Who are you?!
The ticking of the clock filling the silence of the room is almost unbearable. Not because of its volume, nor because of the sound itself, but because he has to endure it every single day. That steady, repetitive tick, tick, tick.
It has long since become part of his daily life—and, in fact, a fitting reflection of it. That monotony, or rather those endless repetitions, could almost be seen as punishment. He lived his life like everyone else, after all. Classes, work, sleep. And yet, no one else seemed to complain. So was it him? Was he the problem? Or why couldn't he endure this dreary cycle anymore?
His head tilts back almost on its own, eyes fixed on the ceiling as a heavy, strained sigh escapes his lips. The big hand of the clock lands on twelve, which makes him officially late for his lecture. A disgrace, as his father would put it—that he doesn't value university, or more importantly, the money that is being wasted with every missed class. Sure, it was technically his own money, but somehow his dad seemed more hurt by it than he was. Maybe because Liam had to hand over half of it to him ... or maybe he really did care about his son's future? Ha, yeah right. A laugh, followed by another sigh, pushes past his lips. It was unfair of him to think so cynically of his father.
After all, the man hadn't had it easy. And yet he had tried—tried to give Liam something. He cooked for him every single day, helped him with homework as best as his knowledge allowed. He even read him silly fairy tales at night. There was one story Liam wanted to hear again and again. So many times, in fact, that the characters and their world had found their way into his dreams. What was it called again ... something with ... hmm ... wasn't it ...
His thoughts don't even have time to settle before a loud bang shakes him to the core. The walls rattle, the shelves tremble, the floor itself vibrates beneath his feet. An earthquake? No, impossible. Not here. Then what—? A white glow pushes its way out of his bedroom, flooding toward him. It practically blinds him.
For a few seconds, shock pins him in place, but then curiosity and confusion start to mingle in his chest. His breath grows heavier, his gaze fixed on the radiant bedroom door. Aside from his ragged breathing and the thunder in his chest, silence presses down once again. Even the clock seems to have stopped ticking.
His trembling body, his wide eyes, his entire attention remain locked on the bedroom. What the hell just happened in there? It takes a while for him to gather the courage to bolt out of the apartment. But just as he begins to rise from his seat, a sharp, shrill laugh echoes out of the blasted room.
"I ... I'm alive!! HAHAHA!" A high voice fills the space. The haze and chaos begin to clear, and behind it ... a girl. Liam rubs his eyes in disbelief, just to make sure he isn't dreaming. The girl bounces around the room like a rubber ball, hopping from one corner to the next, inspecting every detail as though she's in a museum. She seems to have a complete tunnel vision, not noticing Liam's presence at all.
After what feels like an eternity, Liam clears his throat—just to draw attention to himself, to confront this stranger ... this stranger in his apartment. But the sound dies in the air. She is completely absorbed in his bookshelf.
He tries again, louder this time, and finally she turns to him. Now that he has her attention, he wastes no time.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in my bedroom?!" Direct, sharp, all questions in a single breath. Well done, Liam thinks, and the faint smugness in his face betrays his self-congratulation.
But the moment doesn't last.
"A ... HUMAN!!! I can't believe it!" She can't even finish her sentence before she bolts toward him.
Without a second thought, the girl is suddenly way too close. Her eyes sparkle with wonder as she tugs at his cheeks, hair, and clothes, completely unbothered by how invasive she's being. "You're real! Actually real! I just can't believe it!"
Liam stands frozen in place. His expression is as bewildered as his thoughts. Finally, he shakes his head, trying to anchor himself back into reality. "Are you insane?!" he blurts, gently but firmly pushing her arm away.
"Ahhh, sorry, sorry! You wouldn't believe what I went through to get here!" She lets go, slightly embarrassed, though her excitement still vibrates through the air.
With a controlled sigh, Liam forces himself back into composure. "Okay ... once more. Who are you? Why are you here? Please, give me something to work with."
Hands clasped behind her back, she gazes up at him with wide eyes. "Well ... maybe you'd like to sit down first."
Skeptical, Liam takes her advice and sits on the edge of his bed. Only now, with a touch of quiet creeping into the chaos, does he really look at her. She seems as though she's stumbled straight out of another world. Her dark curls cascade wildly over her shoulders, her complexion glows warmly in contrast to his. The clothes she wears look foreign, almost out of place in this time. Everything about her screams adventure, movement ... and yet here she stands in his room, as though she's always belonged here. Somehow, she feels familiar, and yet he has never seen her before.
"So ... my name is Tia. I come from the Kingdom of Aurenya. For over ten years, a plague has haunted our land. I can't truly describe it, because we don't even know what it is. But it devours our world. Our families and friends fall sick ... and drift into a deep, endless sleep ..." She pauses, collecting herself. Liam's brow furrows, his expression tightening with disbelief.
"Wait, wait, wait ... the Kingdom of Aurenya?! Tia?!" After a short beat of thought, Liam springs up. "I know that ... I know it!" He rushes to his bookshelf, scans the rows, and finally finds the book lying on the floor. "This is it!! The Tales of Aurenya!"
Tia tilts her head at him, blinking, her look hovering somewhere between confusion and: Hello? I wasn't finished talking!
"My dad used to read me this book ... it was my favorite story." A flicker of doubt runs over Liam's face. Is she messing with me? How could this even be possible? And yet ... she appeared out of nowhere, in his bedroom ... As his thoughts race in circles, Tia now lets her eyes wander over him. Messy dark hair that hasn't seen a brush in days. Faint shadows under his eyes from too little sleep. Skin pale, as though the sun hasn't touched him in forever. His clothes hang loosely, wrinkled, carelessly thrown together. Nothing fits, and yet he wears it as if it doesn't matter in the slightest.
"So ..." Tia breaks the heavy silence, "let me continue. We couldn't do anything against this plague. The entire kingdom lost hope. But there was this legend ... this story about the human world. Many dismissed it as a fairy tale, but my father ... he saw it as our only chance."
Liam's attention is locked on her. It all sounds insane—impossible—but ... but part of him wants to believe. Maybe because it's a way out. A way to leave behind his dreary routine. Desperately, he clings to the thought that this could all be real. If only ... for his own sake.
"He set out to find this human world. And ... he never came back. That's why I'm here. I spent years trying to trace his steps ... searching for any clue. I traveled for weeks—it was so exhausting. But then I found his backpack! And before I knew it ... I was here ..." Nervously, she rocks back and forth, as though only now realizing what she's been through, and what might come next.
"Tia ... I'm sorry. May I ask ... your father's name?"
"... Wesley."
That short answer is enough. "Tia ... I'm pretty sure ... how do I even say this?" Uneasy, Liam flips through the book. "You ... your father, your kingdom ... you're all in here. This is a fairy tale. A really old one. It's about your everyday life and the struggles you overcome ..." Cautiously, he holds the book out to her.
"A ... fairy tale?" Without hesitation, Tia snatches the book from his hands and flips through it. Her eyes grow wide, her mind spinning like a carousel—plain to see. "Does that mean ... our world isn't ... real? Did Papa know? I ... what does this even mean ...?"
