In a dreamlike place, where neither light nor darkness existed, as if he were hopelessly drunk or high, Mae lay dazed before three paths that stretched into the void with no apparent end.

  Barely conscious, Mae had no idea what was happening or where he was. Yet he could feel that each path gave off a distinct sensation. When he tried stepping onto the one on the right, it felt like returning to the peace and safety of home after a long day of work. But despite the intoxicating comfort that wrapped around him, he hesitated. There was something strange in that warmth, like an unwelcome visitor knocking on the door of his house.

  Then he turned to the middle path, and sensed that taking it would be like attending cooking classes: many wounds, pain, and despair awaited him. So he quickly dismissed it and turned to the path on the left. He had barely taken a few steps when melancholy washed over him like a tide.

  In that moment, he knew that if he kept going, he might untangle the knot that gripped his soul. Even in his dazed state, he recognized that such a sweet promise could be a lie, a trap—but his longing to see his mother again, to feel her love one more time, was stronger than his dulled senses, and he moved forward with staggering steps.

  With each step, however, something began to change. A slight revulsion bubbled up from deep within his chest, and it grew. Mae tried to ignore it, but the feeling turned into rejection, then anger… and finally, a sharp sting of pain. Like a child scolded for doing something foolish, he came to a halt, a complex expression on his face.

  He knew that feeling all too well. In that cherished past, when his mother would scold him firmly—but with love—for doing things she believed were harmful to her son, he would feel that same blend of warmth, anger, and disappointment.

  After a moment of stillness, with his heart heavy with sorrow, he knelt down and gently murmured:

  —I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I never said goodbye, never thanked you for everything you gave me, never told you how much I loved you in your final breath… I never imagined that day would be the last. I’ve tried to go on with my life, but the regret of not staying home, of not being there by your side to give you, even just once more, all my love and gratitude… it still haunts me.

  As if a dam had broken, the tears flowed freely, sliding down his cheeks like raindrops on glass.

  —I’ve missed you so much, Mom. I… —He wanted to go on, but the weight of emotion held his words back. Even so, he forced himself to continue, struggling against the tide of sadness that threatened to drown him.

  —I don’t know if I’ve done things right. I wanted you to be proud of me… but I’m not sure my choices were the right ones. Maybe I’ve disappointed you, but I did everything I could.

  The melancholic man sat down on the ground and hugged his knees, as if seeking comfort in the stillness of the void.

  —You know… I’m not a doctor, like you wanted. But I do stop people from getting poisoned. Once, I even got a thank-you letter for shutting down a place that was selling adulterated products —a smile formed on his face as he recalled everything he’d lived through so far—. I was lucky to meet good people…

  As he recounted in detail all the events that had marked his life, his once chaotic emotions began to settle. Every word that left his mouth seemed to carry away a bit of the heaviness that had piled up in his heart.

  A long time passed before he finished telling the void about the last six years of his life. Finally, he stood up slowly, turned around, and got ready to go back the way he had come.

  —Every single day of my life I wished to see you… to feel your arms around me like before, to hear you say you’d always be with me… Every day, I wanted to tell you how thankful I am, how much I miss you —his eyes were red, but he had already cried too much, and not a single tear fell—. But I know now that the second chance I kept asking for was nothing but self-indulgence.

  A deep silence filled the place. Not a void, but a pause full of acceptance.

  —Life is strange… I don’t know if this is a dream or a hallucination, and maybe I’m actually lying in some dark alleyway. But I’m grateful fate rewarded me with this meeting, Mom. Even if I can’t see you, I know you’re here, with me.

  A warm feeling, like an embrace, wrapped around his body, reminding him of the days when his mother comforted him and taught him never to give up.

  —I don’t know how long my life will be, but I promise I’ll give it my best. That way, when we meet again in the afterlife, you’ll be proud to be my mother.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  With those final words, and the silent blessing of his mother, Mae walked back with firm and steady steps. After so long, he had finally fulfilled his longed-for wish of forgiveness, and that knot, that heavy stone pressing on his heart, stopped tormenting him.

  The previous event had brought back some mental clarity. He no longer felt as lost as he had at the beginning. He still didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he knew it was the work of his companion, and that brought him peace. After all, he trusted Kairon more than he trusted himself.

  When he reached the starting point again, he hesitated for a moment. Then, with determination, he stepped onto the middle path. The one on the left, though it gave off a familiar feeling that reminded him of his old apartment, had something unsettling about it. Something deep in his subconscious told him it wasn’t the right choice. So he chose the path that felt more challenging.

