Time didn't exist here.
Or maybe it existed all at once.
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Veyron was running.
Laughter echoed around him—bright, weightless. His sister ran ahead, her steps careless, joy stitched into every movement. Reina watched from behind, smiling, letting them go.
The sun was low, warm, spilling gold across everything.
Then—
His sister tripped.
She fell forward with a small gasp.
Veyron reached her instantly, hands catching her shoulders, steadying her. But another pair of hands touched her too—soft, warm.
Black-skinned hands.
Nyra.
She helped his sister up gently, brushing dust from her knees. His sister laughed it off, unhurt, eyes sparkling.
Veyron looked up.
Nyra met his gaze.
For a moment, nothing else existed.
Then his sister ran ahead again, carefree, leaving them behind. She turned once, smiling at them—like she already knew.
Veyron started running too.
But this time, not after his sister.
Beside Nyra.
They ran forward together, toward the sun, its light swallowing the horizon, brighter and brighter—
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The scene broke.
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Goro lay asleep in a small apartment.
Physics books were scattered around him—three thick volumes open and half-stacked, pages folded and worn. Notebooks lay beside them, filled with cramped equations and messy handwriting. A half-eaten donut sat forgotten on the table.
Goro slept deeply.
His bald head rested against the edge of the bed, breath slow and heavy. His body looked different here—leaner, almost fragile. No scars. No tension. Just exhaustion earned from study, not survival.
For once, nothing weighed on him.
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The world shifted again.
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Steam filled the air.
Yuki stood beneath warm water, eyes closed.
Her hair wasn't white.
It was dark brown, long and ordinary, clinging to her shoulders as water ran through it. No glow. No power. Just a girl.
She stepped out, wrapped in a towel.
Later, she moved through a massive house—marble floors, tall windows, quiet luxury. Music played softly somewhere above. She applied makeup carefully, standing between four large mirrors, checking herself from every angle.
She looked younger.
Fifteen.
Her mother watched her from the doorway, smiling.
"You're going to be late," her mother said casually.
"I know," Yuki replied, fixing a strand of hair. "I just need a minute."
They talked as she walked down the stairs, laughter drifting through the open space of the house. About school. About plans. About nothing important.
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The dream shifted again.
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Axel sat alone in his apartment, staring at a digital Monopoly board glowing on his screen. He leaned back in his chair, smirking as the AI landed—yet again—on one of his hotels.
"Unlucky," he muttered.
The door opened.
His stepfather and stepmother walked in, tired but smiling, coats still on. The room instantly felt warmer.
Later, they sat together at the table, eating dinner, plates clinking softly while their favorite show played in the background. A new episode. Everyone watched in silence, occasionally laughing, occasionally commenting, comfortable in the kind of peace Axel rarely allowed himself to remember.
The screen faded.
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Fog.
Nyra stood alone, moving slowly through thick, dark fog that swallowed everything beyond a few steps. There was no ground, no sky—only gray nothingness.
She turned.
A faint blue glow seeped through the fog behind her.
Then it grew.
Massive. Blinding. A colossal blue light, pulsing, chasing.
Nyra ran.
Her breath burned as she sprinted through the fog, heart pounding. Behind her, the blue light closed in, flooding the mist, almost touching her back.
Through the dark-gray haze ahead, she saw a shape.
A man.
A shadow.
Just as the light was about to consume her—
Something caught her.
Arms wrapped around her from the front, strong and steady. She slammed into a chest, buried her face into it instinctively.
The blue light vanished in the last second, dissolving into nothing.
The black shadow coating the man slowly peeled away.
Veyron.
Nyra broke.
She cried and smiled at the same time, clutching him, face pressed against his chest like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go.
He didn't.
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The world shifted.
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Reina sat at a table, laughing softly.
Her family surrounded her—warm voices, shared food, an ordinary happiness that felt impossibly precious. No danger. No running. Just home.
The scene faded.
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Sunset painted the sky in orange and pink.
Akari ran barefoot through open land, pink-glowing butterflies swirling around her in playful spirals. She laughed, spinning, arms wide, chasing them as night slowly crept in.
Then—
She tripped.
Akari fell into a small river with a splash.
She stood up quickly, water barely reaching her knees.
Too shallow to be a problem.
She tried stepping out.
She couldn't.
The river pulled.
Slowly at first—then deeper.
The water rose unnaturally, dragging her down as if the ground beneath her feet was dissolving. She sank below the surface, then lower… and lower… minutes passing as the water stretched endlessly beneath her.
Yet she could breathe.
Panic clawed at her chest.
Suddenly, something grabbed her.
She was yanked upward violently. Akari tried to scream, but no sound came—only bubbles.
Up.
Up.
—
She burst out of the water—
And woke up.
Akari's eyes snapped open.
Black tape sealed her mouth.
