𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥

Chapter 1: Falling in reverse

You know what's the most deceptive thing in the world?

Time.

It flows like a river, carrying us inexorably toward a destination we cannot escape.

Life, in all its complexity, seems to be a mere facade for this relentless march. We strive to fill our days with purpose, stretching each moment to the fullest, yet time's hands never waver in their steady progression. It reminds us, with unwavering constancy, that our existence is but a simple, unwavering journey towards the inevitable, where all our efforts and aspirations ultimately converge.

Or that's what I thought at least...

In a moment of reckoning I realized the passage of time in my life wasn't measured by a regular clock but by the shifting sands of an hourglass.

When everything fell apart and I embraced the inevitable, it turned around, offering me another chance.

Though, I was unsure if it was an opportunity or a path to another demise.
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Raindrops dance on the neon-lit streets of Tokyo, casting a melancholic glow on the cityscape. The air is heavy with the scent of wet asphalt and the distant hum of traffic.

In this moody atmosphere, lone pedestrians, draped in layers of warmth, sought refuge beneath a myriad of umbrellas. Each individual, cocooned in their protective shield, hurried through the wet labyrinth of streets, a collective determination to move together against the unpredictable weather and retreat to the comforting embrace of their homes.

As the rain intensifies, the silhouette of an old, abandoned office building emerges from the mist. Its windows, shattered and forgotten, reflect the city's shimmering lights like fractured memories.

Inside, the solemn quiet is interrupted by the murmur of footsteps. One set moves with a leisurely grace, almost like it was exploring the forgotten spaces, while another, more hurried and restless, adds an undertone of urgency.

Through the desolate halls, a young woman who bore a pained expression was tightly clenching her midsection. A deep, clean cut was visible beneath the torn fabric of her shirt, the material uncomfortably pressing into her fresh wound.

"Damn it," she cursed under her breath, pushing her legs to move faster than they already did as blood started to leak through her fingers.

On the other hand, her pursuer seemed to be in no hurry to reach her as he walked at a slow pace while whistling a tune to himself. The sound of it making her skin crawl.

Ren was stupid.

She fell blindly in a trap.

It should have been obvious that the information she needed wouldn't come in so easily.

Her strength soon faltered, transforming her sprint into a painful hobble. Despite her pursuer still on her trail, the need for a brief rest compelled her to slow down.
Coming to a stop, she pressed herself against the cracked and soiled wall. The residue of crumbling lime met her fingertips, and the dampness from lingering condensation intensified the grime, leaving her hand not only dirtied but uncomfortably sticky.

Gritting her teeth, she stole a glance behind.

Cloaked in the night's darkness, a figure strolled a few feet away from her. Nonchalantly kicking aside some overturned chairs as he had a light, cheerful bounce into his walk.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed herself forward again. The metallic scent of her blood combined with the building's humidity and rust reaching her nose.
As she finally reached the end of the corridor she was met with a staircase that lead up while on each intersection there was a pair of degrading doors. Recognizing the futility of climbing with her injury, Ren knew going up was impossible.