"State your full name, please?" An old man asked. His face was unrecognisable under the shadow of the room, as were the two other people who were sitting on both of his sides typing and running through folders.

  "Hart." Another man sitting across the table answered. His identity was under a simir environmental influence, hiding everything except the white tiger-logo shoes he wore. All of them were in a poorly lit room, with three walls behind the three men in front of Hart, those who are obviously far older than him when taking into account the hard, raucous voice and the rger bck suits that they wore, and a gss door that connected the room to an office floor.

  "And your position?" the same old man asked.

  "I work in [REDACTED] as the [REDACTED] of [REDACTED]." Hart replied.

  A window on Hart's side rained a straight beam of light right beside his feet. Behind the gss pane that the light came through was the city, tall and purely artificial, made out of skyscrapers with hundreds of floors. There are barely any dark corners out there aside from the few areas without a rge glowing screen next to them. The sun had been repced by humanity's artificial light in this world. Everywhere you looked, there was always some sort of billboard or advertisement with a multitude of bright colours. Less greenery is visible nowadays, and the distant mountain forests have become a jungle of metal and concrete. How could a single species achieve this within a couple of recorded millennia?

  "Hart, do you know why you are here?" The suited old man on the right asked.

  "I believe I broke the rules."

  "Correct, and do you know what the rules were?"

  "Under jurisdiction 4:1, no employee is allowed to leak or share any information of [REDACTED]'s operation unless advised to do so by a high-ranking official no less than Level 4."

  "Since you know the consequences of breaching the contract, care to expin what motivated you to release information regarding [REDACTED]?"

  "You know what the worst thing you can get as payment is?"

  "What?"

  "Money that you helped to steal from people who needed it more than you." Hart's neck dropped itself on the head cushion of the chair, revealing the bitter, tanned skin of his neck that had degraded after the years. "I was sent to the mines, the fields, and factories in developing states. I stayed in one pce for a week or two, sometimes a month, to handle a number of reports about their progress in their respective operations. Usually, these facilities were tied directly to the company's assets, so I was warned extensively by the senior director not to make a mistake. -Of course, how could I make a mistake? Through the whole ordeal, I measured the rate of growth, expected returns to the company, and the maintenance costs, as well as the overall mood of the pces I was assigned to."

  Hart started tapping the table with the finger of his tired, willowy hand, stressing the sharp joints inside it.

  "Subsequently, I was also told to convince the locals to accept the company, since foreign enterprises are never welcome unless people are getting their own benefits, right? I pretty much decided whether or not the company should invest in a pce or not. My visits were always 50/50. So a lot of the time, the company was left without any more money, as well as me without a proper paycheque. But whenever I did find the right pce for investment, it was always a big boost to everyone involved. -To be honest, the investment returns to the company were always there wherever I was sent. I evaluated BOTH the returns to the company AND the returns to the local poputions. Meaning I never gave them the green light unless it benefitted both sides of the deal. Morally and wfully, I was in the right. I knew that if I ever mentioned any sign of benefit to the company, those parasites in the top brass wouldn't want to hear the rest of the reports on the negative impacts on everything else. I had control over their foreign expansions; no one else had as much knowledge and experience as me, so they were technically reliant on me. Though I never gave anyone harm, it was always about the win-win situation. None lost nor any stepping on the other."

  Hart spread his hands into the air, which jolted his body closer to the sun, exposing a happy smile stretching across his face. "A fair world, in other words."

  "So what was the issue?" The old man asked.

  "What was it? Well... at some point I decided to return to the regions where I approved the company's projects. My full expectations were positive changes and some development from what I saw previously. On one occasion, there was guaranteed, not a chance, but a GUARANTEED chance—for a vilge to become a small mining city with its growth after about 20 years. A new lithium deposit was discovered in the Congo, one big enough to fuel millions into their market in the first year. Guess what? That poor vilge was destroyed." Hart gripped his hands, hard enough for the veins to begin bloating on the surface of the skin. "I read the news of towns being destroyed because of a local mining operation, but our western media is terrible at reporting the smaller things outside their homes, and the locals themselves don't know well what's happening inside their nds, so I came over there to make sure there weren't any issues. I didn't see a mine operated by Congo people, but a bunch of white men from 3 separate companies.

  "I gave EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS to the board director to NOT bring other companies into the area. The trees were removed, the wildlife that I saw in the countryside was all gone, and, worst of all, the men who worked at the mines were sick and tired Congolese people! Everything was supposed to be about colborating with the people over there, but the damn company lied to me about them doing as told! I received files, images, reports, and emails, all of which pointed at a 'prospering' little lithium mine. YET, EVEN AFTER ALL THAT, the most recognisable element I saw were the site directors from the pictures of the mine's past meetings! They wore their precious fancy suits in contrast to the old, torn, ragged clothes of the VERY MINERS THAT WE WERE SUPPOSED TO SUBSIDISE!"

