Jack emerged from under the bed, brushing off the dust from his coat, and directed his attention towards Silas. He raised his hand and gently placed it over the boy's face, closing his own eyes.

"This is an ancient technique that has been passed down through generations for eons," Jack explained. His raised arm trembled slightly.

"Today, I'm going to teach it to all of you, so pay close attention."

Jack's words, coupled with his serious expression, managed to restore some of the lost confidence.

Elea held Ben in her arms, comforting the crying boy, while hoping that their teacher would be able to calm Silas down. She wasn't sure how long Jack had been lurking there or how he had arrived, but his immediate action gave her some assurance that he had some understanding of the situation.

Elem's poker face made it hard to decipher his true thoughts; he appeared calm and composed. Comparing him to Dustin was like comparing night and day. Dustin wore a look of annoyance on his face, still upset about Jack's sudden appearance and the scare he had caused.

Meanwhile, the twins stood transfixed, captivated by their teacher's demonstration, eager to absorb his every word.

The tremor in Jack's arm spread throughout his entire body, shaking as if he had just emerged from a pool of ice-cold water.

"You need to summon all your energy and then..."

-Slap

Jack swiftly slapped Silas' trembling face without hesitation, leaving a faint imprint of his palm on the boy's cheek. He then closed his eyes and nodded. "That's how it's done."

Elea leaped onto the bed, her face filled with concern. "Why did you—!"

She didn't finish her sentence, as Silas had ceased his movements; his pain-stricken face had relaxed. He now appeared as he did every other night when he slept, not that she had ever watched him sleep before.

Dustin's mouth fell open, stunned for a different reason. Jack had taken his idea. He was the one who had suggested it, and that sneaky baldy must have overheard him earlier while hiding under the bed.

"Elea, dear Elea... do you still doubt your teacher? I'm a man of my word, and when I tell you to relax, I mean it."

Jack had already turned his attention to the other beds. "Hmm, they don't seem to require my technique."

The two children within his view slept soundly, showing no signs of waking up anytime soon, and that was how it should be. Typically, after such an experience, one would remain in a state of deep slumber for a while, at least a few hours after the first time. Jack had never heard of a case before, where someone woke up immediately.

What could be considered abnormal about Silas?

The question perplexed him, as he hadn't noticed anything particularly unusual about Silas before. At least, nothing that stood out completely, excluding his origin. He would have to look carefully at Silas' condition after he woke up.

Jack recalled the moment he received the news. He had been on a date with a stunning woman, enjoying their time together in a cozy corner of a small café. However, their encounter was interrupted when an unknown man approached him, handing him a letter. Initially, he couldn't comprehend the letter's contents, but upon reading it a second time, he was utterly shocked.

The shock was so intense that he unintentionally spat out the water he was about to swallow, which ended up on the woman's top. He remembered her startled expression quickly turning to anger. Fury suited her well.

But could he be blamed for receiving such a letter? Could he be held responsible for his three adorable children who went for a walk in danger zone red? Could he be faulted for simply taking a sip of water at that precise moment? Could he be held accountable for the outcome of her top turning see-through when wet?

The obvious answer to all these questions was a resounding no.

At the very least, he was bewildered not only by the letter's contents but also by the unexpected transparency of her top. Unfortunately, he didn't have the chance to appreciate the sight, as she retaliated by pouring her coffee in his face.

It had a bitter taste.

Such is life— an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Spit on a girl's chest, and she throws coffee in your face—a principle of equivalent exchange.

While his thoughts derailed, it appeared to the children as if he were lost in space, occasionally displaying a peculiar expression on his face.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Creeeep. Should we knock him out too?" one of the children whispered.

"How long will he stay like this?" another chimed in.

"I bet 5 on 10."

"5 on 11."

"You idiot!"

The children had grown accustomed to seeing him in this state. Whenever his mind became consumed by a particular topic, he would zone out, unresponsive to his surroundings. The twins even made a game out of it, placing bets on how long he would remain in this state.

Elea turned to Elem. "What should we do know?"

"What can we do? The only people who know what's going on are either asleep or absent-minded." Elem replied. "I guess we can only stay patient."

---

It's incredibly dark here, so impenetrable that I can't even see my own body when I look down. I raise my hand in front of my face, but it disappears into the void, devoured by the abyss.

Everything is engulfed in darkness, and I struggle to distinguish between opening and closing my eyelids. The only sound I perceive is the unsettling silence that surrounds me. I try to speak, but no words escape my lips; there's no air to carry the vibrations of my voice. Strangely, I don't feel discomfort despite the absence of breathable air.

