There is a student apartment complex at Bleekstraat 24, 9134 BA in the town of Groningen in the Netherlands. It is a red and blue colored complex of stacked shipping containers, refurbished as 25 square feet studios— complete with a bathroom and kitchen.
With the lights on after dark, it resembles a prison more than an apartment complex— but during sunrise, when shafts of light stream in through the walkways and stairs in the open air, it looks like a breathtakingly beautiful prison.
In room number 5 of that complex, situated on the ground floor, the lights were off and the curtains drawn— shrouding the room in a comfortable darkness. Hugging the wall at one end of the room was a small white shelf, with a phone resting in front of a neatly arranged section of books:
1984
The Three Body Problem
JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure
Man’s Search for Meaning
Power and Progress: Our Thousand-Year Struggle over Technology and Prosperity
The Buddha and His Teachings
Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint
Fire Punch
BLAME!
Lord of the Mysteries.
The shelf and its myriad of books was at the foot of a bed, on top of which was a boy sleeping in an awkward position.
The phone lit up and an alarm blared, making the sheets rustle. The boy’s eyes slowly parted and he stood up and walked half-awake like a zombie. Picking up the phone, he hit snooze and fell back onto his bed.
Immediately his phone blared again, causing him to lift his head and stare at it in confusion. Did he not just hit snooze? But it wasn’t the alarm. Somebody— a certain ‘Rian’ — was calling him.
“Yeah?” The boy’s voice was coarse.
“Get up, get up. We gotta leave in 30 minutes.” Rian said.
“30 minutes?” The boy croaked, “Yeah, I’ll meet you outside.”
And with that, the call was cut, and the boy went back to bed. It seemed like only a few seconds had passed but he sat up and picked his phone, navigating to a website as per habit. When the ‘next chapter’ button on the website was grayed out, he grumbled. Today as well, there was no new chapter.
Lazily he got ready, and as he brushed his teeth and took a shower, the grogginess gradually disappeared. He put on his best shirt, put a spritz of cologne on the back of his neck and another on his chest, and picked up his bag.
Before he could put his hand through the strap, there was a knock on the door, which made him pull the curtains. The sunshine flowing into the room was like shining copper on his brown skin and made his wavy black hair glisten. He opened the door and welcomed the visitor with a stupid grin on his face: A tall brown-skinned boy wearing a cap and glasses— Rian Frankfurt.
“Man…” The boy, Yaaro Ilay, slowly shook his head, “Who’s idea was it to drink that much, that late at night?”
Rian chuckled, “I think it was Yokuttan. I hope he makes it to the station.”
“Nah, he should be fine, he has good experience with sleep deprivation.” Yaaro remarked.
“Yeah you’re right. Let’s leave?”
“Sure.” Yaaro locked the door behind him and couldn’t help but smile.
It was sunny but not oppressively so. The weather in the Netherlands was really bipolar. One day it could be 20 celsius and the very next it could be 5; but now it was a pleasant 18 degrees.
“Weather’s good too. Not like the last time.” Yaaro remarked.
“Yeah, the weather last time was horrible.”
“Weather here is always horrible, what’re you on about?”
The two walked to the train station, conversing about mundane matters without substance. Whenever it was just the two of them, conversations like this would be sure to occur. But the two enjoyed it, talking and listening intently, and sometimes offering an opinion, or a piece of advice.
Before they knew it, they reached the station. Yaaro threw a glance to the side and his gaze stayed there.
“I’ll be back, hold on.” Yaaro said after a few moments. Rian said nothing as he watched Yaaro walk to an old woman at the ticket machine. Although their conversation was not audible, from Yaaro’s smile and gentle mannerisms, he could infer the issue. The old woman had a wide smile on her wrinkly face as she repeatedly nodded.
Yaaro jogged back, “Her OV card wasn’t working so I helped her load some money.”
“I see.”
The two continued side by side, and soon enough, four figures waved at them in the distance. Yaaro cast a glance at Rian— who tried his darndest to hide a smile,
“You can smile bro. Seeing your wife after a week must be tough.”
Rian dug his elbow at Yaaro’s ribs, “You’re the only one who keeps saying that. She’s just a good friend.”
Yaaro chuckled, “Ah… The start of any good relationship. Well, when it happens, make Yokuttan and me your best men at the wedding.”
