It's seven o'clock on a cold evening in a city called ITEFE.

A smell of burnt ash covers his clothes as he walks through the streets; dirt and mud are everywhere. He turns his eyes to the right to see lakes of garbage and remains, rocks, sand, and God knows what else. The area has a horrible view, and to make it even worse, the smell is unbearable.

Kosie looks to the left to see a cold structure of houses, grey walls all around with a few wooden signs for those who actually know how to read. One after another, they all have a simple, basic foundation, and while he walks down the empty street for about ten minutes, he finally stops.

He's now standing at the entrance of an old house. He checks his half-torn pocket and then pulls out a metal key.

Silence reigns here while the dusty wooden roofs of the city hang in the last sunlight of a tedious long day. It's night now, and all the neighbors have gone home as a black cloud surrounds the sky.

"These craps are everywhere; curse them," Kosie yells at the entrance ahead of him. If he were in another region, he wouldn't dare to scream like a maniac, but here in the city of insanity, it's a normal day when you get to watch gangsters having a war while policemen tell them to keep it down a bit. Madness is everywhere.

The house we're about to enter is undoubtedly the oldest building in all of ITEFE.

A heavy iron knocker is attached to the wooden door, and a green color at the corners of the footpath indicates that there hasn't been a cleanup in years. A half-broken roof with dozens of pigeon nests on it gives the same miserable impression as the other houses nearby.

Kosie knocks on the door three times, even though he has the key in his hand.

"There's no one inside, you know!" our child talks to himself as he observes the six open locks on the left side of the door—locks he wishes he had never unlocked.

"But I already did that, didn't I?" Kosie's thoughts.

After that, the dark-haired child enters and slams the door behind him while his mouth murmurs specific rubbish words.

...

Inside the house, Kosie is surrounded by four silent walls, an old mattress, a lantern, and a roof—nothing more, nothing less. Number of rooms: one room; number of doors: two doors—and that's it!

No windows, no fireplace, and a huge hole in the left corner big enough to hide a body.

Even a rat would think twice before taking this room for a living, but Kosie didn't have the luxury to choose. No, it was between this filthy house or sleeping in the streets outside, but somehow he could call this "A HOME." Maybe not in the same way he used to call his real house, where his brother Mark and Mr. Graham waited for him, but at least here he’s safe.

And while he marches around the small space, the brown floor of the room creaks at each step the boy takes.

"God save the queen," Kosie wonders, although he never understands why people say this all the time.

She wasn't the nicest person on earth, but at least in her time, life meant something—but not now, not after she's gone. Whether it was jail or death, all the people of ITEFE wish for her return or at least to know what actually happened to her.

He looks straight ahead to see the second door of the room, green and old, made of wood, with a smell of blood and stench coming through it.

The door has the number "1474" painted with yellow ink on its surface.

"Another one, great!" he thinks, and for a reason you'll understand later, our boy always hated doors, no matter what shade or color they took.

He ignores the strange door ahead of him for the two-hundredth time and reaches his half-paralyzed fingers to touch a small broken lantern that was in the middle of the room; then he barely kneels down.

He does all of this blind, surrounded by darkness, and as if his feet memorize every inch of the poor place, he lights the lantern.

His wondering eyes glow; he is almost able to touch the shadows around him, but he isn't scared of them as a child would be! No, Kosie has more fears to deal with than a stupid shadow. While a small torch clears some of the darkness, he turns his face to the right; his brown eyes can't leave the wall that faces him now.

"Beware the refl..." the child reads an unfinished phrase written on the grey wall, then adds, "Why have you left this line, Mr. Graham?" A cold expression slips through his innocent face.

"Is it a sign?" Kosie thinks as he turns around and goes to the left side of the room, where a small bed lies on the floor next to a huge hole full of dirt.

He drops the lantern slowly next to the old mattress, then he closes his eyes and pictures himself sleeping in the bed, covered with warm, torn pillows and...

...

Four years earlier, on the other side of door 1474, in a small library, two little children were sitting at a mahogany desk, both of them well-dressed.

"Tim's little face was all red, his tears fell to the muddy earth..." Kosie spoke out loud.

"Poor Tim!" a voice whispers while Kosie stops for a second.

"Well, what happened next?" Mark asks his brother as he points to the pages where Kosie was reading from.

"Sympathy! Why can't they just use something else when it comes to children?" Kosie asks himself.

"Ahh! Not again with your monologues; just keep reading already," Mark blabbers, then snatches the book from Kosie's hand and sits on the golden floor of the library.

"Hi! Give me that."

"I will when you stop your silly comments."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kosie demands while Mark puffs his cheeks with air, then answers him.

"Why do all stories use sympathy? Such a mistake! This book is way too low for me; it's for children, not for me, the great noble Kosie!"

"What?" Kosie's eyes wonder while he sees Mark laughing and making funny notes.

"Don't ruin this for me; just read like Father does and keep your comments to yourself!"

