What should I do?
What could I do?
Would my body even obey my command?
While my brain was busy arguing, my legs moved on their own. I knelt before her. Seeing me so close, a strange mix of shock and embarrassment flashed in her eyes.
I gently grasped her swollen right ankle. Instantly, a jolt of static electricity surged through my fingertips. A cold shiver ran down my spine as her warmth touched me. I felt like I was suffocating, but for the first time—I didn't retreat.
Suppressing the chaos in my chest, I spoke without looking at her.
"This might hurt, but it's necessary. If I leave it like this, the pain will settle into the bone. You might never walk properly again. So, bear with me."
A memory surfaced—a golden afternoon from my childhood. Dad had fixed my sprained ankle in the park just like this. Today, I was in his shoes. My grip tightened. The girl winced, a soft gasp escaping her lips.
"Ugh... it hurts!"
Ignoring her cry, I steeled my heart and gave her foot a sharp, practiced twist.
"AHHH...!!!"
Her piercing scream tore through the air.
I didn't stop. Carefully, I massaged her sole, feeling the pulse of her warm blood against my palm. Once finished, I immediately turned my back to her and reached my arms behind me.
My tongue felt heavy with awkwardness.
"Look... walking will take too long. We're already late. If you want... I mean, if you don't mind... you can get on my back."
I cursed myself instantly. The boy who gets a high-voltage shock just from a girl's shadow was now volunteering to carry a stranger! My right eye twitched with nerves; my ears felt like they were on fire.
The girl hesitated for a heartbeat. Then, her hand came to rest on my shoulder. Her light fragrance hit my senses again, but this time, I didn't black out. I held my ground.
As she shifted her full weight onto my back, a violent shiver raced down my spine. Her warm breath fanned against my earlobe.
"Are you ready?"
she whispered.
I swallowed hard.
"Yeah... hold on tight. We're racing against the clock now."
I stood up. She was lighter than I expected, or perhaps the adrenaline was giving me monstrous strength. With a surge of stubbornness, I stepped out onto the sunlit road.
…
I walked steadily. I didn't have the superhuman strength to sprint while carrying someone—not yet. Maybe after becoming a 'Prime,' I could run miles with multiple people on my back, but for now, I was just a boy. Besides, running would increase the physical friction, and that would definitely short-circuit my brain.
DISGUSTING!
What am I even thinking?
The soft weight of her body and that warm breath on my neck were enough to kill me. Every movement reminded me that I wasn't carrying an object, but a living, breathing human. This intimacy was shredding my nerves.
Am I walking toward my own destruction?
I screamed internally.
But strangely, beneath the panic, there was a sense of peace. A nameless feeling. My vocabulary had no words for it. All I knew was that my face was burning crimson.
The girl was silent. Not a single word. She was trusting a complete stranger to carry her to the headquarters—perhaps it was embarrassment, or an unspoken faith.
And me?
This was a day of firsts:
the longest conversation of my life, the first touch, and the first time carrying a girl.
A weird thought popped up.
What if Dad saw me like this?
He'd never let it go. He'd probably tell the neighbors, 'My boy finally brought home a wife!'
WIFE!!!
GROSS!!!
Where are these intrusive thoughts coming from?
Someone slap me!
"Oh! By the way..."
I said, tilting my head slightly as I walked.
"...I don't even know your name, and you don't know mine. We should probably fix that."
Good job, Durlav.
Finally, a normal sentence.
The girl rested her chin on my shoulder and nodded.
"You're right. But…, you have to go first."
"Fair enough. My name is... Durlav."
She seemed to smile at the name, but then lapsed into a deep silence. I felt a tug of curiosity.
"What is it? Your turn."
She hesitated.
"Fine. But I'm warning you—don't make a big deal out of it. And... would you even believe me?"
I was baffled. What was there to disbelieve?
Was she from another planet?
Finally, her lips moved. In a whisper, she said:
"Rumi... Rumi di Butler."
I nearly tripped. The name 'Butler' hit me like an arrow, but it was immediately followed by a burst of skeptical laughter.
"Why are you laughing!?"
Rumi asked, sounding offended.
"Ohh,sorry sorry. How can I not? You're saying you're a member of the Butler family? You're a great joker! That's the best one I've heard all day. Haha!"
Her cheeks puffed up in anger. Looking at her pouting face and reddened nose, I felt my heart do a somersault. Is she even human, or a ferry from a fairy tale?