  A hard, blunt hand smmed the wooden table, sending shockwaves across the table, causing the three men on the other end to jump. Hart's right fist is as red as his face, not that you could see the top half of it.

  "Not just that lithium site." Hart continued. "Several other pces underwent backdoor deals, altering the very pn that the local government and I agreed upon. Indonesia, Niger, Somalia, and Yemen are the other cases where the promised benefits were stripped away from maximum profit. If you ask me, not only was the company breaking the contracts we made but also the ws in those countries. Underpaid workers, unsafe work environments, exploitation of foreign resources, forced movement of people, false statistics on regur reports, money undering, bckmailing, and harassment are just the usual rules they broke altogether. Each pce has its own horrid quirks; you should see what they did in Somalia. Do you remember that fat pig, Barce—?"

  Cutting Hart off, the old man in the middle raised his hand, having enough of this. "Thank you for sharing this, but I have to cut you off right now. So, justice. Is that what motivated you?"

  "Screw your 'justice'. That's the exact thing that caused this whole mess. People with the money and influence mangled the whole system to their own bidding; what kind of idiot do you take me for?"

  "What kind? The one that had just lost their job because they were too nosy and then they were paid for. It didn't matter what happened outside our offices; they're not our people nor our issue. What they agreed on was nothing wrong, just a badly written business deal, that's all. And you..." Changing his tone, the old man grew more dense. "You just needed to shut your mouth about it."

  Retracting from the tension, Hart had a short pause for a while, cooling his boiling blood while looking down at the tip of the table and thinking about something. The other men followed as well and were patiently waiting for his next words, clicking their pens as their anticipations grew more strained.

  "How powerful do you think you are?" Hart asked.

  "What does that mean?" the old man asked.

  "Strength and power over others. How much do you think you have?"

  "Isn't that insensitive to the topic on hand, Hart?"

  "I meant it when I asked you." Hart leaned a bit closer into the table, probably forcing a stern look to come out of his face.

  "There's no need for us to answer that, but just for a little crification, you are... or WERE a specialist of the company. Meaning..." He held up his finger and pointed at Hart. "You no longer have any significance in our business anymore. So please think carefully about what you will say onwards."

  There were no objections to that statement from the receiver. Both men, young and old, ripped a void between them as they stared into each other's souls. After a minute, the old man continued their reporting.

  "For the sake of both of us, Hart, can you please descriptively describe what occurred between [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]? As well as your own connections to it? We're losing time and patience, so start."

  As Hart spoke, the other two men besides the old man were mindlessly scribbling on their papers, following the old man's pauses, and would from time to time raise their heads to see what Hart was doing when the room fell silent for a while. Hart was summoned into this room so he could report his own actions to the company before his leave, but the other three board directors seemed to have something in their minds, yet they didn't say it. Hart showed no objections and was drawing a series of expnations about the [REDACTED] incident. A number of people were described, including what they did. Most names weren't noteworthy enough for the three men to show any interest, but a few did make them raise their eyebrows.

  "Well, I think that's enough." The old man said after their interrogatee finished. "Turn that recorder off."

  * * *

  The man beside the old man clicked a button on the rge recording device next to him, finalising their report today. The old man spped the files around his hand shut, passing them to the other two men. As the three men were visibly tidying up their papers and stuff, their interrogatee found it reasonable to leave, fixing his tie while getting up from his chair. The other three suddenly turned their heads to their person.

  "We're done with the official things... but not the whole thing, Hart." The old man said. "Sit back down."

  Hart stopped. His hand was already on the doorknob, ready to turn it. The interrogatee turned his head around, finally, without the dense shadow that was around him before, showing his young yet dried-up face to the light. Dark rings under his worn and dull eyes, a fair face with a slight imperfection from the faint hollowness of his cheeks. He was not the sunniest of humankind on the outside but rather had a serious, war-stricken look. Those pale grey eyes barely showed life in them, and they were not in the mood to change any time soon. "Huh? Listen, I don't have time for this. I have an appointment this afternoon, as well as a dinner reservation at 8. This stupid thing made me push a lot of pns for ter, so count yourselves lucky to see me."

  "I promise that it's worth your time." The old man expined sharply, pointing at the chair. The other two men, however, completely cleared the table, grabbing the equipment and documents. They slowly tread on their wavy tiptoes, bancing the heap of mass in their jittering arms towards the exit. As the two assistants closed in on the door, being a little considerate of their situation, Hart opened it but smmed it shut after the couple slipped past the doorway.

  Only two people were left in the semi-dark, hot room. One sat on his warmed-up leather armchair, peering at the other, who was standing with his hand in his pocket. Hart was getting tired of waiting himself. Puffing out a deep, long sigh into the air, he returned to the rugged chair, back to the darker side of the room.

