Chapter 1: The Forgotten One
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Pain...
It surged through every nerve in his body, a relentless fire consuming him from within. A sensation so raw, so unbearable, that for the first few moments of his awakening, he thought he was being ripped apart. His body, frail from years of neglect, screamed in agony with every twitch of his fingers, every shallow breath he took. His entire existence condensed into suffering, as if the universe itself was rejecting him.
A muffled groan escaped his lips, barely more than a breath, swallowed by the stagnant air of the alleyway. His fingers twitched against the cold pavement, scraping against its rough, uneven surface. The air was thick with the stench of rot and damp concrete. His mind was sluggish, disoriented, drowning in fog. But through the haze, one thought clawed its way to the surface—he had to move.
The moment he pulled himself up, dizziness threatened to drag him back down. His arms trembled, his legs ached, yet he staggered forward, one painful step at a time. Something was wrong. He had always been someone with little presence, easily overlooked, but this—this was different. He wasn’t just invisible. He wasn’t even felt.
People passed by, their gazes never landing on his hunched figure. He reached out, desperate, his trembling fingers brushing against the sleeve of a passing woman. The moment her eyes flickered toward him, a glimmer of recognition surfaced. But then—nothing. The instant she blinked, her gaze slid past him as if he had never existed.
His breath quickened. Desperate, he tried again. A child clung to their mother’s hand, walking nearby. He knelt, waving a shaking hand in front of the kid’s wide eyes. No reaction. No hesitation. The child’s gaze moved right through him. His heart pounded. A food delivery guy rushed past on a scooter, nearly clipping his shoulder. He shouted—loud, desperate—but the man didn’t even flinch.
The more people ignored him, the more the cold truth sank in. Something was deeply, terrifyingly wrong.
He staggered back, his chest tightening. The world around him blurred. His mind felt sluggish, thoughts slipping through his grasp like sand. Think… Think… But nothing made sense. He felt disconnected, like his mind and body were on different planes of existence. Yet, despite the pain, despite the fear, he forced himself to move. He had to understand. He needed to understand.
He turned, his feet dragging toward the nearest building—a small clinic. The automatic doors slid open at his approach, a silent invitation. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed dully, the waiting area half-filled with patients. His breath hitched as he took a hesitant step forward.
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Not a single head turned.
His fingers curled into his palms, nails digging into skin. The truth hovered on the edge of his thoughts, unformed, ungraspable. He walked toward the reception desk, his footsteps echoing like distant ghosts. Still, no one noticed. The receptionist’s fingers tapped against the keyboard, her gaze fixed on the screen in front of her. He opened his mouth, about to say something—anything—when his gaze drifted past her.
To the glass door beside the counter.
His reflection.
A strangled noise caught in his throat. His fingers trembled as they reached up, but he hesitated—afraid. The glass was slightly warped, but he could tell—something was wrong.
And then, his hand made contact with his face.
He crumbled to the ground. The weight of the revelation crushed him, and he collapsed, pressing his forehead against the cold floor. He had always lived as if he were invisible, forgotten, but this—this was beyond loneliness. This was a complete erasure.
“No… This can’t be…” he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. He clawed at his own skin, desperate to wake up from this nightmare. But it was real. Too real.
A scream tore from his throat—raw, desperate, the kind of scream meant to shatter reality itself. He slammed his fists against the glass, his reflection fracturing into jagged shards at his feet. His breathing came in ragged gasps, his thoughts unraveling. "What am I? Why am I like this?"
And then, from the darkest corners of his mind, a voice whispered—not in words, but in feeling: I don’t want this.
His lingering thoughts clawed their way out from the shadows, dragging him down, forcing him to face the truth. Though he had never truly tried to live, he had never wished for death either. He had merely existed, waiting for his life to end as naturally as it had begun, without effort. But now… now, that wasn’t an option.
He wanted to live, desperately struggling to remember how did he even felt when he's alive.
For a fleeting second, in the shattered glass at his feet, his reflection flickered—his human self, as he remembered it, whole and alive. But before he could grasp it, the world around him twisted, his vision darkening. His body wavered, struggling against the weight of his realization.
Thump… thump…
A sound. Faint, distant, yet persistent.
His breath hitched.
His body trembled, but the sound remained. Steady. Undeniable. Was it real? Or just another cruel trick of his unraveling mind?
Darkness swallowed him before he could find the answer.
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To be continued…