Prologue - B

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Dawn.

The intense rays of the sun pierced strongly through the blinds, rudely awakening the boy from his slumber.

Mornings had never been a welcome sight for Aren, and today was no exception.

He reluctantly tried to open his eyes, attempting to reorient himself to reality. Unsurprisingly, his efforts yielded little success, prompting him to roll over and shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight, pulling the familiar blanket closer in an instinctual attempt to seek refuge.

But then, a sudden realization jolted him awake.

'Wait... what? A blanket?'

His eyes widened as he frantically threw the blanket off of himself and shot up, now sitting on the bed as he surveyed his surroundings.

A light brown wooden wardrobe stood in one corner, the walls adorned in a soothing shade of baby blue. A shelf displayed a sleek gray Toshiba laptop, flanked by neatly arranged stacks of books - additionally, a cozy blue single-bed occupied the center of the room. White and blue blinds adorned the windows, their attempt to shield the room from the outside world proving futile. Meanwhile, a white door stood sentinel in the top middle part of the room, its faint shadow being a silent reminder of the mysteries that lay beyond.

'This... isn't my home.'

As the realization sunk in, Aren's brain began to ache from the effort of trying to make sense of the situation. In a desperate attempt to confirm whether it was all just a dream, he pinched himself on the cheek; however, instead of waking up, the action only added to the throbbing pain, leaving him doubly disoriented and no closer to understanding his predicament.

Aren's expression softened as a sense of despair washed over him, resigning himself to the possibility that, even if the pinch did hurt him, this must all just be some twisted nightmare. Yet, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that there was a slim chance this could be reality. With a heavy heart, he curled up into a ball, attempting to gather his thoughts amidst the chaos of uncertainty.

How had he ended up here? What was this place? Questions swirled in his mind as he struggled to piece together fragmented memories.

Focusing intently, he retraced his steps to the last clear memory he could grasp. But even then, his recollections seemed hazy and distant, like fragments of a fractured mirror reflecting an incomplete picture.

"Think, think," he urged himself, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and apprehension. Despite the overwhelming uncertainty, he knew he must try to make sense of his surroundings and find a way out of this bewildering situation.

'What truly happened last night? Last night... last night...'

Memories trickled back into Aren's consciousness, disjointed fragments of a puzzle slowly assembling themselves. He recalled the despair of winning the copy of the Mona Lisa at the auction - an unexpected triumph that filled him with a sense of guilt and shame.

Then... the alleyway - dimly lit, deserted, and filled with an inexplicable sense of foreboding. Unease gnawed at him as he recalled the feeling of being watched, of something lurking in the shadows as he threw away the Mona Lisa into a nearby trash chute.

And then, the sudden onset of drowsiness - a heavy weight pressing down on him, dragging him into unconsciousness against his will. The memory was hazy, like trying to recall a dream upon waking, but the sensation of helplessness was all too real.

Aren's heart quickened as he pieced together the events leading up to his current predicament. The auction, the alleyway, the inexplicable drowsiness...

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