Lying on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, Ikku couldn’t shake the obsessive thought that kept returning: that conversation he’d overheard in the street about the four jewels.

He slowly sat up, scanning the dark, dilapidated room he called home. His old desk, cluttered with papers and dusty trinkets, held a computer almost as old as he was practically useless to most people.

Yet, it was his only window to the outside world.

He powered on the computer, which let out a faint creak before coming to life. The screen, scarred with lines of wear, flickered briefly before stabilizing. Ikku opened a browser and typed "Millennium" into the search bar.

The results appeared, and to his surprise, several forums and articles mentioned the legend.

Clicking feverishly on the first few links, he uncovered a collection of testimonies and stories that overlapped in strange ways.

Some spoke of the jewels’ ability to grant immense power to whoever united them. Others described the Millennium Quest, a perilous trial that had claimed the lives of countless adventurers.

One forum post in particular caught his attention. A user claimed to have met someone who had seen one of the jewels. A chill ran down Ikku's spine as he devoured the thread, his heart pounding in his chest. Every word seemed to make the legend feel more tangible, more real.

"The Millennium is more than just a myth… Some say the jewels are hidden across the far corners of the world, and one must be prepared to sacrifice far more than their life to find them."

Ikku leaned back, staring pensively at the screen. It all felt so surreal, and yet… something deep within him whispered that it was true. That this quest, as insane as it sounded, was his chance to escape his miserable existence.

He had nothing left to lose. His parents, his life here none of it made sense anymore. The faint sounds of arguing still seeped through the walls, but this time, he was determined not to listen.

Without further hesitation, Ikku stood abruptly, rummaging through his dusty wardrobe for an old backpack. He stuffed in some clothes, a notebook, a crumpled map, and anything else that might be useful for a journey whose destination he didn’t even know. With his bag ready, he cast one last look around his room.

This space that had been his refuge for so many years now felt suffocating, like a cage he was finally about to escape.

He hesitated for a moment at his bedroom door, listening to the faint echoes of his parents still arguing in the living room.

Without a word, without a tear, he turned, walked through the apartment silently, and opened the front door.

The outside world greeted him with an unexpected chill. Ikku felt strangely light, as if an immense weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

What he would do next, he didn’t yet know. But one thing was certain: he would never come back here.

Just as he stepped over the threshold, the cold air biting at his skin, he heard the door swing open behind him.

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“Hey! Where do you think you’re going, Ikku?”

His father’s raspy, trembling voice broke the silence of the night. Ikku stopped but didn’t turn around.

Heavy, stumbling footsteps echoed as his father drew closer. For a moment, Ikku hoped he wouldn’t follow him. That he’d finally leave him alone. But, of course, that was too much to ask.

“Are you listening to me, you little idiot? Huh?!” his father barked, now closer, a bottle of alcohol in hand, swaying under the weight of his drunkenness.

Ikku closed his eyes, biting back a sharp retort. He knew there was no point in arguing with a man so broken. Yet, when he opened his mouth to speak, a trace of hope still lingered in his voice:

“I’m leaving… I’m not coming back.”

For a second, silence fell. Then, a cruel laugh shattered the air, a sound so cutting it made Ikku’s resolve falter.

“And where does Mister Ikku Nemuri think he’s going, huh?”

Ikku hesitated but finally mustered the courage to respond:

“There’s nothing left for me here… I’m not happy in this life. I’ve decided to take control and change. I heard about the Millennium Quest, and I’m going to find those jewels. I’ll become the greatest hero in history.”

“You? Find the jewels?” his father sneered. “Don’t make me laugh! You’re nothing but a worthless fool, just like your mother! A hero? You couldn’t even save a stray dog!”

The words cut deeper than any blow. Ikku clenched his fists, his throat tightening under the weight of the insult. He took a step away, but his father wasn’t done yet. In one swift motion, he hurled the bottle at his son.

The bottle sailed through the air and struck Ikku squarely on the head. The pain was blinding, forcing a muffled cry from his lips as he collapsed to the ground. Warm blood trickled down his forehead, thick and sticky, each heartbeat hammering against the wound.

But the worst wasn’t the physical pain. It was the look in his father’s eyes pure contempt. He stood there, swaying but utterly lucid in his cruelty.

“Look at you… Pathetic. Better this way. Don’t come back! No one wants you here.”

Kneeling on the ground, blood mixing with tears, Ikku felt his heart shatter further. It wasn’t just the bottle that had broken him—it was everything.

The years of humiliation, the violence, the disdain. He knew if he stayed a second longer, he would never rise again.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, the pain throbbing in his temples. Without a word, without a glance, he began to walk away, his vision blurred with tears. He had to leave, to flee this hell.

As he disappeared into the night, he heard his father murmur something.

It was almost a whisper, a sound that made him pause, his heart pounding harder in his chest.

But he shook his head. It didn’t matter anymore. He would never return.

Ikku kept walking, determined never to look back again.