  "Alright then, you've got my attention for the next 2 minutes." Hart said, crossing his right leg over the left as he rummaged through the pockets in his bck jacket. A paper cigarette and a square silver lighter. One swing of the lighter opened its cap, and a flick on its spark wheel ignited the fme. The glow of the fme illuminated Hart's mouth, then a bit of his eyes after he pced the tip of the cigarette above the lighter.

  "You shouldn't be smoking here." The old man said.

  "Two minutes, by the way." Hart snapped.

  "Oh, right then," the old man cleared his throat. "Since you are leaving the company and have no source of income, I have an offer for you."

  The old man continued. "A person of your position is a very important asset to a company, especially one like ours. There's bound to be a person who repces you, but we all know that no one has the amount of skills you have. Once you, Mr. Hart, are gone, our stocks and growth will plummet in no time, right? Some of us will try to put our own little endeavours into future investments, and many already have pns to hire their own private economists in order to prevent individual bank crashes. This, of course, will all be done so one can obtain more wealth than others.

  "In that regard, my team was keen on hiring your expertise as a private but also secret specialist. No need for any stressful early wakes or wasting time in traffic this time. It can be all done at home. The only service we will ask for is advisory-focused. The payment will be double what your's was before, on top of several insurances, of course! -When there's a probability of a good investment, we may ask you to look into it or even provide you a fully paid visit to the location... PLUS a vacation there! Yes, yes. Can't overstress a wonderful person such as you, Mr. Hart. But if you are a more office-type person, we can still get you an office. One with a luxurious desk, a wonderful view of scenery of your liking, a fully furnished interior, a private chef for all of your meals, and a secretary to handle your paperwork. If you want, we can find you a fine secretary, if you know what I mean. Hoho..." The old man smirked at Hart, trying to convince him into the deal. Though, the tter was rather unwavered by these words. He was fiddling with the cigarette that he didn't smoke; he wasn't much of a smoker in the first pce. Watching it burn was more interesting than the words of the old man.

  "Mr. Dougs." Hart said, raising the eyes of his unmoving head. "Do you wish to die?"

  "Umm... what?"

  "A man like you doesn't usually come up to me baldly and offer something that I may as well have gotten anytime on my own."

  "Baldly? Who do you think I am—?"

  "An idiot. One who can't understand which of the two is more vulnerable than the other. I don't wish to work in a stupid company that's in the phase of colpse, not even with a group of morons that make me detest life itself."

  "Now listen here, Hart! I'm not an idiot! I'm still a director in the company and may soon see the position of CEO with its weakening, while you ck any pce in the world as a viginte to the corporate world as a leaker. So think again, who's weaker?"

  "You owe me 38 million euros, Mr. Dougs. Don't forget that."

  The rambling mouth of the degrading state of the old man was forcibly shut. The numbers that were picked up by his ears were deafening enough to put him into trauma. For a second, Mr. Dougs fell back into his chair following his realisation that he was well across the table in his anger. He scurried into his pockets for a handkerchief, tapping the sweat of his pouring forehead.

  "Not just you." Hart warned. "Everyone else on the board of directors has at least five million to pay back to me. My sary insurance is not your business to care about, Mr. Dougs. And regarding that baseless idea that the company will kneel to you, there won't be a company for you to be in."

  Dougs looked through his button-like eyes at Hart, wondering what he was talking about. "What do you mean?"

  "People said the company is getting divided by our competitors, but most believed it would be a small portion of it. In reality." Hart smiled at the empty wall. "My reports on the company's misconduct had reached the hands of the state's anti-corruption department as well as the European councils. So the whole corporation will be dismantled."

  "HUH?!"

  The chair flopped back, and Hart readied himself again to leave. 2 minutes had passed, so the busy man was now bound to go elsewhere. The man was generous enough to stay there in the end, but he felt his time was, once more, used up unproductively. Pcing his hand on the doorknob, Hart turned the thing just for, unsurprisingly, Mr. Dougs to repeat his plea to stay.

  "Wait! I will make it triple—no, quadruple! Please, Mr—"

  The door closed before Mr. Dougs finished his sentence.

  * * *

  "Hart!" A plump man in his 40's wearing green Bavarian clothes, a feathered hat, and a long bushy moustache greeted the burnt-out businessman.

  "Good to see you, Franz." Hart sat down opposite his friend on an empty chair. "How's your family doing?"

  The two were at a restaurant beside the road. The interior of the pce resembles an old countryside diner, with the chairs and tables having the simple red & white hue to them, the chequerboard floor, and the iconic bar counter next to the kitchen. People call the pce 'old school,' being a part of history that had long passed. Most recipients here were either elders or lonely singles. There were, however, some modern elements present in the restaurant. Robots delivered the food instead of the waiters, and the pce has several rge television screens hanging from the walls, dispying entertainment channels to the occupants below them.

