Pigeons driven to the very edge of a cliff. Their miserable plight is not so different from mine. Who could possibly define me? When I wake with the sensation of my eyelids drooping, I am forced into a play of unknown senses that only a newborn entering the world of the living might feel. My pathetic fate is nothing short of laughable now. Yes, before the crashing waves of time, I break helplessly again today.

Never dreaming that beyond those waves, I would encounter a being crumbling like shimmering light on the water.

I can't tell if I mistimed the jump or just mistimed the stove. While I was chewing on a hard-boiled egg that was as dry and suffocating as my own life, that damn sensation—now so familiar it's practically second nature—hit me, and my vision flipped upside down. When I lift my eyelids again, it is, as expected, an unfamiliar place and an unfamiliar time.

Even though I've grown used to time travel, it still feels just as foul as ever. I look around with an even more sunken expression.

What entered my sight can only be described as a color I have never seen in my entire life.