For a long moment, there was only darkness and silence.

And then, Aika suddenly had a dream...

***

The clouds were gray and smog-choked. There was no sun and a heavy rain was beginning to streak the narrow gaps between the buildings.

These tenements around were old and grimy, and their alleyways were filled with waste and really large rats. Hiding in the shadows of one of these alleyways was a little girl, who was somewhere around the age of fourteen.

She had long, black, dirty hair. Blue eyes that were sunken and bloodshot. She was dressed in a white, filthy dress that was torn. Her body was littered in wounds that were festering, and some even had flies circling them.

All these wounds were not enough to end her, of course. But there was one wound, however, that was killing her at the moment, and that was the wound on her left wrist.

Of all the wounds she had, this was the only one she gave herself. The evidence of that was the dirty broken glass she held in her trembling right hand.

Her glassy, empty eyes stared at the puddles and the emotions in her heart was one of pure hatred, resentment, and guilt.

She really did not want to die. She was afraid to die. But then, she could not wait for death to claim her... for her to leave this horrible world behind.

Maybe then, she would find solace.

That was why, when her vision blurred and her limbs grew cold, she couldn’t help but feel strangely happy.

When she felt her last breaths coming, she slowly lifted her face to the sky. The rain washed the grime from her cheeks as she cursed the Gods, this world and everyone crawling in it.

She had barely finished her plea when she heard footsteps, and then... a shadow fell over her.

But she couldn’t see who it was because at that moment, her vision finally faded to black.

...

The girl thought that she had met her end, but to her dismay, her eyes fluttered open.

’Huh?’

She quickly pushed herself up, and as she took in her surroundings, she could see that she was in a lavish bedroom. The kind one would see in a castle. Not that she knew what the inside of a palace actually looked like, but the silk sheets and gold-leafed furniture felt like a fever dream compared to the mud of the alleyway.

The air in the room was warm, smelling of lavender, crushed mint, and sandalwood.

’Where am I? Wait... didn’t I die?’

Panicked, the girl raised her hand, but then, a gasp escaped her when she saw that the injury on her wrist had healed. In fact, all her wounds had healed. And as if that was not strange enough, she was no longer wearing her white, blood-stained dress but was now wearing a black, gothic-like dress.

She was still reeling from the shock when she suddenly heard footsteps coming to the room, accompanied by a casual whistling. Quickly, she began to search for something, anything that she could use as a weapon.

A knock sounded on the door. She scrambled over to the fireplace and seized the heavy iron poker, then she ran to the wall beside the door and pressed herself against it.

After a few more knocks, a male voice outside sighed and said with a hint of amusement, "I’m coming in."

The doors opened wide and a man dressed in simple, dark trousers and a linen shirt while wearing an apron came inside. He smelled of savory herbs and woodsmoke as if he had been cooking, and he held a plate of freshly baked bread and thick slices of roasted meat in his right hand. There were also some berries on the plate.

Despite not seeing the girl on the bed, he did not slow and began making his way to the nightstand, but at that moment, the girl, who had been tiptoeing from behind, reached up with a desperate surge and smashed his head with the heavy iron firepoker.

The man’s head jolted to the side from the impact, but to her horror, there was no blood or any injury of the sort. If anything, the firepoker seemed to have bounced off him as if it had struck a stone pillar.

The man stopped whistling. As he slowly turned to look behind him, he muttered in a dry, weary tone, "Now now. That’s no way to repay my hospitality."

His gaze dropped to the fire poker and he waved a hand dismissively. "And put that down. You’ll only injure yourself."

The girl was clearly terrified, but the hatred and anger rolling off her was palpable. She didn’t know who this man was, and though she knew her weapon was now useless, she clutched the iron poker with a trembling grip and bared her teeth.

"Who are you? Where am I? What did you do to me?"

She paused and a mix of emotions settled on her face.

Confusion, fear, and somewhere there, a tiny, flickering tinge of relief?

She narrowed her eyes. "And... and how is it that I’m able to see your face?"

"Hm?" The man arched a brow. Then, a realization hit him, causing him to tilt his head back. "Ah..." A hint of pity crossed his face. "Oh, you poor, poor thing. You probably got so traumatized that you can’t even recognize human faces anymore."

The man sighed and shook his head.

He was right. On any normal day, rather than seeing a person’s face, this girl would see a large, featureless round head with a massive, clown-like grin.

It was a smile she hated, one that terrified her to her core.

But as she looked at this man, she could see his warm brown eyes, his neatly cut dark hair, and a smile that actually felt welcoming.

Also, this man had the face of Kim Min-jun. Not that she knew who that was.

She watched him reach for the plate, take one of the berries, and shove it into his mouth.

"Me?" He seemed to think for a moment, tapping a finger against his cheek. He turned around and said in a nonchalant manner, "I seem to recall you praying to me not too long ago."

He halted and raised a finger to correct himself. "Oh, wait... you weren’t actually praying to me. You were cursing me. Something along the lines of ’Gods be damned’ and ’may the world and everyone crawling in it rot alongside me.’ Yada, yada, yada."

"Huh?" The girl’s brow arched in even deeper confusion. "What is this drivel you are spewing? Are you mad?"

The man chuckled. "Maybe I am. My brother says he’s never met anyone more insane than me. I don’t why he says that, but I just feel like kicking him in the arse every time he does."

He reached the table and dropped the plate of food. Then, he spun around coolly and extended his hands to the side. As if he expected a drumroll to play out of thin air, he said in a theatrical manner, "I am he whom you call God."

He waited for the girl to gasp in awe, to be amazed by his presence, or fall to her knees and say something like, "Oh my... It’s an honor to see you, O Great One!"

But the girl just stared at him, wondering how she was going to kill this idiot looking person in front of her.

He frowned, clapped his hands together, and dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. "Fine. Or you can just call me ####."

For a short, awkward moment, there was silence between them. After crossing one leg over the other, the man asked, "Come now, I told you mine. Tell me your name, child."

The girl gritted her teeth. "My name’s none of your business."

"None of Your Business?" The man arched a brow. "Hm. That’s a weird name for a girl. Who named you that?"

The girl’s face, hands, and everything twitched with irritation.

He looked back and forth between her and the food. "I made that for you. I can tell you haven’t eaten in a long time, Miss None of Your Business. So come, eat..."

He gestured to his mouth, having just swallowed the berry. "And as you can see, it’s not poisoned."