An average looking house made of wood and concrete --- well mostly concrete --- in a certain place of a poor but proud country, lived a certain ordinary person which has a face, that one can describe as "average".

The figure moved in a stretching motion on the bed while fumbling for something besides it's head. The seemingly unconcious figure rolled over ---

--- and fell.

"Fuck"

His name is Ross. Ross Fillipos.

Maybe it's the cold breeze that causes his reddened nose --- but obviously it's from the recent face-slap to the ground.

"It's cold"

After a moment, Jaemie rolled face-up while complaining in a muttered voice accompanied by the soft rustling of his pajamas. The slight smell of blood and dust entered his nose.

His nose is bleeding.

He moved his gaze lazily to the thing in his hands --- which is his phone --- to check the time.

It's still 11:45 pm and he just got woken up by the evil concrete floor and his unconcious stupidity.

While he can just leave his bruised nose bridge to naturally heal without cleaning it, Rossbwas fully awake now after plopping his face into the unpolished floor. He tossed his phone on the bed followed by the blanket that was clinging on his body and began to stand with bare feet and made a beeline to the front of an empty looking cabinet hanging on the wall, that is placed besides the edge of his cushioned bed.

Ross is one of the humble filipinos in his country. After a long struggle due to financial problems, he now gained success by doing illustration and concept arts for random clients because of his determination.

Ross kept walking until reaching his destination. He lay his hands on the handle and yanked it open only to saw it was empty. The thing that he want is nowhere to be found.

Maybe i used it already from the couple of days ago ...or was it just yesterday? He did a quick check of his body to see if the bondage was still in his body somewhere, to indicate that he just used it yesterday. After realizing that there was no bondage to be found, he dropped the matter then turned and glanced at his undecorated, but precious room.

Ross' gaze focused on the thing on the corner of the room opposite to his cabinet, which is a computer and a plugged drawing tablet that is placed on a table. That computer was a gift for his 18th birthday from his mother that Ross still used today, whether it's for entertainment or for work. He is planning to buy a new computer for the next month if the flow of his clients were consistent for the next several weeks. On the other side of the bed, a cabinet with daily and formal clothes stood there. Nothing interesting.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

He walked back to his bed ---that was pushed to the wall--- and sat on its edge. With a bleary eyes, Ross' gaze wandered over the small room approximately 400 square feet that he now owns and stare at the art materials he uses for request in traditional media --- the unprimed canvas, primers, easel, a round cotton padded chair, assortment of oil paints and brushes, and an unfinished painting which looked like a blurred black bird, but he knew it looked like that because it was still unfinished.

"Mhm"

He looked down to the ground and tried to remember his hardships and triuphms in life --- the struggle of earning enough popularity on the internet to sell my services combined with my mother's refusal on my decision dropping college, which is acceptable for a worried parent. Memories flowed to his mind that make that he unconciously quirk up his lip to a smile. He is 21 now, dropped college and start to freelance with art. Ross loved art since he was 7 years old. Even if it's just doodle from imagination that he make, he still feel proud about it. He is known as one of the gifted artist that gained popularity with a username 'RossPotato'.

Well it looked like an unsatisfying way of living for others if they knew how he lived. But for him, it's just what he wanted in life. While his skill is at a professional level there is still so much to learn which makes painting and designing more excited. By the help of Ross' talent, life is sustainable from when he moved out on his own 4 years ago. Ross' everyday life is mundane but maybe a little bit of adventure or travelling for quite some time is not bad, he tought. He can even have a wife if he want, but no one interests him for now.

After finishing some more toughts about mirrage and travels, Ross decided to continue sleeping. He closed his eyes before flopping lazily back to bed, ignoring the cold and not bothering to put a blanket or switch to a comfortable position.

His senses began to completely fade.

However, a choir of murmurs --- that began sounding like a chant --- suddenly surrounded his field of hearing that made his eye jerk open.

"Wha-!?"

The ceiling he expected to see was nowhere to be found. Instead, the surrounding become blindingly light that he refelxively squint, jolted upright and block the light entering his eyes with his right hand.

After a moment, the light promptly faded.

When Ross' eyes adjusted to normal, he tried to sweep his gaze from left to right and cannot help but feel anxious by the sudden realization that he was now in a different place --- away from his room --- judging by the overgrown trees that obscured his vision several steps away. He looked around frantically, but his possessions was nowhere to be found.

"What the hell happened!?"

Of course no one answered to his confused shout that almost sounded like a wail. 

Despite him freaking out on the sudden event, he keep the intense emotions boiling from his heart and stood. Ross surveyed the surrounding once again with a face showing a strong sense of fear and confusion.

The room had vanished.