Saō Hyun stood up.
He didn't know why.
He didn't think, I will escape.
He didn't think, I want to live.
He simply… stood.
His legs hurt, yet they moved on their own,
as if the ground itself had become a place where sitting was no longer allowed.
He looked back.
The manor was there.
But it was no longer a manor.
It was a place without sound.
He thought to himself:
If I go back… will they be angry?
Or will they not see me at all?
He waited.
Nothing answered.
In the simple way a child understands things, he realized:
Those who do not move… do not respond.
So he walked.
---
He slipped out through a narrow opening in the wall.
The stone scraped his skin. He felt blood.
He stopped.
Looked at his hand.
The blood was red.
His father's blood had been red.
So… mine is the same.
He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad one.
He wiped his hand on his clothes and ran.
He didn't know where he was going.
But he knew one thing:
Here… people die.
He ran faster.
His breath burned.
His chest felt like it was on fire.
Why is my heart beating like this?
Is it afraid?
Or is it trying to escape?
He stopped at the mountain.
The Mountain of the Silent Rock.
He looked at it.
It was quiet.
He thought:
The mountain doesn't scream.
The mountain didn't run.
But the mountain wasn't killed.
He thought a little longer.
If I stay still… will nothing happen to me?
Then he remembered.
He remembered his father.
Standing.
Then falling.
So he said quickly:
No… standing doesn't save you.
And he began to climb.
---
The stones were cold.
He fell more than once.
His knee bled.
He cried without sound and whispered:
I said I would escape…
why does the road hurt so much?
He heard something.
He stopped.
A strange sound.
He turned.
Wolves.
Three of them.
He didn't scream.
He didn't run.
He just looked at them.
And thought, with terrifying innocence:
Are you hungry too?
One of the wolves stepped forward.
Saō Hyun stepped back.
If they eat me… will I end?
Or will I keep thinking?
He ran.
He ran hard.
He fell.
Got up.
Fell again.
The wolves drew closer.
He heard their breathing.
Now he was crying.
"I don't want to die…
I haven't played enough…"
One wolf leapt.
At that moment, he saw a stone.
He grabbed it with both hands.
He screamed:
"Don't touch me!!!"
And threw it.
The stone struck the wolf's head.
It fell.
Silence.
He stared at it.
It didn't move.
He approached slowly.
Touched it with a small stick.
Nothing.
He whispered, barely audible:
"It's not playing anymore."
He sat down.
Stared at his hands.
I… broke it?
Something heavy settled in his stomach.
Not sadness.
Not happiness.
Something new.
He told himself, like a child trying to understand:
If I strike first… I don't die.
That was his first thought.
It was not wisdom.
It was a wound.
---
He tried to run again.
His leg would no longer carry him.
He stumbled.
His foot slipped.
He screamed.
He fell from the cliff.
And in that moment of falling, he did not think of death.
He thought of only one thing:
Why didn't anyone run away with me?
Then—
Darkness.