  "...stated by the police chief, the criminal investigation bureau, a week ago, conducted several searches into the offices of the multinational corporation after the recent leaks. In a shocking turn of events, a number of people were escorted out of those same pces by the police. Pictures of the former vice chairman of the company and 3 other directors have been circuting across the internet, as they were seen with handcuffs on their hands. This comes as a surprise to the business world as it confirms the solidarity of the company's terrible actions that were in those leaked documents. So far, we don't know if..."

  "My family es doing fine. Ze wife and kids are pnning to go to the beach zis weekend." Franz said in a hard German accent. "Sounds like you've caused a little commotion."

  "Yep, and I'm not pnning on stopping it." Hart replied, sarcastically rolling his eyes at the television as it dispyed a number of angles of the arrests occurring.

  "Vat do you pn on doing now? You've lost your job, so any ideas?"

  "I don't pn on working again, not yet, that is."

  "Do you have ze necessary money to make sure zat you don't starve?"

  "Money isn't an issue for me. I have enough for a full retirement."

  "Ja, but you are still zirty years old. Make uze of zat remaining life. Zings in life can still get boring ven you are left wiz nozing to do."

  The food delivery robot zoomed to their table, chiming to alert the friends of the arrival of their food and beverages. They gently pced the hot cups down and swept the rest of the items from the robot, alleviating it from its duty. Hart used a teaspoon to mix the whipped cream in his hot chocote, drizzling the dark solution into a browner one.

  "Listen, Franz." Hart sighed. "This is probably the st time I will be in the city."

  "Vat? Vwy?"

  "For the past 10 years, I've been working in a company that I thought I could use as a stepping stone for my rise into the world order. Seeing what politics had become, I only hoped to make an impact on people's lives. Working as an economic advisor and consultant for growth, there were a lot of poor children that started getting their first handful of fresh water from the piping systems that I worked with, as well as the raising of money for the indigenous and vulnerable in rge areas in the Ecuadorian regions."

  "Long story short, most of those achievements turned out to be a facade. People stole money, broke rules, went behind people's backs, created false data, and so much more that is now..." Hart looked back at the TV. "...being unfolded to the public. But to be honest, I'm still a contributor to all this mess. From now on, I'm going to take a rest from work, far from home. I feel empty after finding out about those documents. It made me guilty, and in that state of shock, unconsciously, I just threw it in the hands of the press. I...I... just need some time far away, Franz."

  Franz was drinking his tea, melting the garlic bread in his mouth with it. The two sat for a short time in silence, each thinking about their own issues. The family of 5 that was sitting across the room grabbed their clothes and left the restaurant through the door that was just beside their table. A gust of wind rushed inside, blowing the loose napkins on the table to the side. Franz's thick, rough hand pressed on the fleeing piece of paper before it fell out of bounds. He turned his attention to Hart, not with a sad, departing look but with a generous smile. Eyes squinting into his skin and the wrinkles on his cheeks forming a smooth pattern parallel to his wide smiling mouth.

  "Hart, I have been a friend to you for several years, and I know ven you are not yourself." Franz took a deep breath before continuing. "Zer have been a lot of people vo have had trouble finding zeir meaning in life. I was one myself. Seeing you wiz zose dreadful eyes reminds me of my younger self. I can see zat you need time to find yourself. I will not stop you. Razer, I support it. Don't waste time here in zis dying city. Zere is no one else vo is stopping you now except yourself. Go out zere, vere all the real action is happening, Hart." Franz gave a firm pat on Hart's back, probably the st time Hart will receive such a thing from him.

  Hart wanted to reply to Franz for his kind words, but he could think of nothing else than, "Thank you, Franz."

  * * *

  The wheels of the car rustled gently on the road, filling the car with a soothing rhythm that looped. The night road was empty. Only the light from the night moon illuminated the few details of the outside world. Hart lived retively far from dense popution centres, in a small rural town, as an attempt to avoid the intense artificial environment that had corrupted nature.

  The car made its way through the highway, down the intersection, and entered the town. Street lights were the only lights visible while every household had slept; maybe a few bedroom lights were still on for the busy te-hour students.

  Hart arrived at the steps of his home. A modest two-story building stylised with modern textures, from fresh grey walls to rge open gss rooms that faced the rge garden at the back. He grabbed a bag full of groceries from the trunk and tugged it close to his body while he took his jacket off as he pulled his front door open. Cool air seeped into his skin, cooling off the summer warmth off his skin.

  There was no one who greeted him at the door, for he was the only person living in the house. A lit chandelier, a burning firepce, a living room full of leather works from chairs to decorations, the television, the grand dark oak floor, and several rge windows that oversaw the garden in the backyard. Despite his obvious wealth, Hart had no cook, cleaner, maid, or any kind of paid servant, let alone any family.

  He made his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get a gss full of cacao-like liquid. The kitchen ptes were neatly arranged evenly on the counter, while the kitchenware was all glinting from the perfect shine of the stainless steel, and everything else was pced perfectly next to each other, an obvious work of a perfectionist or someone with too much time. Hart pced both the grocery bag and the bottle on the dining table and went off elsewhere.

