CHAPTER 24: CH:24 THE BOY I BURIED

"Ahh..."

A fragile voice echoed in the darkness.

"Where... am I again?"

Dila blinked slowly. Her body felt weightless, suspended in the void—an empty dome of infinite black. She floated, trembling slightly. Her breath shivered as it escaped her lips.

"Why am I back here?" she whispered. "Why... this dream again?"

Her heart pounded. A cold ache pressed against her chest. Tears began to sting her eyes as the silence folded in on her like a blanket of dread.

Suddenly, in the dark distance, a dim spotlight bloomed—a pale light illuminating a single figure.

A man stood beneath it.

Dila turned her head toward him, slowly, uncertainly—only for her lips to part in wordless horror.

She recognized him. Herself.

Her past self.

A boy.

The man under the light stared down with empty eyes. He was quiet... until the sound of an angry voice cracked through the void like thunder.

"You’re nothing. You’re gay. You’re not my son. You’re a traitor!"

The words were cruel, soaked in venom.

The boy—Dila’s past self—looked up with tears, mouth trembling. "F-Father..."

His voice broke into a sob.

Dila, floating in the dark, clutched her chest and reached out instinctively toward the image. Her hand trembled as it stretched forward—helpless.

"N-No... please stop," she whispered. "Stop it..."

But the vision continued, as though playing out on a cruel stage.

Another light lit up. A new memory.

The boy stood in a small room, barely more than a corner space. The walls were soft pink. A mirror reflected him—wearing a dress. His face had a touch of makeup, messy, nervous.

Then—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A loud knock against the door. Then the door burst open.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

The father’s voice boomed, shaking the walls of that memory.

The man stormed in. His shadow loomed like a beast.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Blow after blow rained down. The boy—eleven years old—curled up, shielding his face, blood trickling from his nose.

He didn’t scream. He only whimpered through the pain.

"I... I can’t..." he sobbed, sliding down the wall, holding his knees to his chest.

"I can’t take this anymore... a-a... this is torture..."

He cried into the fabric of the dress, the makeup smeared by tears.

Back in the void, Dila stood frozen—watching it all.

Her shoulders shook. Her lips trembled. "No... no... not again... please, make it stop..."

Above her, a pale light flickered like stage lighting, casting her in a lonely glow. Her own sobs echoed faintly across the endless dome. She wasn’t crying for the boy.

She was crying for herself.

The past.

The wound that had never truly healed.

Another flicker.

A second spotlight flared to life in the vast void—like a theater stage revealing its next act.

Dila turned slowly, her breath caught in her throat.

This time, it wasn’t her father. It was a school hallway—but twisted. The walls stretched longer than they should, lockers towering like prison gates, the floor darkened like wet stone under dim fluorescent lights. It felt too big, too cold—an exaggerated memory shaped by pain.

At the center stood her younger self again.

A teenage boy.

Shoulders hunched. Eyes down. Books clutched to his chest.

He looked so small.

A group of classmates gathered around him. Their faces blurred by memory, yet their voices were sharp and cruel—cutting through the silence like broken glass.

"Ahhh hahahaha! Gay freak!"

A boy’s voice rang out, mocking.

Another stepped forward, fake smiling.

"You’re not normal." His words were colder. Sharper.

"I can’t accept that kind of friend. You’re nobody. You’re nothing."

"Disgusting."

Then—a shove.

The boy stumbled backward, falling to his knees, books scattering like fallen leaves.

Laughter exploded from all sides.

Fingers pointed.

Jeering.

Mocking.

"Look at him! He’s going to cry again!"

"He’s always so weird!"

"Why don’t you just disappear already?"

Dila stood apart in the darkness, eyes wide, hands trembling. She could hear her younger self breathing—quick, shallow, broken. He didn’t scream. He didn’t fight.

He just curled up on the cold, echoing floor, hiding his face behind his hands as the hallway twisted in shadow and light.

And the others?

They just kept laughing.

The scene didn’t fade—it lingered, like an old scar being scraped raw again. Every laugh, every word, every finger pointed at her younger self echoed across the void and into Dila’s heart.

She took one step forward.

"No..." she whispered.

Her voice cracked.

"That wasn’t me anymore... right...?"

But the boy didn’t answer. He just stayed there, small and trembling.

Dila’s legs buckled.

She dropped to her knees in the void.

Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she whispered:

"Why... why do I still remember all of this?"

Above her, the harsh white spotlight dimmed slightly—but didn’t go out.

A third light tore open the void.

Suddenly fast forward to four years.

This time, the stage was a dark and endless road, slick with rain under a pale, flickering streetlamp. The world around it was dim and quiet, only the whisper of wind through scattered leaves filled the silence.

There—running barefoot down the roadside—was him again.

Fifteen years old.

The boy who once was Dila.

His legs were scraped, his shirt torn at the collar, and his face swollen—one eye blackened, blood dried near the corner of his lip. He ran like he had no destination, only desperation. Panic was in every breath, in every stride, like a wild animal escaping a cage too small to breathe in.

His voice cracked the night.