Her hands were bound tightly with more tape. Her legs too.
Terror froze her entire body.
Pink butterflies exploded into the air, filling the room in frantic spirals, glowing wildly, slamming into walls, panicking with her.
Strong arms lifted her.
Rhett Kael.
He carried her calmly, almost gently, out of the bedroom. The door creaked open as he stepped into the hallway.
He lowered her to the floor.
Akari lay there helpless—arms, legs, mouth bound—unable to move, unable to scream. The butterflies circled faster. Akari could barely breathe. Her chest rose in short, panicked bursts, the black tape over her mouth trapping every sound. Her eyes darted wildly down the hallway. No footsteps. No voices. Everyone else was still asleep.
Rhett moved calmly through the house, almost casually, as if he belonged there. He pulled a walkie-talkie from his jacket, thumb pressing down on the button.
"Hey—"
A knife tore through the air.
It smashed straight into the walkie-talkie, ripping it in half mid-signal. Sparks died instantly.
Rhett froze.
"Such a boring brat," a voice said from the stairs. "Why are you here?"
Shin stepped into view, walking upstairs slowly, eyes half-lidded, posture loose like he'd just rolled out of bed.
Rhett turned sharply, disbelief flooding his face.
"You— you were supposed to be dreaming…"
"It's— it's impossible— how—" Rhett muttered, staring at his own palms like they'd betrayed him. He dragged his hands over his face, fingers trembling, red hair falling messily around his eyes.
"I couldn't sleep," Shin said evenly. "But I could read everyone's dreams. Something felt wrong. So I did what I always do when that happens—checked the house."
He stopped a few steps away.
"And I figured out it was you causing it. Long time no see, old friend."
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Their past hit them hard now. They remembered.
The prison corridors came back in fragments.
Rhett Kael… used to be a girl.
Back then, she hadn't gone by that name. She'd chosen Rhett long before she ever wore it openly—before capture, before collars, before concrete walls.
Shin used to sit with her during the quiet hours in the hidden government prison. Talking. Planning. Hoping.
Rhett had known Yuki. Nyra. Reina. Almost all of them—except Axel. Rhett was there before him.
She'd been kind. Quietly funny. Always talking about the future.
"One day," she used to say, smiling faintly, "when they let us go… I'll finally be me."
She never felt like a woman. Never had. And everyone around her knew it.
But the government never let her go.
Then came the escape.
Half the prisoners made it out.
Half didn't.
Rhett didn't.
The collars stayed on. The mirrors stayed cruel. And everyone outside kept wondering—Where's Rhett? Is she alive?
No one ever got an answer.
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The present snapped back.
Rhett's knees trembled as tears streamed down his face. He pulled out two red karambit knives, blades curved and shaking in his grip.
"They— they promised us a lot of money," he sobbed, voice cracking. "And complete freedom… if we catch all the sealbreakers that escaped."
Shin didn't move.
"They won't," he said quietly. "You know that."
Rhett choked on a breath.
"You can only die here because we're forced to protect ourselves," Shin continued. "And I don't want to kill you, Rhett. I want you to finally get your dream."
A pause.
"But not like this."
"I'm— I—I'm sorry," Rhett cried. "But you gotta understand…"
Shin looked at him.
Not angry. Not sad.
Just disappointed.
He raised his arms, slipping into a loose fighting stance, movements slow, almost lazy—still half asleep.
Rhett spun the karambits and charged.
Shin dodged.
Rhett slid across the hallway, twisted his leg unnaturally—rotating it a full 180 degrees—and launched back.
Shin dodged again.
But this time, blades caught him.
Thin cuts opened across his forearms. More followed—his right cheek, his left forehead. His legs took hits. He blocked some, missed others.
Then—
Rhett swept his leg sideways, knee slamming into Shin's stance.
Shin tripped and fell.
Even as he hit the floor, he reacted—hips snapping upward, foot kicking one karambit into the air.
Rhett caught it mid-air with his other hand.
Then he kicked Shin hard in the head.
Shin's skull hit the floor with a dull crack.
The world blurred.
Rhett moved fast.
Black tape sealed Shin's mouth. More tape bound his arms behind his back. Shin was forced onto his knees, vision swimming, body heavy.
Rhett crouched in front of him.
He touched Shin's chin with trembling fingers, sliding slowly from his neck upward. Crying silently.
The two karambits rose, one on each side of Shin's throat.
"Mayor wouldn't mind one sealbreaker less—"
Light snapped tight around Rhett's arms.
They were yanked outward into a forced T-pose.
Threads.
Nyra stood at the end of the hallway, eyes wide, breath sharp.
With a violent pull, she hurled Rhett backward. His body slammed across the hallway, crashing into the far wall, skidding along the floor.
Rhett groaned.
Then smirked.
He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. Blood trickled from his nose now, dripping onto the floor.