My soul screamed—Am I falling for...
no, no, no!
Impossible!
"I am NOT joking," she grumbled, turning her head away.
As she turned, her eyes landed on a 'Dondurma Treat' ice cream shop at the corner of the street. Instantly, her anger vanished. She forgot about our delay and her sprained ankle, staring at the stall with the hunger of a small child.
She claimed to be a Butler, but I saw no royalty in her behavior. Her clothes suggested wealth, sure, but a Butler?
Impossible.
Anyone in Quad City would say the same. Would a member of a Ruling Family wander the streets without security?
Would they go to a camp alone?
Slip in the mud and sprain an ankle?
Most importantly, no member of the Royal Four would look at street ice cream with such longing.
"Rumi, do you like this ice cream?"
Hearing her name, she turned back, her face flushed.
"Rumi? You're calling me by my name directly!?"
I stammered, "Um... sorry, if it bothers you—"
She burst into laughter.
"You really are a dummy! Who said anything about being sorry? Did I tell you to stop?"
Her eyes drifted back to the shop. A child was buying ice cream with his mother. The vendor was performing the classic Dondurma trick—handing over the cone only to make it vanish with his long stick. It was a magical display.
This ice cream was rare here. It came from the Vanilla Kingdom, one of the four superpowers of the United Power, ruled by the Richard family. The Butlers, like the Richards, were one of the four influential families known as 'The Global King's'—the architects of modern peace.
Wait, how do I remember all this school trivia so clearly?
I knew that thanks to these four rulers, there hadn't been a major war since 'The Gariya War.' They were the legends of the modern world.
It was inconceivable that a girl from such a dynasty would be riding on the back of a common boy on her way to a seminar. She had to be messing with me.
My fear was fading, replaced by a new-found confidence. I looked her directly in the eye.
I smirked.
"I don't have money right now, and neither do you. But I promise, I'll buy you that ice cream one day. On one condition."
"What?"
"Stop joking with me. I don't like these kinds of pranks."
The atmosphere changed instantly. Rumi's calm eyes turned into spheres of blue fire. She growled, though it sounded as sweet as a songbird's call.
"I. Am. Not. Joking! Everything I said is the absolute truth!"
Her cheeks turned red as tomatoes.
I let out a loud laugh. But it didn't last.
"Stop laughing!!!"
A violent wave of energy exploded from Rumi's voice. The blue eye on his left side suddenly darkened, strangely tinged with a shade of red.
…
In a heartbeat, I turned into a stone statue. The golden sunlight vanished, replaced by a suffocating, frozen darkness. My breath hitched. This wasn't my old phobia. This was something else—a deep, primal, death-chilling terror!
My heart hammered against my ribs like a blacksmith's forge. It felt like an invisible monster was crushing my throat. I was sinking into an infinite abyss of loneliness.
FEAR... FEAR... FEAR!... FEARRRRR!!!...
Every vein in my body convulsed with an alien horror. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground. Rumi was still on my back, but her soft body now felt heavier than a mountain.
Cold sweat drenched me. It felt like I was standing in the middle of a desert while the sun poured fire directly onto my brain. In a violent jerk, my head snapped toward the sun of its own accord.
Under that supernatural intensity, my eyeballs began to bubble and boil. The agony was unspeakable as my pupils melted, oozing down my cheeks like molten lava. My eye sockets were now nothing but scorched, hollow pits of charred flesh. Slowly, my skin began to blister and rupture, the raw meat sloughing off my bones in tattered ribbons. The sickening stench of rendered fat and burning flesh choked the air.
I tried to scream, but my mouth was a furnace of agony. Before a single sound could escape, the sheer pressure of my silent shrieks caused my throat to burst open, spraying hot blood onto the parched earth. I gasped for air, but every breath felt like molten lead flooding my lungs, incinerating my veins from the inside out.
What is happening?
Is this an illusion?
Or a living portrait of Hell?
My throat was parched, caked with dry blood. Was I going to die here in this visceral nightmare?
Suddenly, it felt as if a thousand shards of jagged glass were being driven through every inch of my exposed muscle. My soul writhed in a frantic, agonizing struggle, but my body—now a mangled heap of clinging flesh—was paralyzed.
Then, an invisible axe swung down with inhuman force, splitting my shattered existence in two. Amidst the sickening crunch of bone and marrow, a silent, agonizing scream echoed through the void as the world plunged into an absolute, eternal black.