  The sounds of his footsteps dissipated, followed by a click of a door, soon clicking again as the footsteps returned into hearing range. The suit had been taken off in pce of the casual blue sleeping pyjamas that Hart was more than calm enough to be walking around his house with.

  He turned to the grocery bag ying on the kitchen counter. After a few rustles and crunches, he took out a freshly baked croissant, pcing it on one of those fresh ptes on the counter.

  Feeling at home, he zily dropped onto his couch and turned on the television, eating the pastry with one hand and the other to drink the chocote mocha. Fshes from the screen bsted into Hart's motionless, sad, and lifeless eyes. There was no smile on his face. He was just staring down in one direction and aimlessly eating what was on his hand, taking turns with the croissant and the mocha, like an automated robot.

  *Click*

  The tip of a gun was hoisted behind Hart's head. The cold feeling of the metal barrel sent a temporary chill down his spine, but his expression was no different than before, almost as if he just accepted his fate.

  "No reaction?" A grunting male voice said.

  "What reaction could I have?" Hart replied while keeping his eyes forward. "Do you mind if I finish this?"

  There wasn't any reply. So Hart continued eating his food. He clicked the remote button and turned off the television.

  Droplets of rainwater started rubbing against the rge windows on his right, indicating another rainfall. Hart rolled his eyes towards where his garden would've been if it wasn't for the bnket of nightfall. Some tall, growing grass waved side to side as the wind blew them away, and the wet coating of that accumuted so far reached to the light inside, reflecting some surface of the outside. Next to the window was the live, crackling firepce that had been keeping the living room comfy from the rest of the house. At st, Hart looked at the television, now dark like outside and reflecting what was inside. Two men, one sitting on the couch and another with a mask and a gun pointed at the former.

  He gave off one st sigh and took the st chunk of croissant into his mouth.

  "Are you going to stand there or what?" Hart insulted the man, saying his st words in this world.

  BANG!

  * * *

  Opening his eyes, the bright white floor of an unknown pce came into view for Hart. There was nothing but whiteness all over the pce, like an infinite void, but the only difference was that the dark, luminous colour that you would expect a void to be was actually a blinding white shine.

  Hart didn't care, though. Slouched and knelt down onto the white marble floor, Hart was curled up like a porcupine. His face was still dead and soulless, staring down at the ground as a defeated man, one who had lost everything in his life. The edges of his eyes were not darkened by the shadow that covered the rest of his face but by the effect of his own exhaustion, and the far corners of his mouth had drooped down, which pstered a terrible frown.

  While he was staring into the void, two feet, both wearing shiny brown leather shoes, and a little gnce over their top indicated the person also had well-knitted grey pants, clicked down in front of him, stopping before Hart's lowered head to let him know the person's presence.

  Seeing that he's not alone, Hart gred up, blinking several times as the bright light rushed into his eyes all at once, and once they adjusted, the face of the mysterious man was still unclear from the shadow under the overhead light. However, the man was clearly young from the smooth, soft texture of his skin. Yet something about him felt awfully familiar to Hart, almost as if he already knew him.

  "Why did you do it?" The man, with a voice not rackety like Hart's but simir in tone, stared down at Hart and asked.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Hart asked.

  "All that money and power, why did you give it up? It was everything that every man and woman desired. Why did you throw it away like it was nothing?"

  Hart scoffed, turning to the side in spite as he did. "What would you know about it? You're still too young to understand."

  "Am I? Yes, I am young, but—" He took a short breath. "We both know how much of a deal we were... and despite that fact... you decided to change. Wouldn't that make you the unwise one?"

  "Shut up..." Hart gred up once more; this time, his eyes beamed aggressively at the man's face, clearly seeing a younger version of himself. "You'll still end up just like me after a few years in my shoes. Don't forget that."

  His younger self was much more juvenile in comparison. The dark rings under the eyes that were on his old self weren't there but were completely covered by an even skin tone of an energised and self-preserving version of himself. Even after the immense stress and workload that both of them had at their separate times, his younger self seemed more well off compared to him. It was somewhat nostalgic to witness the past once more; however, it didn't hide the fact that there was a terrible side that he had at the time.

  "How would you feel if you found out that all of the wealth you gained was from hurting others?" Hart questioned his younger self while still keeping his angry expression.

  "I'd shut my mouth and accept it. Yes, I may not have been in your shoes at the time. However, there's still a clear sense about what you can throw away and what you can't." The younger Hart replied, unchanging in his dull expression, revealing that cold part of him. A man that was all about the money and only focused on his own health and derived around the need to use others as his pedestal. His voice turned quieter than before but more harsh in tone. "And you shouldn't have thrown away all of that, you know?"

  "What the hell... Was I really that much of an idiot?" Hart cursed under his breath.

  "You were, but you've changed... A lot." The younger Hart said, contrasting heavily on 'A lot' as he had a short pause before it.