Rian chuckled and brushed the topic away as they drew closer. The good friend the two talked about— Astoria— eyed them suspiciously with her arms crossed. She had long silky black hair and brown skin the color of milk chocolate.
Before any of the three standing by her side could greet the two, she questioned,
“What were you guys talking about?”
“You think we were talking about you?” Rian asked, teasing.
“Oh-ho. So you weren’t talking about me. Then why were you two looking and smiling at me?”
“Oh my God. They’ve started.” A dark-skinned girl next to them, Lavanya, said— it seemed she was always ready to smile. She turned to Yaaro, “Hi. Ready?”
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“I’m ready, but wow. Lavanya I didn’t know you were friends with a model.“ Yaaro asked, pointing to their fair-skinned friend who stood by them— Sangria. Her wide eyes grew even wider as she exclaimed in her usual animated tone.
“Wow Yaaro, that’s the first nice thing I’ve heard you say ever.”
Black track pants, a black hoodie and black hair in a bobcut. Even though she was dressed simply, she possessed an undeniable charm.
“Yes, I’ve heard being a hand model is hard work.”
Sangria’s brows narrowed in confusion before relaxing in realization. She hit the laughing Yaaro in the shoulder repeatedly, to which he exclaimed with delight
“Don’t ruin your hands!”
Once the beating was done, he turned to the grinning person who had yet to open his mouth— Yokuttan. With his large glasses, puffy afro, light skin and a wide grin, he looked like a hipster in training.
“Mr. Hand model. You won’t talk with us huh?” said Yaaro, patting Yokuttan on the back and bringing him closer to the group.
“Yeah Yokuttan how was your hand modeling gig? I totally forgot about that.” Astoria asked.
“You were with him for all this time and you didn’t ask him?” Rian clicked his tongue, “What a good friend.”
His reply was a slap on the shoulder.
Yokuttan answered. “It was pretty interesting. They manicured my hands and washed it two or three times.”
“Alright, let’s get on the train?” Rian said, to which everyone agreed.
The group boarded the train, sitting in a sparsely filled carriage, laughing and enjoying some good banter. Whenever the boisterous group got too loud, one of them— Rian or Astoria, would motion for everyone to lower their voices, only for them to rise back after fifteen minutes.
An hour after the train had departed, there was a lull in the conversation. At which point Yaaro and Yokuttan excitedly talked.
“The worldbuilding in the webnovel is top notch, best I’ve ever seen. But otherwise it’s the shittiest dog shit I’ve ever read. The pacing is god awful. You know, for the first 100 chapters, he’s just playing detective! And he’s not even solving any cases! He’s just going home, and then to the station, and then coming back. It only gets mildly interesting from chapter 600 bro, it’s insane.” Yaaro rambled.
“I don’t understand man. You say it’s bad but you’ve read all 1400 chapters right. So something about it is good.” Yokuttan replied.
“Yeah, the worldbuilding and some of the characters are the best I’ve ever seen. Also there’s a lot of mystery. It’s called Ruler of Mysteries for a reason.”
Yaaro turned to Astoria who looked at them with an amused expression, “What’re you smiling about.”
Astoria did half her talking with her hands. She pointed at herself and said in an exasperated tone, “I’m not smiling! I’m just curious what you guys are talking about.”
“Do you really want to know?” Yaaro asked.
“Yes.” Astoria replied.
“Ok. Open question to all of you then.” Yaaro said as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Everyone glanced at him, “If you were transported to another world with magic, what would you do?”
“I mean…I’d probably just live a normal life.” Yokuttan answered.
“Bro gets isekai’d and wants to live a normal life. Very nice Yokutta, what about you Rian?” Yaaro asked.
“I’d try to get back home. I love my family too much to chill in another world.” Ryan said.
“Fair enough, I would probably stay. I’d also get a harem hehehehe” Yaaro chuckled devilishly. “Nah but I don’t think you guys understand. It’s magic. It can do whatever you want! It—”
“Oh speaking of magic, did you guys see those videos of someone flying?” Lavanya asked.
“Yeah I saw it.” Rian said, “Honestly it looked pretty real to me.”
“Man, it’s Unreal Engine 5. Trust me, it can get very, very realistic.” Yokuttan replied.
