than simple annoyance. For a brief moment, her narrow eyes lowered toward the floor before she finally spoke.
"You were brought here because you fell from a bridge," she said quietly. "This hospital is in Utashinai, in hokkaido."
The boy stared at her blankly.
Confusion spread clearly across his face, raw and impossible to hide. His crimson eyes searched desperately through his thoughts, but every attempt felt like reaching into empty fog.
The old woman watched him carefully.
"So..." Her voice softened slightly. "You really remember nothing."
The boy's lips parted hesitantly.
"Who are you?"
The woman answered without pause.
"Lilith."
The name lingered strangely in the sterile room.
The boy repeated it under his breath, almost instinctively.
"Lilith..."
The moment the word left his mouth, a sharp heaviness crashed into his head. His vision tilted violently. The room blurred, the white walls twisting around him as his body staggered forward.
He tried to steady himself.
But.
His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed toward the old woman. Yet before he could hit the floor, her arms caught him with surprising ease.
For someone so small and frail-looking, her grip was firm.
The old woman gently pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him in a quiet embrace. A faint smile formed across her wrinkled face, subtle but strangely comforting.
"You're going to be safe now," she whispered softly. "Don't worry."
But the weight behind his eyes grew unbearable. Darkness crawled across his vision once more, swallowing the room piece by piece until everything faded away.
Into blackness.
...
What felt like only an instant later, his eyes opened again.
The soft rumble of an engine surrounded him.
He blinked slowly and realized he was sitting inside a taxi.
Rain-speckled city lights drifted past the windows in long streaks of color while the old woman sat quietly beside him, her posture perfectly still. The boy instinctively looked down at himself and froze.
His clothes had been changed.
A black tracksuit covered his body now, clean and comfortable, paired with dark sports shoes he did not recognize.
His brows narrowed slightly.
He turned his gaze toward the front mirror, trying to get a look at the driver, but something felt wrong. No matter how hard he focused, the driver's face remained impossible to make out. It was as though the reflection itself refused to show him.
The boy slowly leaned against the car door, exhaustion still clinging to his body. His feet lightly brushed against the old woman's as silence filled the taxi once more.
Eventually, the car came to a stop.
The driver finally spoke, his deep voice low and emotionless.
"This is your stop."
The two stepped out of the vehicle.
Cold evening air greeted the boy instantly, carrying the distant sounds of the city through the quiet streets. Towering before them stood a massive building wrapped in warm golden lights, elegant enough to belong to wealthy upper-class residents. The polished entrance and towering windows made the place feel almost unreal compared to the old woman standing beside him in faded pink clothes.
The boy glanced at her suspiciously.
For the first time, the thought crossed his mind that she might actually be rich.
Though nothing about her appearance suggested it.
"Is this your house?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes," Lilith answered calmly. "You'll be living here as well."
The boy's eyes widened instantly.
"WHAT?!" His voice echoed sharply through the night air. "Why would I live with you?!"
Lilith looked at him without reacting.
"Do you even remember your name?"
The question struck him harder than expected.
"My... name?"
"What about your last name?" she continued quietly. "Do you remember anything at all?"
The boy froze.
Sweat formed across his forehead as he forced himself to think. His mind strained desperately, searching for even the smallest fragment of memory.
Nothing.
Not a face.
Not a voice.
Not even a single letter.
Lilith watched the panic slowly build inside him.
"You can't remember anything," she said gently. "The doctors already told me that." Her eyes lowered slightly. "They said time may bring those memories back to you. Eventually, you'll remember the people you knew, the name you once had, the feelings that belonged to you."
The boy remained silent.
Anxiety twisted inside his chest as countless thoughts crashed into one another.
Why was he on that bridge?
Did he fall... or jump?
Who exactly was Lilith?
And why did it feel like his life had already started moving somewhere terrifying long before he woke up?
The elevator ride to the third floor was painfully quiet.
Only the faint mechanical hum of the elevator accompanied them as the numbers slowly climbed higher. Harry stood near the corner, arms slightly tense at his sides, while Lilith remained perfectly still beside him, her small figure reflected dimly against the metallic walls.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
They stepped into a long hallway wrapped in soft yellow lighting. The air smelled faintly of wood and old perfume, a strange mixture that made the place feel both warm and unsettling. Their footsteps echoed quietly against the polished floor as Lilith guided him toward one of the apartments at the far end.
The moment the door opened, Harry froze slightly.
The apartment was painted entirely white.
White walls.
White ceiling.
Even the furniture carried pale tones that blended into the soft lighting pouring from the hanging lamps above. Only the wooden floors broke the emptiness with their darker color, smooth and polished beneath his shoes.
Lilith stepped further inside without looking back.
"Harry Grey."
Kid blinked and lifted his head.
"Hm?"
She slowly turned toward him.
"Your name is Harry Grey." Her voice remained calm, almost emotionless. "I thought you had to remember that."
The boy repeated the words quietly to himself, testing them as though they belonged to someone else.
"Harry Grey..."
The name felt distant.
Unfamiliar.
Yet strangely heavy in his chest.
Lilith motioned for him to follow her deeper into the apartment. She eventually stopped in front of a small room and pushed the door open.
"There."
Harry looked inside.
The room was nearly empty.
A mattress rested directly on the wooden floor without a bed frame, and beside it stood a single closet pushed against the wall. Nothing else. No decorations. No desk. No sign that anyone had ever truly lived there.
Inside they entered, Cold evening light spilled through the curtains, painting pale shadows across the empty space.
"This is where you're going to live from now on," Lilith said.
Harry slowly turned toward her.
"What about my friends?" His voice carried uncertainty now. "My family?"
Lilith stayed silent.
The stillness immediately made his stomach tighten.
"Why aren't you answering me?"
His fists slowly clenched at his sides. The confusion and fear that had been building inside him since waking up finally started bleeding into anger.
Lilith lowered her eyes slightly.
"Your mother..." Her voice softened, "She passed away."
Harry breath caught violently in his throat.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Colder.
"Your father left when you were still young."
"What...?" The word escaped him weakly, barely audible.
"You have no friends," Lilith continued. "And the rest of your family refused to take you in."
Harry staggered back half a step.
"H-Hold on... hold on a minute..."
Lilith stepped closer.
For the first time since he met her, the warmth in her voice disappeared completely.
"Don't you see, Harry?" she said coldly. "Nobody in this world gives a fuck about your sorry ass." Her narrow eyes locked directly onto his trembling expression. "Stop looking sad. Stop looking angry. Grow up."
"I SAID HOLD THE FUCK UP!"
Harry's scream exploded through the apartment.
Lilith stopped walking.
His chest rose and fell heavily as panic, rage, and disbelief twisted together inside him.
"What do you mean I have no friends?!" His voice cracked violently. "What do you mean my family doesn't want me?! Who the hell do I even have?!"
Lilith stared at him in silence for a moment.
Then she answered.
"Me."
The single word landed harder than anything else she had said.
"I'm the only one you'll have," she continued quietly. "And the only one you'll need."
Harry's face froze.
Shock.
Disbelief.
Everything inside him seemed to stop moving at once.
Lilith turned away without another word and calmly walked out of the room. Her footsteps faded down the hallway until only silence remained behind.
Harry stood alone in the empty room, unable to move.
Her words kept echoing inside his head.
Over.
And over.
And over again.