"Help! Please! Somebody help me!!"

But there was no answer.

Only the echo of his own voice bouncing back from the void.

Dila, watching from afar, felt her knees hit the unseen floor again. Her fingers dug into the nothingness, her nails clawing at the invisible ground.

She knew this memory.

She had buried it so deep.

The boy on the road fell. Hard. His body tumbled to the side, hitting the gravel shoulder, scraping skin from his arms and knees. But he didn’t stop. He dragged himself up again and kept running.

A long, painful gasp left her lips.

Then the scene cut to black—a jagged, broken transition—like torn film being devoured by fire.

Darkness.

Silence.

Until...

■■■••••

A low static hum.

And then it came—the glitch.

A strange circle-faced figure floated into view, half-dissolved in the shadows. Its eyes and mouth were hollow voids, deeper than the abyss around it. Crackling distortion surged across its form like broken code struggling to exist.

Its voice was twisted, mechanical—half-human, half-mockery.

"See? You abandoned them..."

The face tilted, twitching unnaturally.

"You didn’t like that... did you? So you ran. You ran like a coward."

Dila’s eyes widened in horror. She backed away, her hands trembling as she looked up at the thing. Its presence made her chest feel heavy—like someone sitting on her ribs.

"No..." she whispered. Her voice barely reached her own ears.

The figure floated closer, looming.

"You left your family behind. You called them cruel, but maybe..., you were the one who failed. A traitor to blood. A traitor to your body. And now... look at you."

Dila shook her head, violently.

"No!" she cried, her voice cracking into a scream. "You’re wrong! I was injured—broken! I could’ve died! They were monsters! I didn’t abandon them—I survived them!"

Her shout echoed across the black dome.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and bitter.

Her hands covered her ears, her face twisted in pain as she curled up on the dark floor.

"I didn’t leave them... because I hated them..."

Her voice softened. Her shoulders shook.

"I left because I had to."

She sobbed.

Broken. Honest.

"I didn’t want to die... I didn’t want to disappear... I just wanted to live. Even if it meant being alone."

The glitching figure paused.

Its face glitched again, crackling in silence.

Then... it slowly began to fade.

The static hum dimmed.

And Dila was left alone, weeping in the dark dreamscape.

Only the echo of her breath and heartbeat remained.

The darkness did not comfort her—but at least, for now, it no longer whispered lies.

Suddenly—through the sorrow and silence—a light stirred.

Soft. Pure.

Like the gentle chime of a bell in spring.

A voice reached out.

Warm as sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

"You’re not alone anymore, Master..."

The words were soft, delicate—like a song whispered through silk.

"I’m here by your side."

Dila flinched, startled.

Her breath caught as she felt the gentle sensation of arms wrapping around her from behind.

The embrace was so real, so warm. It wasn’t like the other illusions.

It was her.

Dila’s eyes widened. She turned her head slowly over her shoulder.

And there she was.

Nari.

But not as a voice in her head or a flickering interface—

This time, she stood there in human form.

A soft glow outlined her frame like she was woven from light itself.

She had flowing pink hair that shimmered with ethereal strands, and her eyes—gentle, rosy-pink—held nothing but kindness. Her smile was warm and patient, like a sunrise that waited just for Dila to open her eyes.

She looked like a dream.

No... not a dream.

A friend. An anchor.

"We got this," Nari whispered.

"Through thick and thin."

Dila gasped. "Nari...?"

Her voice trembled. Her tears welled again—but this time, not from pain.

She turned fully and threw her arms around Nari, burying her face in the crook of her neck. She cried again—but now, in relief. In the comfort of someone who never left.

"Nari... you’re really here..."

Nari smiled softly, her hand stroking the back of Dila’s silver hair.

"Always," she whispered.

And there—in the vast dome of darkness where shadows once ruled—two hearts held onto each other.

And for the first time in that long, terrible nightmare...

Dila wasn’t alone anymore.

As Dila held Nari close, the darkness around them began to change.

A soft wind stirred—gentle and warm—like spring air brushing through a field of flowers.

The heavy void that once hung like a weight over Dila’s heart began to lift.

Above them, light slowly started to seep in.

It wasn’t harsh or sudden.

It came like a sunrise behind a veil, golden rays slowly peeling away the shadows that had swallowed her.

The ground beneath their feet shimmered with soft white petals, appearing like falling snow made of light. The air was filled with faint sparkles, dancing gently as if celebrating her return.

Dila looked at Nari one last time.

Her silver-blue eyes, once dulled by pain, now shimmered again—with life, with hope.

She smiled.

Nari smiled back—calm, graceful, and proud. Her hands slowly released their embrace, but her warmth remained.

The world around them started to fade into a glowing brilliance, and Dila’s form began to dissolve into particles of soft light—lifting upwards, gently, like a soul being carried by a dream.

Dila closed her eyes.

And Nari’s voice echoed softly as the light took her away:

"I’ll always be by your side, Master... whenever you need me."

The last thing Dila saw was Nari’s kind smile glowing in the light.

And then—

the dream dissolved—

and the real world began to return.