  "For the better." The older Hart corrected.

  "I say otherwise. Giving up on the immense power you had just to save the society that rejected you and left you on the dirt is completely mindless on your part. There were no benefits to helping others. What kind of fool couldn't see that?"

  "Fool? You're the idiot who gave away your life to corporate life. Giving up on your humanity and freedom to achieve what? Boundless wealth?"

  "We. We gave our lives to money. Don't forget that." The young man knocked Hart's head with the back of his finger, receiving a hard sp in return from the tter. "Rude. I may have done the wrong thing, but we both have done all the same actions till my current time. The rest is your fault."

  "And can't you see that I gave it away so I can make up for what we have done? How can you judge my own actions when you're the one who is still bound to experience the true reality of the world? You may not agree with me, but at least I know what's right or wrong now!" Hart roared back at his young self.

  "High hopes you have, but I won't judge anymore. The mistakes and cruelty that you committed still stand, regardless of whether your heart became purer or not. What can you even do to prove that you will do any better in another life? —If you can, that is."

  His eyes drew back up with energy. Hart had already made up his mind on it, as he grunted, "Anything that proves you wrong."

  As the younger man listened to the sharp response, he turned around, facing his back at Hart, arms crossed as he observed the emptiness. Hart was left on the floor, waiting for what his young, foolish version would say next.

  Shockingly, rather than acting in his usual blunt, arrogant manner, the young Hart instead smiled and ughed like he was agreeing to the sentiment, catching even Hart off guard.

  "Curious indeed." The young Hart remarked. He continued to stare into the abyss, allowing the two of them to get some space to themselves.

  "What... No...Who do you miss the most?" The younger Hart asked at some point during the silent moment.

  "Huh?" Hart returned, still not up-to-date with his younger self's thinking.

  Young Hart stopped to turn back at his counterpart. "I wanted to know what one would experience in such an occurrence, and if so, what their treasured memories are, especially those of my own self." He was now looking at Hart with a bright, joyous expression, no longer with that timid, angry look. He eventually returned to face the other way again, however.

  "People usually describe it as 'your life fshing before your eyes'. Did you happen to have experienced the same occurrence? If you did, there must be something from all those split memories is coming back to you that caught most of your attention, right?"

  "Yes... But what does it have to do with you?"

  "I'm just curious." The young adult in front of Hart was rubbing his chin, as if there were a long stretch of a beard hanging from it. "After living up till now, what or who stands on top of your head? Is it the nostalgia of the past, the short moment of success at some point, or even the long journey throughout the years that truly touches your heart? Or maybe..." He threw his right arm into the air, gesturing the hand sassily while he gred at Hart with the corner of his eye. "Is it someone you cared about?"

  There was a short pause. Hart rexed his neck, bending his head down in thought as he fiddled with his fingers. He rubbed his forehead with the tip of his index finger and thumb, stroked his eyebrows, cracked his knuckles against his jaw, and fiddled with his hair while he tried to find the right answer. Hart, the older one, looked confused, a face that was filled with thought and uncertainty. The question was rather sudden, but it was truly interesting and one that Hart originally didn't think of until now. As a result, young Hart was patiently waiting for the other for his answer, inevitably being put on hold.

  Then, at st, it hit him. Hart returned to his younger self with widened eyes, now staring at his back, clearly ready to answer. But something stopped him. Forcing him to pull his head down again as he was unable to mutter the words.

  "What is it?" Young Hart asked, still holding his patience.

  "I'm not sure... it's been so long since... " The old Hart whispered under his breath, but it was audible enough to be heard by the other Hart.

  "Her," the young Hart remarked. "That's who you're referring to, right? It's Luci, isn't it?"

  No response except the slight nod from Hart.

  "We both miss her, Hart. There may be years of difference between us, yet... we... have one person that we truly loved."

  An odd silence filled the air around them. Hart, even now, didn't want to remove the frown on his face or get up from the floor.

  The young Hart pocketed his hands inside his pants and stared down at the sad man that is his older self. The former threw his head back, taking notice of something else in the distance. Clicking his shoe on the floor, he signalled back to the old Hart to stare at the same thing.

  "Someone is here for you."

  As Hart jolted his head up. The surrounding environment, being whiter than fresh snow and brighter than the daylight, went out in a blink of an eye. The darkness that would've been seen at night had enveloped Hart's eyes. Everything went pitch dark. All except something in the distance in front of him. It was something of an orb, a bright, glowing orb. Like a single light bulb in a vacant, empty room, it was the only thing that helped Hart see the rest of his body. But... the other Hart was now nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared by the time he beamed his head up.

  The darkness was preventing him from seeing everything around him, but there is no doubt that his younger version had vanished into thin air. The young man would have been in sight even if he sprang away with full force, so where could he have vanished off to? No matter, there was a pressing matter at hand, one that Hart couldn't understand why it was happening.

  "What the hell is going on here?" Hart thought to himself. "Where am I?"

