2026
Mashhad, Iran
The city no longer resembled a city.
It looked more like a wounded creature still breathing, losing a little more of itself each day.
Parsa walked along the sidewalk, an empty shopping bag in hand, his mind set on a simple destination: the corner grocery store. Just a can of beans. Nothing unusual. It was the small things that had now become dreams.
A few steps from the shop, his eyes fell on an old man standing by the wall, quietly asking passersby for help.
He neither shouted nor begged.
He looked… too neat.
Clean clothes, shoes still holding their shape. Parsa paused instinctively.
Was he really poor?
Or just another actor playing a part?
Judging by appearances was risky—he knew that. But the price of those clothes, with the dollar rising every day, came to millions of tomans.
Maybe he had borrowed them… Parsa didn't know.
Still, he would help.
Few people stopped by the old man. Everyone was struggling themselves.
The dollar had passed 130,000 tomans, and life was ruthlessly slamming many to the ground.
Rice had become scarce.
Potatoes sold for 200,000 tomans per kilogram.
Even those who still smiled carried a single prayer in their hearts:
God, let 2026 not get worse than this.
Parsa was fifteen.
Nothing special, nothing strange. A boy with dark brown eyes, black hair, an ordinary face. The kind of person you might forget after passing by… unless, sometime later, he played a significant role in your life.
A bright student. Good grades, tolerable manners, and an old habit of helping others.
He stood 1.75 meters tall—taller than most of his peers.
After finishing his shopping, he changed his route.
Time to go to Mr. Naderi's house…
That entrusted item.
The item in Parsa's hands was a simple toy, a birthday gift for Mr. Naderi's five-year-old daughter.
The little girl was so curious that if the toy stayed home, her birthday would be spoiled. So, Mr. Naderi had entrusted it to Parsa.
Complete trust.
Parsa entered the parking lot, ran up the stairs two at a time, dropped off the groceries, grabbed the toy, and ran back down.
His parents had died years ago.
He lived with his grandparents. A big family, but two seats were always empty.
He opened the garage door and ran toward the villa across the street. He rang the bell.
"Hello, Parsa dear, how are you?"
Mrs. Naderi's voice came through the intercom.
"Hello, Mrs. Naderi. I'm fine, thanks. I brought your daughter's gift."
"Oh… thank you. I'll be there in a moment."
Moments later, Mrs. Naderi appeared at the door.
Her smile was as neat and calm as her appearance.
"Thank you, you went through the trouble."
"It was my duty… you've done things for me I could never repay in my lifetime."
Mrs. Naderi smiled.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin. Her beauty was quiet, neither striking nor flashy.
Parsa always respected it in his heart. Nothing more.
Suddenly, a voice called from behind him.
"Parsa!"
It was Baran.
The eldest daughter of the Naderi family.
Someone who had grown up alongside Parsa, a friend who had always been there… even when you didn't realize you needed them.
"You seem full of energy today… something happened?"
Baran smiled.
"Well, I saw you today… and it's my sister's birthday too."
You saw me yesterday too…
Parsa didn't say it. He only thought it.
"Alright… I won't bother you."
"Take care, Parsa dear. Say hi to your family for me."
"Goodbye… see you later."
Parsa waved and turned away.
Baran's appearance resembled her mother's—simple and beautiful.
And that simplicity was its most dangerous part.
When he finally reached home, he went straight to his room and collapsed onto his bed.
His eyes hadn't fully closed when his phone rang.
A video call.
Amir.
"Bro, where are you? I came to the library at Seventeenth of Shahrivar Square… is this the book we were looking for? I forgot the name, but I think this is it."
Parsa rubbed his eyes.
"Damn… it's noon?"
"Yeah. Is this it?"
"Yes. That's it."
"What is Reincarnation and how does it work? Such a simple name… By the way, how are you? You look sleepy."
"I was falling asleep."
Amir paused.
He knew Parsa. He knew waking him wasn't a good idea.
"Sorry, bro… didn't think you'd be asleep."
"No problem. I'm sleeping… you okay?"
"Yeah. Good noon. Bye."
The call ended.
1435
Arskana
Karamesh – Europe
Thick fog swallowed the streets.
Harry suddenly woke up.
Breathless.
"…My God."
The dream hadn't been frightening.
It had been strange.
He had seen a city that didn't exist.
He had heard a name he had never known.
Mashhad… Iran.
"Was that… the future?"
His mind was still caught in images that refused to fade.
Advanced science, a distant city, a time that hadn't yet come.
Or maybe… it had come.
To be continued…