The alarm rang. Chris groaned as he dragged his hand over his nightstand, knocking something down before he could silence the clock. He lay there with his eyes closed for a few more seconds, taking in the softness of his pillow.

  He turned onto his back, rubbing his eyes and stretching, but his feet got tangled in the sheets. Something was amiss; his memory was foggy. He remembered talking to someone, but he couldn’t remember who.

  Chris opened his eyes and looked toward the nightstand to find his phone. The display showed that it was seven in the morning on a Monday.

  “I don’t remember setting my alarm this early.”

  He yawned as he flung his legs over the bed and found what he had knocked down. It was a bottle of water. Fortunately, he hadn’t forgotten to close it, unlike the other times.

  He checked his phone again, but there were no missed calls and no notifications.

  “Not again. My electricity bill will be huge this month.”

  So he threw his phone onto his bed and got up, walking toward his desk. He threw himself into his gaming chair and covered his ears with his headphones. His stream was still on from the last night, and he was logged into Forsaken Dungeons.

  He turned toward the noise coming from his neighbors. Sliding one ear out of his headphones, he listened, and it sounded like someone was hammering wood.

  “I hope they’re not renovating again.”

  He turned back to the screen and tried to log out of his streaming account, but the page kept buffering. His internet connection seemed fine.

  The hammering came again, this time louder. Annoyed by the sound, Chris took off his headphones and raised his voice.

  “Can’t you do it later? Some people are trying to relax.”

  No one answered.

  “Strange. Last time they screamed back at me.”

  His throat felt dry, so he got up to grab the fallen bottle. As he passed the mirror, his reflection looked different, but he didn’t realize it. As he gulped down the water, which felt like heaven for his throat, the noise returned, but now it sounded like someone was digging.

  “What are they doing? Are they going to break my ceiling?”

  Chris took his broom and began hitting the ceiling with its handle.

  “For God’s sake, can you keep it down!”

  But as he kept hitting it, a crack began to form, and the sounds came closer. Scared, he let go of the broom and fell onto his backside.

  “The landlord is going to be mad. Fuck!”

  As he sat on the ground, he turned to his left toward the mirror and finally looked at himself. He was confused. This was not his face. His hand traced the scar across his left cheek.

  The sound came again, but this time it was like someone scraping metal over wood.

  Chris looked up and saw the crack worsening. Bits of the ceiling began to fall, and light started to show through the holes.

  “Hey! Stop! The ceiling is going to break!” Chris shouted.

  The holes grew larger, and debris kept falling, so he jumped toward his bed to grab his phone. He tried to call the last people who would ever want to talk to him, his parents, but it wasn’t working.

  As he tried to run toward the door, the ceiling came down, and blinding light poured through the opening. Panic overcame him as the light engulfed him, and he closed his eyes.

  Then he couldn’t breathe. His damned lungs refused to take in the precious air he needed.

  “Did the whole building collapse on top of me? Am I going to die? I can’t die like this. I have… I have people to return to.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Chris tried to force his body to move, but to no avail. There was nothing he could do, only await the release of death. His last thoughts were of the people he missed.

  “I’m sorry, Arwenwel, Soa, father and mother.”

  Then air began to fill his lungs. It wasn’t his fate to die now — not right now. Fate, as cruel as it was, still needed him. So, for today, it gave him a small jolt of life, but who knew what it would take back later as compensation.

  “Look, it worked. He’s breathing.”

  “Quickly, give him space to breathe.”

  Some muffled voices were talking, but Chris couldn’t make out who they belonged to.

  A splitting headache woke him up; his world was shaking from side to side. He groaned.

  “What happened? Why are we shaking? I think I’m going to puke.”

  “If you are going to do it, do it outside.”

  For a few seconds, his mind was struggling to remember the voice before the memory snapped just right.

  “Is that you, Jun-Bok?”

  “Told you. Now pay up.”

  “A deal is a deal.”

  “You too, Young-Pil? Did you two follow me into death?”

  Their laughter almost burst Chris’s eardrums.

  “Enough, you two, what is so funny?”

  “Neither you nor we are dead. Don’t you remember the plan?”

  “I… I can’t remember.”

  “Oh! That sounds like one of the aftereffects.”

  “One, are there even more!?”