  A part of him felt that there was an odd feeling of being lost; however, another side of him was experiencing otherwise, a sensation as if he were safe. It wasn't clear to Hart at all. None of the two should be next to each other; it was always one way or the other.

  However, that was about to be answered. The orb he had quickly gnced at previously was illuminating closer to him. Slowly closing the gap between him and it, an invisible force was driving it.

  There was no time to waste. Hart leaped up, both arms raised up in a fighting stance. Not knowing what this pce or that orb is, Hart's best bet was to be as cautious as he could be.

  What was it? An illusion? An alien? The gates of Heaven? No—If it was a gate, it had to be the gate of Hell for me. Whatever this thing was, there had to be some sort of logical reason for it to appear by Hart.

  "What in the Devil is this?" Hart murmured once the orb had reached his face.

  "That's not quite the reaction I thought you, sir, would have." A strange female voice said.

  "Who said that?" Hart jumped back, not knowing what to do. His fists were flying back and forth, readying for every direction he anticipated.

  "Aren't you a little jumpy? Seems about right for someone who addresses the Devil in his shock." The mysterious female voice rang again.

  Hart, however, was not a fan of the situation. Whoever was talking sounded so calm in comparison to his dire, fleeting presentation. No matter where he turned, there wasn't a single sign of life around him. Not a single physical body, that is...

  "Sir, is there something wrong?"

  "Who are you addressing?" Hart demanded.

  "You, sir." The voice replied.

  "Where are you? Are you a devil?"

  "That's hardly a question. Of course not!" Taking offence, the voice almost shrieked in resistance. If Hart could see the woman talking, she'd probably have her arms crossed with her mouth pouted in disappointment.

  "Then what?!" Hart yelled in dire need of an answer.

  "No need to yell, sir. I am right in front of you."

  Hart, even now, confused from the sudden shock, jolted no differently than maniac. The one that he was now observing had no visible physical body, only a glowing sphere that was somehow floating mid-air. After realising the orb had no intention of harming him and that he might have overreacted a bit, Hart lowered his stance but not fully as his shoulders were slightly raised upwards.

  "This?!" Hart asked in bewilderment.

  "Finally! Yes, you, sir, are finally facing me properly. Why must you act so crazed?" The female voice seemed to be rejoicing from the change in tone, followed by the orb bouncing in the air. "I'm sorry that I could not take a more proper form than this; however, my current abilities deny me of any change."

  "What... are you?"

  "I..." The orb took a breath of pause. "...I am a guardian angel, an advocate of truth and justice. At the moment, I happen to be assigned to be both of them for you, meaning I will be your guardian angel."

  "Umm... yeah, sure." Hart, not convinced, slowly irked away, keeping his distance. "Mind expining what is going on?"

  The voice gasped in disbelief, and the orb smmed onto the floor, appearing to be bowing from the gesture. There was a short pause, ter being filled by the repeated apologies of the voice.

  "Forgive me for my te take on your situation, sir! I should've been more informative!" Zooming up and down, the orb kept repeating the same sentence every time it went on for a full loop. "Forgive me! Forgive me!"

  Uhh! Hart, in response, kept urging the orb to stop, reassuring it that it was fine and there were no issues. The drama pyed on for a good time before both parties finally tired themselves away.

  Hart crossed his legs together as he sat down, while the orb floated around his level. Both rested on the ft, cold surface of the infinite void, completely quiet. Speaking first, Hart asked the orb, "What is this pce?"

  "This is a space where the dead can take a moment to think about themselves, a recess between life and death." The orb replied. Hart finally took notice of its calming softness. A gentle, feminine voice that was rather out of pce for the environment, yet a forgiving gift to Hart's stressful situation.

  "So I'm really dead, huh?"

  "It seems so, sir."

  "Then, what now? Does my soul go elsewhere?"

  "Yes, it seems so."

  "Well, which one is it then?" Hart smiled unconfidently.

  "What do you mean?" The voice was lost from its tone.

  "Hell or Heaven? No—I already know that I'm going to Hell. That's for sure. I've done far more bad than good, so it's only reasonable to be punished for it."

  "Huh?"

  Hart continued to randomly talk to himself, condemning his actions one by one. "Never did I try to assist in any volunteer work in so many dire times. –Completely lost under all of my recklessness... My own coworker called me a..."

  And so on he went.

  "Wha–?" The orb barely mustered a word before Hart barged in with his mumbling.

  "Again, I failed to be of any use to others when—"

  "Sir—"

  "And all those days of me wasting my time in my house—"

  "But—"

  "What an idiot I was..."

  "SIR!"

  Finally snapping out of his useless gibberish, Hart was knocked back into his normal state of mind just before he lost control of it. Quite literally, as some invisible force spped him hard on the cheek, causing it to glow red. Hart rubbed the soft dome of his pulsing cheek. Not wanting to get ahead of himself anymore, he forgave the orb that had resumed its wave of apologies.