“But it looked like it was taken from a camera, with all the… what do you call it.” Lavanya motioned her hands around,
“Camera shake?” Sangria replied.
“Yes. That.”
Yaaro said, “I think it’s real. Atleast, it’s cool to believe that things like this are real.”
His attention was momentarily drawn by the door swinging open. A boisterous group of rough-looking men entered the carriage, speaking loudly and bordering on yelling. Instantly the conversation became subdued, with some of the girls throwing nervous glances at the men.
And when they sat down, they only became louder.
Although Yaaro was quite lively in conversing, he occasionally threw glances at the rowdy group and noticed that they looked over here quite a bit. A foreboding sensation took root in his heart. And that sensation materialized when a shrill whistle sounded in the compartment.
The girls looked at the group uncomfortably, which elicited their cheers and laughter. One of them, the person who had whistled, said something to them. Although they couldn’t understand him, his sleazy voice and their piercing stares made them shift in their seats and throw uncomfortable glances at each other.
Rian was about to get up from his seat when Yokuttan spoke, “Let’s go somewhere else.”
Hastily, they took their baggage and walked down the aisle to mocking laughter and even more sneers.
Yaaro hurriedly shut the door to the compartment and followed his friends to another, quieter compartment. The group took their seats and resumed their lively conversation— free of worry.
But something was different: the conversation had one less participant. Said participant had been silently looking outside the window ever since they changed compartments.
“Yaaro what’s up? Why’re you so silent?” Lavanya asked.
“... Huh?” He turned to his friends, and immediately was caught by their gazes. All at once, they looked at him, making him uncomfortably shift in his seat, “It looks so beautiful outside, so I was just admiring it.”
Yokuttan looked out the window, “But it’s just farms?”
Yaaro turned back, and indeed it was just empty farmland with not a distinctive feature, “Yeah… It’s just farms.”
He stood up, “I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be back.”
And he quickly made his exit, shutting himself off in the bathroom. Through his feet he could feel the gentle sway of the train as it moved on the tracks. He looked in the mirror and saw a wavy-haired figure in a fitting black shirt and black slacks staring back at him.
With a slim silver chain gracing his neck and a silver bracelet around his brown wrists, the figure looked quite dashing, but he never met its eyes. The figure’s head hung low, and his voice was quiet like a whisper.
“I couldn’t do anything…”
A fist abruptly shot up, before slowly dropping back down.
“Fucking useless…”
He said, with a defeated murmur.
Aside from the low rumble of the train on the tracks, it was silent in the small bathroom. Slowly, he removed his chain and bracelet, and stuffed them into his pocket. He looked at the figure in the mirror, unable to meet its eyes.
And then the lights flickered.
He murmured to himself, “Why are the…”
There was a low rumble in the train, and it shook more than usual.
Yaaro’s brows furrowed and he stood unmoving, waiting for any more unusual signs. But there were none… With a relieved sigh, he admonished himself for thinking of various implausible scenarios.
Rumble… Rumble…
A deep rumble rocked the train and an invisible wave passed through his body, somehow nudging every atom in his body without exerting any pressure. Panicked sounds leaked through the bathroom door.
Yaaro’s heart pounded in his chest.
Is it an Earthquake?
He swung open the bathroom door and hurried to the cabin where his friends were. Streams of passengers rushed past with panicked expressions, making Yaaro’s own expression contort with fear.
What the hell is happening?
If it was an earthquake there was no point in moving compartments. And then Yaaro’s heart dropped. He’d seen it on the news a few times and was too afraid to think of the word.
Terro…rists?
As the crowd thinned, he noticed something bizarre.
What… is happ…ening…
His thoughts were slowing down.
His legs felt like iron and so did his hands. It was as if moving through an increasingly thick muck. Even moving his hands to grab the door handle was a great effort.
Wh…at…
Unbelievably, his movements were turning sluggish. There was still one more cabin before he reached his friends and a cold feeling sprouted in his heart. But even that sensation was slow to take hold. He would have panicked if his body was normal, but even realizing the need to panic was slow.
And then his heartbeat sped up and his vision abruptly became black. A cold, crushing sensation enveloped every part of him and what was worse, he knew this feeling.
He was deep underwater.