  Although his mind was clearer, stepping onto that path unleashed a torrent of confused thoughts, as if his soul were being dragged into a thick fog. Denial, pain, and despair tried to hold him back, pleading with him to turn around and go back. But his body kept moving forward.

  Soon, as if life itself wanted to carve into his flesh the pain of defying it, multiple wounds began to appear on his body. Every cut, every burn, every crack in his skin was a cruel and painful warning: the price of defying death would not be easy to pay… and perhaps not even worth it.

  —My little rascal… what are you doing there? Don’t hurt yourself anymore, come to mommy.

  In that moment of doubt, when he had forgotten even who he was, his mother’s warm, worried voice gently caressed his ears, and Mae—now unrecognizable in appearance—stopped in his tracks.

  He turned his head, and through his clouded eyes, he glimpsed his mother in the distance. Beside her stood a slender woman with red hair.

  —Come. You don’t have to feel alone. Don’t go any further, come with us. We’re here for you —Carolina’s affectionate voice reached his ears, urging him to come back.

  Mae turned his body, took a step… and immediately stopped. He shook his dazed head and kept walking, while the voices of both women continued calling out to him from behind. He assumed it was a hallucination, a temptation, a lure to make him abandon the right path.

  His mother had always wanted the best for him, even if that “best” meant pain. She would never have told him to stop. And although he didn’t understand why Carolina appeared in that vision, he knew she had always supported him, even in his most foolish decisions. When he was wrong, she told him so—yes—but never, ever, had she told him to give up.

  'Life wasn’t a gift to be claimed, but a burden paid for through constant suffering'. A bitter truth Mae often forgot. He hated pain. Hated it with all his being. But if there was one thing that defined him, it was that he never left things unfinished. Always—no matter how hard it got—he tried to see it through to the end.

  “This is what I chose,” he thought, as he felt his body had become a canvas for torture, a practice dummy where killers learned to deliver their first stabs.

  Despair was taking hold. Every new wound that burst open on his skin was a cruel threat, a mockery hinting that the reward or relief he sought might never come. And yet, Mae didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop anymore. He had come too far to turn back now. So, with more willpower than actual desire, he kept walking.

  Time passed slowly. The figure of young Mae was replaced by an unrecognizable red lump that barely managed to move forward. It was absurd to think he still had any consciousness left, considering the amount of blood he had spilled along the way. But he kept marching, leaving behind red footprints like seals of his perseverance.

  In this endless spiral of pain, it was hard to describe what he felt. Every step came with weariness, regret, and curses directed at himself. And yet, like an oasis in the desert, a small white flame appeared before his eyes. A beacon of light that cleared the fog from his mind.

  As the light grew stronger, the heat it radiated began to slowly ease the agony that had consumed his body. It was as if each burst of warmth released a bit of the pain that had tormented him ever since he’d set foot on this path.

  The despair that had accompanied him throughout the entire path vanished, replaced by a quiet sense of anticipation. Each step toward that small flame brought him closer to the end. Because everything has an end. And even if he didn’t know whether it would be good or bad, at that moment, none of it mattered.

  If you find water in the middle of a desert after wandering for days, dying of thirst, you don’t ask if it’s safe to drink. You just drink. And deal with the consequences later.

  His steps, once heavy and sluggish, now felt light. Before long, he reached his destination. The flame that had guided him through the final stretch reminded him, for some reason, of a certain dragon’s blood. That same dragon who was, directly or indirectly, responsible for everything he had endured.

  A faint smile appeared on his face as the warmth of the flame began restoring his body. He shook his head gently and turned his gaze toward what truly seemed to be the exit of that place.

  A white door, clearly visible thanks to the guiding flame’s light, stood in his way. Its surface was adorned with an intricate golden hourglass, surrounded by thick mist that drifted slowly toward it, as if trying to conceal it—as if its purpose was to erase time itself.

  Without hesitation, he placed his hands on the door. But before pushing it open, he looked back at the emptiness he had crossed, silently bidding farewell to his mother—whom he had finally been able to say goodbye to—and to the red-haired woman who had helped him so much. He didn’t know what the future held, but he had the feeling he wouldn’t see her again. She was a good woman, and he hoped she’d have a good life.

  With a final push, the door opened, revealing an image of himself, sitting in a meditative pose—just as Kairon had instructed him. Without a second thought, he stepped through the threshold and vanished from the place.

  Behind him, the door slammed shut. The hourglass turned slowly, and the thick mist dissolved, revealing a beautiful valley filled with forget-me-not flowers of every color. It looked like a lovingly tended garden.

  As the hourglass seemed to begin its countdown, the door—and the entire space—shattered like glass, vanishing into nothingness, leaving behind only emptiness.