"Ahah! Then maybe you should read it yourself..." Kosie is about to finish his sentence but instead bites his lips and lowers his eyes in a sad expression.

Silence spreads in the small library for a second before a joyful voice cuts through the cold moment.

"You're right; they should use something else instead of sympathy. Come on, let's pick another story where the hero is really a hero and not some crying child," Mark says while his white-blinded eyes glare at Kosie.

A sense of relief touches Kosie as he takes a breath.

"Fine, let's find another story to read, but..."

"But?" Mark asks.

"I won't save my comments for myself," Kosie laughs, then snatches a book with a red cover from the shelves.

"Fine! Just keep it short," Mark says, then fumbles with the base of the wooden chair and gets back to his place as best as he can.

"Mulysa!" Kosie announces in a dramatic way as he reads the title of the book he has now.

"Mulysa? What does it mean?" Mark asks, then gathers both his hands in excitement.

"Guess we're about to find out!" Kosie adds, then opens the first page.

...

Back to the present day, where Kosie is standing in front of the old bed.

He opens his eyes, and while all these memories cross the boy's mind in less than a second, all these events that happened behind the door with the number 1474, where Kosie's house existed, are now no more than simple flashes for him; the ugly view of the mattress drags him straight back to reality.

"It could have been worse," he thinks as he throws his cheap vest to the brown ground and tries to console himself.

Our boy stands still for a while as if he has a decision to make, taking a moment of silence to catch his breath. He gazes at the mattress; his vision gets hazy, and his body begs him to fall into bed, but...

"Let's go for a walk! Come on! Besides, I haven't checked the path in two weeks," a voice talks to Kosie as he grabs a white piece of chalk hidden under the bed, and while the white powder covers his little hand, his eyes tighten, filled with rage.

"Waste of time." He breaks the chalk bar, then throws it to the corner. This anger isn't because of the small voice that Kosie heard; no, it is something more than the hallucination of a tired child who just came back from a long day at the factory.

"But what if?" Kosie thinks again, then observes the second door of the room, the one with the numbers on its surface, of course—the strange door that, unlike the exit door, has no keyhole in it.

A few seconds pass before he kneels again and picks up the broken chalk off the ground.

"Fine!" the boy says, while his feet move toward the numbered door.

Hesitating, he passes his left hand over the wooden handle while memories take him back three years into the past.

...

Three years earlier, in a small room filled with chemical substances, a blue candle attached to the ceiling illuminated the place just enough to see two figures in it—a man and a child.

The man sits in front of a large table filled with boiling and blood samples; he takes his time mixing various chemical substances.

Meanwhile, the boy sits quietly on the ground, his back against the wall of the room while he gazes up, and although there were no stars here, little Kosie wished.

"Please, God, save him; save my brother."

The two of them haven't left this room for almost three hours.

"What if he can't find it? What if Dad can't find the answer to this?" Kosie wonders, and for a small second, he falls asleep.

The poor kid hasn't blinked an eye since yesterday, waiting for Mr. Graham to give him an answer to his question, "Will Mark live?"

"Son!" a gentle voice wakes the boy from his little nap, and while he opens his eyes, Kosie yells, "Don't! Don't you dare say it!"

Mr. Graham holds a small knife in his hand; he shows it to Kosie.

"No way! I'm not going to let you do it! No!" Kosie yells as he jumps up from his place. He bites his lips for a second while he gives Graham a crazy, mad expression.

"My boy," Mr. Graham says while he grips the knife tighter.

"We must give him mercy before his condition gets worse."

Kosie can't blink; his breath gets heavier, and suddenly an idea comes to his mind.

"What about going outside the doors?" Kosie's voice shudders as if he can't believe his own words.

"We can save him; please let me go!"

"I have read the book and..."

"You what?" Mr. Graham tightens his jaws for a second, then observes his child.

"I'm talking about Mulysa City, where a man named Frederick has the cure for this curse; it's all mentioned in the book, and..."

"And you sit here like a coward while Mom died," Kosie spells the words and waits for an answer he'll never receive.

"The book! Nonsense; it's too dangerous! Listen to me, boy, I lost a son today, and I'm not willing to lose another one! I can't treat Mark; NO ONE CAN!"

"Can't? I thought an alchemist didn't know such a word."

Mr. Graham's confidence falters for a moment; he doesn't want to admit his failure.

"True, but this curse we're dealing with is different; it's..."

"Cut the lies!" Kosie interrupts his father for the first time, then adds, "I know what the royal family made you do; it's pretty sarcastic for a man of science like yourself to hide in a magical shelter here like a rat! Well, I'm not you, and if there is a small chance to save Mark, then I'll take it!" Kosie screams.

The great alchemist stands shocked in his place, and before he has a chance to react to these words, Kosie has already shut the door of the room behind him.

...

As he stands in the endless corridor outside his father's lab, regret tears him apart, but his small feet walk through the magical corridor; the echo of his steps is his only companion.

...