  As the confusion cleared away, the orb was now the one that carried the conversation, telling Hart about what his current condition is.

  "There will be no punishments or any form of reckoning for your actions, sir." The orb expined.

  "But for what reason do I deserve a pardon for my actions?" Hart demanded.

  "Don't be mistaken; this is not a pardon. The purpose is for you, sir, to receive a chance at redemption."

  "If that's the case, what must I do or complete to fulfil it?"

  "A matter of providing a helping hand," the orb said.

  "In what field?"

  "A pnet, not Earth, but one that is not so different from it. We request your help to bring peace to its nds."

  A pnet not so different from Earth? There was no way to make sense of these words.

  "You are not making a lot of sense to me. What pnet—"

  "Baetyl," the orb stated with a firm tone. "The pnet of the gods and goddesses. That is where we will go."

  The orb seemed to finish its words, but just as it was about to be questioned by Hart, this one sentence shut him down: "...And where you, sir, will be reborn."

  "What do you mean by 'reborn'?"

  "'Reborn' in 'coming back to life,' sir. Unlike the normal process of life, you will be sent to a remote area in your current form as an adult instead of undertaking the cycle of being physically born from the womb of a mother as a baby."

  There was no response from Hart, but he was thinking to himself as a result of the sudden information. "Reborn? A person like me? Why?"

  "Because you hold a merit that not so many others possess. You may be wondering why, right?" The orb said. "Experience. Not only of working to great lengths, but also of facing a great struggle against your own existence, one that pushed you to your limits despite every attempt to quell the suffering. Even so, you continue to fight it."

  "Yeah... I just don't know when to give up, do I?" Hart beamed at the empty, dark sky, probably reflecting on his choices.

  The orb floated up to his nose, dragging his attention back to it. It was rather strange to feel comfortable next to an inanimate glowing object that he felt the need to fight against a few minutes ago. Hart needed a new start, one that he would not waste on the wrong path.

  "As we do so..." The orb continued. "We, of course, need to provide a great form of contribution. You, sir, don't need to fret about the perplexity of the journey too much."

  Hart kept his patience and waited to see if the orb had any more to say, which it did.

  "We will provide you the luxury to bring a personal possession with you, any that you may think of. There is still a limit to what you can bring. However, I doubt that it will be of any nuisance in your picking. There are some rules, though, for example..."

  "She keeps mentioning 'we.'." Hart thought as the orb went on a long interval of talk regarding the rules on what 'possession' he may bring with him. "I really want to ask her about it, but that would be too much to ask from my side, so I'll be grateful of what I am getting right now—"

  "So how about it, sir?" The orb questioned, interrupting Hart's mental processing.

  "Huh?"

  "What is it that you will bring then, sir? "Were you even listening?"

  "I was. Sorry, I must've dozed off a few seconds ago."

  "Well... did you make a choice, then? Or... do you still need a bit of time?"

  "Maybe, but..." Hart stopped to think, his face puzzled and bnk from expression, as he had to make another decision that would change his life—his new life, that is.

  It shouldn't be a hard choice, though. If it is a new life that he is being offered, then an unimaginably powerful weapon would suffice to defeat any opponent or even an unattainable skill that can pce him above others with ease or an object that negates all that might harm him. Even so, all of this is nothing that Hart wanted—not even close. If he did, there wouldn't be any difference between his old and new selves. In other words, it would prematurely continue his previous path to find power, the very reason why he was here in the first pce.

  No, he mustn't. Hart quickly jolted away from the thought to acquire immediate strength and set for something else. Life without its challenges is also a seed of destruction for anyone's growth, so even if he was granted a very kind blessing of power, a world with gods, that is what the orb said, is bound to have its own type of surprises and mysteries that can whip away Hart if he's not careful.

  He needed friends, not just a simple belonging or two, people who he could trust, those who would have no question when following him. But who? If he chooses, let's say, an apple, that is what he will be left with, nothing more or less. So, if he brought a friend with him, the both of them would face the issue of the great unknown that lurks in 'Baetyl'. Then a package, a BIG one, that contains both people he can rely on and items that he may need, is what Hart needed, but what?

  "I got an idea, but I'm not sure if it is allowed or not." Hart said to the orb.

  "Go on then. Let me hear it. Who knows, it might actually work under the rules that I mentioned earlier." The orb waited for Hart's response with excitement, sounding completely relieved to get this whole thing over with.

  Hart said something to the orb, the tter nodding while he did so. It was evident Hart didn't need to repeat or change his choice, as he backed his head away. After the orb gently hoofed in the air, a bright bst of light exploded behind it. A portal of some kind. The entrance was not visible from where Hart stood. Though, he didn't need to. A light sensation filled him inside him. His shoes strayed away from the ground, and his body rose like a balloon. A force was taking advantage of his immobile state, dragging him and the orb closer to the epicentre of the portal. Soon, everything went dark.