In this disorienting silence, I wander aimlessly, unsure of where the darkness ends. I search for an exit, but no matter how far I walk, nothing changes. There's no glimmer of light at the end of this unknown tunnel if it even exists.

What's most peculiar, however, is not the darkness, the silence, or the void I find myself in—it's the inexplicable sense of comfort I feel. It's difficult to describe, akin to the feeling of returning home after a long and arduous day, slipping into the warmth of familiar bedsheets. Yet, this place is foreign to me; I have no recollection of ever being here before.

Time eludes me as moments blur together. Minutes might as well span epochs, and days could dissolve into fleeting heartbeats. Counting seconds seems pointless, as it would only serve to further bore me to death if that's even possible.

Perhaps I am dead.

If that's the case, the obligatory question arises: How did I die? Yet, such details no longer seem to matter. Strangely, I find myself relieved, more so than I should be.

So, this is the resting place of my soul—a boundless expanse of darkness. I had never contemplated the afterlife before, but this certainly wasn't what I envisioned. It feels... underwhelming.

I continue my endless journey, without direction, pondering why I'm here and what I could possibly do. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion washes over me. Why do I suddenly feel so tired? My body or soul feels heavy, tempting me to rest.

Perhaps I'll find something – anything – after a brief nap, or maybe I won't and this endless darkness will persist. Either way, there's a sense of powerlessness.

You really love to seek death.

A voice echoes in my mind, sounding eerily like my own. It feels as if I'm the one uttering or thinking those words, yet it couldn't possibly be me. If it's not me, then why does it feel like my own thoughts?

Confounded, I question the origin of this voice, doubting whether it truly knows my thoughts or merely conjectures them. But before I can ponder further, the voice offers an explanation.

This is a place where we both exist together, where we are one, so naturally, we are connected, the voice explained.

I'm astounded by this revelation, though doubt lingers. "Co-existing" and "being one" seems paradoxical to me. To test whether this entity truly knows my thoughts or is merely guessing, I pose a riddle for which I know the answer.

"Tell me, me, what can be filled to the brim and yet remain empty?"

...

The answer, of course, is a balloon. You can inflate it to its maximum volume, but the inside remains empty. One could argue that there's air inside, thus negating its emptiness, but where's the fun in that?

You fool, this isn't the time for games! And if you're going to pose riddles, at least choose one whose answer you don't know! We can hear each other's thoughts!

I was reprimanded. It's so dull here. Why don't you allow me to have a little fun every now and then? And what? Are you angry because you don't know the answer? By the way, calling myself a fool is truly insulting.

I was mistaken to warn you... Just go to sleep...

Apparently, the voice—whom I will, for now, recognize as my other self—was trying to warn me about something. I had no clue what he was referring to, but since he could read my thoughts, I hoped he would provide an answer.

Hmph. The sleep here is one you won't wake up from.

Even though I knew I shouldn't fall asleep in this place, I was still overcome with exhaustion. Surely, a short nap would be acceptable.

No.

Then how about just resting my eyes?

No.

What am I permitted to do here?

Wait.

Wait for what?

Until death passes by.

Our exchange only served to further confuse me. In other words, I was lost.

I can see that.

"..."

For a while, my other self remained silent. I took the opportunity to ponder who this other voice could be. I couldn't quite grasp its nature, but it was bothersome. Moreover, I didn't like it.

I can hear you... and I don't like you either.

"Oh, damn. This connection between our minds is annoying."

Once again, we stood in silence, or at least I did, unable to engage with my other self. I couldn't locate his presence; his voice always emerged directly in my head, leaving him concealed anywhere. Even though he claimed we were one, I couldn't simply trust any random voice that manifested in my mind.

I stopped searching for him and contemplated the answer he provided. What could he mean by "until death passes"? If death can pass, then we're not truly dead, right?

Yes, but also no.

"Stop answering randomly to my thoughts; please respect my privacy."

...

Calm down. I shouldn't be angered by myself in this place. Our objective, or rather mine, should be to escape this state.

"Hmm, wait. What does that mean? So, we are not dead?"

No, we have died, but we are still alive.

We are simultaneously dead and alive. Was this a riddle I had to solve now, his rebuttal to my earlier question? It felt as though I didn't receive a proper answer at all. I attempted a friendly approach, even though I realized he already knew my thoughts and that this was unnecessary. Still, it didn't feel right to have a conversation without forming clear sentences.

"I apologize if I upset you earlier. Can you help me?"

...

"Please... double please?"

It's time.

"For what?"

Here it comes.

"Who? What?"

Death.

*******************************

It's my first time trying the first-person perspective. Maybe I'll change that part in the future.

What do you guys think about it?