"I HATE YOU."

Those were the last three words he told his foster father, Mr. Graham, before he ran from the house through the precise door he stands in front of right now.

And now, on the present day, after three years, Kosie understands his father's warnings—only too late.

Finding Frederick is not as easy as he thought; the man is a royal priest, and the odds of meeting such a person in the mad city of ITEFE are zero, but...

"Enough!" Kosie yells and slams the numbered door with his leg to reveal a huge hallway behind it—a hallway that has vast territory compared to the small space we were in at Kosie's room, although it has always been part of it.

"God save the queen; God, please help me," the child gathers his hands and prays one last time, then steps forward. He has promised himself never to return here again, but...

"It hasn't changed at all!" Kosie wonders.

He walks slowly down what looks like an endless corridor, a silver ground with remarkable structure, blue candles attached to the ceiling lighting his way as he turns his head left and right after each step he takes.

Alone in the blue lights, the ceiling is higher than any building Kosie has ever seen in ITEFE City—so large, so vast, and beautiful—as if he is sitting in the void now and there is no such thing outside here, like he is at the gate of a different world, a world that Kosie used to live in but not anymore.

Hundreds, no, millions of green doors surround him from both sides, one after the other as he passes them; he has done this a million times before.

He has searched behind these wooden surfaces before, hoping that one of them would take him back to his family.

All doors have the same color, size, and the "X" mark on them.

"Welcome back, Kosie!" he yells.

Just after that, the sound of his echo answers him.

"Welcome back, Kosie!"

The boy smiles for a moment then slaps himself.

"Have you missed me, guys?" Kosie yells again, but the answer is cold and similar to before.

"I'm losing it," he thinks while the echo of his steps is his only companion, as usual, while the place repeats itself; only a beginning, there seems to be no end to this strange path.

...

After two hours, the boy drags his feet to a door with no mark on it, and as the corridor continues, this point is where Kosie stops searching. Behind him are many marked green doors; ahead of him, who knows how many more there are, if this corridor has an end in the first place? From all the elegance we saw before, there is one thing to smell: death.

All these gorgeous structures that no human could ever achieve are just a cover for the blood and ugliness underneath them. Deep down, Kosie knows there are hundreds of bodies, but "whose bodies, and why?" he never dares to answer these questions, and he never will.

"This is it," Kosie says, then uses the chalk he has to draw another "X" on the wooden surface; another hope, another chance—who knows?

He takes a breath, then opens the door to see an empty room behind it. He stares for a minute to digest the whole event.

"Same result," Kosie thinks, then raises his eyes to the golden ceiling.

"This is my punishment for disobeying you, huh?" the small child says as he punches the wall beside him.

"TWO YEARS!" his face turns red.

"I've searched behind these damn doors for two years, two years! And for what? To get back to a father who didn't care about his son and a sick brother who is probably dead now!" Kosie wants to say out loud, but he short collapses and loses consciousness before his voice can come out. Working in the factory all day has taken the best of him.

...

Once again, silence is the master here in the strange path where Kosie lies down in the middle of it until...

"Poor kid." Kosie's mouth quietly says, although the boy is probably in dreamland!

The blue light of the candles reflects a black shadow that rises from the boy's body. Slowly, it moves and ascends off the silver ground into the air, and after a few seconds, a silver-clothed man appears out of nowhere instead of the shadow.

The man takes a few seconds to observe the boy, then gently lifts Kosie's body off the ground and rushes back through the corridor. The man wears a silver hat, silver boots, and even carries a silver cane—a ghost, that's what anyone would say if they saw him.

The sound of footsteps spreads through the corridor, and at last, the man reaches the filthy room of Kosie and places the tired kid in his bed.

"See you tomorrow," the man says, then as he transfers the key of the house from Kosie's pocket to his hand, he closes the exit door behind him.

...

Outside Kosie's humble residence, the deserted streets are just like every night, full of mud and a few rats until a sound of neighing cuts through the silent scene as a silver carriage, dragged by two brown horses, stops.

The previous man opens the carriage door and sits on the soft sofa.

"You're three hours late!" a voice says to him.

He gives his companion a cold greeting by touching his silver hat, then he turns to the right and answers as the horse-drawn vehicle departs.

"I had a small issue to deal with; now let's go."

...

A few minutes later, the two men inside the vehicle don't exchange a word after their small conversation.

"He still has hope? After all this time?" the silver man thinks as he moves his silver hat away.

"No, it's just an emotional breakdown; he'll forget about going home soon," the man thinks again, as a confident smile gives his solid face a human texture.

"But what if he doesn't? What if he discovers that I'm the reflection his father warned him about?" he whispers.

(tick...

tack...

tock...)

The idea frightens him for a moment, causing him to hold his chest, then touch the window, as the sound of a clock rings in his head to remind him of his curse.

(tick...

tack...

tock...)

One way or another, the threads between him and Kosie will always be there, waiting.

...............................................................

{...Chapter one ends...}

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