Fire swallowed it in seconds, a sudden, violent blaze in the night. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen a box erupt into fire, its contents seemingly erased from existence.
But Es was already gone.
She crawled through the tunnel, the space so narrow it felt like the walls were pressing in, suffocating. The darkness here was absolute—heavy, almost alive.
Gripping a small kitchen torch between her teeth, she flicked it on. A dim, flickering light illuminated the path ahead, casting eerie shadows along the tight space.
She didn’t stop.
She didn’t hesitate.
She just kept crawling, deeper into the unknown.
After what felt like an eternity of crawling through the suffocating tunnel, a sliver of light finally appeared ahead. Es squinted, her eyes struggling to adjust after the oppressive darkness.
Without hesitation, she hurriedly dragged herself toward it, desperate for an escape. But the second she erged from the hole—
Click.
The cold, unmistakable press of gun barrels touched both sides of her head.
For a long, tense mont, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Fifteen agonizing seconds passed before she slowly lifted her gaze, eting the eyes of her captors. A low, murderous chuckle slipped from her lips.
"Well," she drawled, her voice laced with dark amusent. "You can kill . But at least let get all the way out before you start playing this ga."
Without waiting for a response, she ignored the guns and dragged herself forward.
BAM!
"Ouch!" she groaned as she tumbled forward—only to land flat on her back.
Blinking up, her gaze locked onto two familiar faces.
Her parents.
Her mother and father stood above her, both staring down with unreadable expressions, each holding a gun aid directly at her.
Her father’s sharp eyes flickered with sothing close to disapproval as he turned to his wife, sighing as he scoured his shoulders. "She gets this from you," he muttered, as if Es wasn’t lying battered on the floor in front of them.
His wife, however, rely smiled—a sharp, amused thing that made it clear she found the situation entertaining. Like watching a misbehaving child rather than a bloodied, half-dead woman.
Es let out a frustrated groan. "Excuse , miss. Excuse , you old geezers! Your child is literally dying here, and you two are busy with yourselves?"
At that, both her parents snapped their gazes down at her, their matching expressions turning into identical looks of offense.
"Who the hell are you calling geezers?" they demanded in unison.
Es sighed, raising her hands in surrender. With a slight chuckle, she said, "Of course not you. I’m talking about myself, obviously."
Her parents exchanged glances, then gave her a slow, approving nod. "Yeah, that makes sense."
Es muttered inwardly, Well, if I’m old, then what does that make you two? But she wisely kept the thought to herself.
Just as she was trying to move past it, a soft, careful voice—light, childish, yet strangely knowing—cut through the air.
"Then if she’s old... what are you guys?"
Es’s breath caught. Soone said it. The very thought she had just suppressed.
But the realization didn’t bring relief—it sent a cold shiver down her spine.
Her body froze. Completely.
That voice. Sweet, innocent. A child’s voice. She had never heard it before, and yet... every fiber of her being scread at her not to turn around.
A suffocating premonition washed over her, an instinct so strong it felt like a command: If you turn around now, you will regret it for the rest of your life.
But another thought, just as powerful, pushed against it: If you don’t... you might never get the chance.
She lay there, rigid, trapped in the warring choices, until—
A small blur rushed past.
A little girl, no older than three, dashed forward in a frilly purple dress, the soft silk shimring under the dim light. Her hair was braided neatly, her tiny feet padding against the floor with excitent.
Trailing behind her was a timid boy, his half-pants and cotton t-shirt slightly oversized. He stuck close to her, his small hands clenched into uncertain fists. Even though he looked hesitant, his eyes, peeking from behind the girl, glead with quiet sincerity.
Es’s parents smiled at the sight, warmth flickering in their expressions.
But Es—
She could not turn around.
No, no, no.
The words repeated in her mind like a desperate mantra.
She didn’t want to see. She didn’t dare to see.
Because if she looked—if she acknowledged them—she feared sothing inside her would break beyond repair.
Yet, fate was cruel.
Tiny footsteps approached. Then, a gentle tap on her shoulder.
"Beautiful lady," the little girl said sweetly, "why are you still on the floor?"
Es made a mistake.
She turned around.
And then—she saw them.
Two beautiful children, standing before her.
The children were a perfect reflection of Ray.
No—more than that.
They were beautiful. Lovely. Untainted.
Not like her.
Es swallowed hard. They could never be like .
Unlovely. Disgusting.
A sharp ache throbbed behind her eyes. She squeezed them shut, knowing that when she had opened them earlier, they had turned gold. How terrifying that must have been for them.
She wanted to shut them out. To erase her presence.
I shouldn’t be here.
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to move. "I’m sorry," she whispered, turning away.
She tried to stand, but pain tore through her body like jagged glass. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she faltered, stumbling back to the ground.
A rush of movent.
Tiny hands reached for her.
"Are you okay?"
The words were soft, innocent, shaped by the clumsy lilt of a child still learning to speak. Yet Es understood them perfectly.
She forced herself to glance at them—but as she did, her world tilted.
A cold tremor rippled through the air.
The children stiffened. Their wide, bright eyes trembled as they looked at her.
Fear.
Es knew it instantly. She had seen that look before—many tis.
Her chest constricted.
Ah. I made a mistake.
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