Kapitel 1
Years later, Chein would often wonder whether everything had truly begun on that rainy morning. Perhaps it had started long before. Or perhaps it had never truly begun at all. On that morning, Chein was five years old.Outside, the city of Graz lay beneath a dense curtain of rain. Gray clouds concealed the sky as countless raindrops tapped softly against windows before finding their way across glass, rooftops, and streets below.
The city was slowly waking. Trams glided almost silently through the rain-soaked avenues, cars left shimmering trails across the wet asphalt, and people disappeared beneath raised hoods, moving in quiet rhythm with the falling rain. On the fifth floor of a modern apartment building, a small boy sat motionless before the large living room window. Chein loved rainy days. Not because he thought the rain was beautiful. But because it never fell at random.
While everyone else saw countless droplets wandering aimlessly across the glass, Chein saw something entirely different. Every drop seemed to follow an invisible path. Some merged together, others separated again, yet none of them truly moved by chance. It was as though they obeyed an order that only he could perceive.His eyes followed a single raindrop.Before it reached a junction where several thin streams of water crossed, Chein already knew which path it would take. Slowly, he raised a finger and traced its movement a few centimeters in front of the window. The raindrop followed exactly that path.Then another.And another. Not once was he wrong. To Chein, there was nothing remarkable about it. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the world any differently. Just as other children knew that fire was hot or ice was cold, he simply knew where the raindrops would go. It wasn’t reasoning. It wasn’t guessing.
He simply knew.
A faint smile appeared on his face. Not because his ability surprised him. But because it felt familiar. As though the raindrops were speaking a language he couldn’t explain, yet somehow understood. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread drifted from the kitchen. The soft clatter of dishes echoed through the apartment as his mother prepared breakfast. Somewhere in the background, the morning news murmured from the television, but Chein paid it no attention. His entire world existed on the other side of the window. He watched another raindrop. Just before it reached the crossing of two narrow streams, Chein closed his eyes for a brief moment.
When he opened them again, the drop was already moving exactly where he had expected it to go. For the first time that morning, a slight frown crossed his face. He hadn’t predicted the raindrop’s path. He had remembered it. And although he was far too young to understand the difference, that single moment would one day become the first trace of a mystery far older than humanity itself. “Chein?” His mother’s voice drifted softly from the kitchen. He heard her, but he didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the window, as though something was happening beyond the glass that demanded his complete attention.“Chein? Breakfast is ready. ”Only then did he pull his gaze away from the rain. “I’m coming. ”Yet he remained where he was for another moment.
A single raindrop slowly slid down the windowpane. Before it reached a narrow stream of water, Chein already knew which direction it would take. He watched quietly as his expectation proved correct. Only then did he stand up. His mother met him in the living room with a warm smile and stopped beside him. She followed his gaze across the rain-soaked rooftops of Graz. To her, it was simply another gray morning like countless others.“You’re watching the rain again. ”Chein nodded. “It’s changing.” She smiled. “Rain is always changing.” “Not like this.” For the first time, she noticed the quiet seriousness in his voice. “What do you mean?”Chein hesitated.
It was the same problem he always faced. He knew exactly what he was seeing, yet the moment he tried to describe it, the right words seemed to disappear. “The paths...” “What paths?” “The raindrops’. ”His mother stepped closer to the window and looked outside. Hundreds of raindrops slid down the glass, merging together, separating again, and finally disappearing at the bottom of the pane. To her, everything looked completely random. “Maybe you’re just imagining it. ”Chein gently shook his head. “No.” “How can you be so sure?” He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes followed a single raindrop as it slowly broke away from a thin stream of water. Before it reached the next junction, Chein already knew which direction it would take.Exactly as he expected, it followed that path.“They repeat themselves,” he said quietly.His mother frowned slightly.“What repeats itself?”“The patterns.”She remained silent.Children often spoke about things adults couldn’t see. Invisible friends, talking animals, or imaginary worlds were all part of childhood. But with Chein, it felt different. He never sounded as though he were making something up. He described his observations with a calm certainty, as if they were obvious to everyone.“And where do these patterns come from?” she asked with genuine curiosity.
Chein looked back at the rain.The water flowed endlessly across the glass, as though it were telling a story that no one else could hear. “I don’t know.” He paused for a moment. “But they were already there before the rain began to fall. ”His mother didn’t reply. For the first time, she found herself wondering whether her son was truly seeing something hidden from everyone else. “Come on,” she said at last with a gentle smile, softly brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Your breakfast is getting cold.” Chein nodded. Together, they walked toward the kitchen. Just before leaving the window behind, he glanced back one last time. For the briefest moment, he had the strange feeling that one of the raindrops hadn’t moved at all.It had been waiting for him.