  “Not that many… maybe a dozen more.”

  “How do I know if I have another?”

  The two guards faced him and answered in tandem.

  “You’ll know.”

  “This is not going to make me feel better.”

  Chris tried to raise himself, but collapsed onto his side.

  “What is going on? Why are we wobbling so much?”

  Young-Pil answered him.

  “Easy, the road is bad.”

  “Road? What road? Help a friend remember, would you?”

  “Ok, ok.” This time, Jun-Bok answered. “Short story, the clan head and you planned to fake your death, then we dinged you up, brought you back, and here we are now. On the road like three good buddies.”

  “I’m thankful for your explanation, but I still need the long story.”

  “You do it, Young-Pil. I told my side of the story, but someone doesn’t like it.”

  He covered his eyes with his hat and, just like that, fell asleep.

  “Don’t mind him, he was never good at retelling stories. You should see him debriefing his missions; one time, I almost saw Jin-Mu pop a vessel from anger.”

  Chris looked around.

  “Is he here with us?”

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t follow us.”

  “Unfortunately? Man, you really need to bring me up to date.”

  “The clan head secretly came into our chambers in the dead of the night, telling us the truth about you and our young master.”

  “You mean barged.” Jun-Bok talked from behind his hat.

  “And you should be asleep.” Young-Pil gave him a stern look.

  As quickly as he intervened, Jun-Bok began to snore.

  “As I was saying, the clan head came and told us the whole truth and the plan to make you disappear….”

  —The day before—

  “Now what?”

  “Now,”

  The air around Baek Cheon-Do grew heavy.

  “You’ll die.”

  “What?!”

  Baek Cheon-Do shuffled through his pocket before stretching his closed fist towards Chris. Chris panicked and took a few steps back until he hit the wall behind.

  “Easy, now, I’m not going to hurt you, see.”

  Baek Cheon-Do opened his fist, and in it was a set of two pills. He plucked one of them and gave it to Chris.

  “These are the Life-Death Pills. If you take the Death Pill, you go into an induced slumber; your heartbeat slows down until you’ll seem dead, but you have to be careful. If you are not given its twin, the Life Pill, in time, your body will shut down. So what are you going to do? You can either fake your death or try to escape.”

  “Is there a way to escape unseen?”

  “Follow the end of the tunnel through which we came, and you can get out of the manor, but I won’t encourage you.”

  “It sounds easier to just leave through the tunnel.”

  “It is, but you forgot one thing: you’ve been caught impersonating the young master of the Baek clan. I, as the clan head, can’t turn a blind eye towards your escape, and I’ll have to send my warriors to bring you back alive or… dead. How does that sound?”

  “I’ll take the pills, if you don’t mind.”

  “Good choice. Now before you…”

  Chris had already swallowed it and immediately fell on his face.

  —Back to the present—

  “…then he instructed us to dig you up and give you the pill. The sleeping beauty over there bet that you’ll wake up in a few days. I always tell him to stop gambling, and he never wins, as you remember.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Young-Pil flicked the reins.

  “Someone has to drive the wagon.”

  Chris frowned.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Young-Pil glanced back at him.

  “You mean after we learned the truth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Truthfully, I don’t know. If I have to choose, it must be that meal.”

  “What meal?”

  “The one you chose to share as equal with us.” Then Young-Pil turned and knocked the hat from Jun-Bok’s eyes. “Stop pretending and tell him.”

  “Fine, that’s the same for me.”

  “See, it wasn’t that hard.”

  “Shut it! Now I’m really going to sleep.” He recovered his hat and turned over on his left side.

  “Don’t mind him, he isn’t good at showing his feelings.”

  “But… you two left your old life for this.”

  “We are still part of the Baek family; for the moment, we have left for a mission. Let’s begin again. My name is Young-Pil, and he is Jun-Bok.”

  “My name is Chris.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Chris. So where should we head?”

  “I have a slight idea, but didn’t your master hand you a fancy box?”

  “I almost forgot about it. You can find it in the chest behind you.”

  As he opened it, Chris found the box and a few more things, and beside it was a letter. Chris skimmed the letter before slipping it into his pocket.

  “I know where we are going next. Our next destination is the Flying Crane.”

  “Back to the city it is then.”