Prologue: The Third Rain

The late afternoon sky hung heavy with gray clouds, pouring a gentle rain that had fallen nonstop since morning. The city streets gleamed with water, and the sound of raindrops tapping on the asphalt played like a soft, melancholic melody. On the sidewalk, two figures walked without an umbrella, completely drenched.

Hasan, twenty-eight, held the hand of his son, Hasuna, who was still in his school uniform. The two of them were silent. Only the sound of their footsteps and the falling rain accompanied them along the way.

It had been three months since Karin—his wife and the mother of his child—left this world. It happened so suddenly. What began as a simple family outing turned into tragedy. They had boarded a small boat on the lake to enjoy the afternoon—a tourist boat that seemed safe and peaceful. But then the sky abruptly changed. A strong wind struck, and a storm descended mercilessly.

The boat capsized.

Hasan managed to grab Hasuna and swim to shore with the last of his strength. But Karin... she never resurfaced. Her body was found two days later, washed up on the lakeside.

Since that day, every drop of rain reminded Hasan of that moment—of Karin’s voice disappearing, of the embrace he never got to save.

“I used to love the rain,” Hasan said suddenly, his voice heavy and flat.

Hasuna turned to look at him.

“When we were dating, your mother loved walking in the rain with me,” he continued. “She used to say, ‘Rain hides our tears.’” A faint smile hung on his lips, though it never fully bloomed.

He looked up at the sky, letting the rain fall freely on his face.

“I... I just want to see her again. Not as a memory. Really see her. Just once. Maybe... to say sorry, or thank you. Or just to know she's okay—wherever she is now.”

A silence settled between them, soft and aching.

Then Hasuna’s small voice broke through the quiet.

“Dad…” he said gently. “My friend told me... about a rumor.”

“A rumor?” Hasan glanced down at him.

“Yeah... they say, if you truly wish to meet someone with all your heart during the third rain of the rainy season... you'll be able to see them again.”

Hasan fell silent. He wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. Not because it was silly—but because even a tiny sliver of hope felt too painful now.

“This is the third day, Dad,” Hasuna added with certainty. “It’s been raining for three days straight. Maybe... maybe we can see Mom again. If we truly, truly want it.”

Hasan stared at his son. Rain dripped from Hasuna’s hair, trailing down his small face, which seemed far older than his age.

Rumor. Hope. A miracle.

It all sounded foolish to an adult. But somehow, in a moment like this, in the middle of the suffocating emptiness, Hasan felt something he hadn’t in a long time—a flicker of belief.

“Alright...” he murmured.

He stopped walking. Gazed at the gray sky, and slowly closed his eyes.

“Oh God... I want to see Karin again. Just once. Just once…”

And at that moment—the sky shone.

A blinding light burst forth from above, like lightning without thunder. The air changed. The wind stopped. The sound of rain vanished.

Hasan shielded Hasuna, clutching the boy tightly. His body tensed as the ground beneath them shifted. A strange sensation enveloped him—as if they were being pulled, lifted, and dropped into silence.

When he opened his eyes, the world had changed.

The sky was now a brilliant blue, completely cloudless. All around them stretched lush green grass, and a stone path curved gently toward a small village filled with thatched-roof houses. The scent of earth and blooming flowers floated on the breeze, mixed with the calls of birds Hasan had never heard before.

Hasuna clutched his father’s arm tightly.

“Dad... where are we?”

Hasan didn’t answer. His eyes widened as he looked ahead.

There—stood a woman.

Her long hair was damp with morning dew. Her face looked exactly like Karin’s. The same eyes, the same shape, even the same glimmer in her expression. But her clothes were different. She wore a light mantle, leather guards on her arms and shoulders, high boots, and a belt that looked like it carried weapons.

“K-Karin...?” Hasan whispered. Without thinking, he stepped forward and embraced the woman tightly.

“Karin... I... I’ve missed you so much...” he sobbed, refusing to let her go.

But only seconds passed before the woman stiffened in his arms.

“Hey! What—?! Let go of me!” she cried out in alarm. She shoved Hasan back. “Who are you?! Why are you hugging me?!”

Hasan froze. His chest tightened.

Meanwhile, Hasuna began to weep, watching his father embrace a stranger who looked just like his mother—but wasn’t.

The woman stepped back, eyes still wary. “You're not from this village. Even your clothes are... strange. Where did you come from?”

Hasan looked around—cobblestone streets, green hills, swords on people’s backs, and houses made of wood and stone. The sky was bluer than he’d ever seen. The air smelled of wild leaves and damp earth—fresh, but foreign. As if they had stepped into the pages of a fairy tale.

Not Salatiga. Not the Earth he knew.

And that woman—though her face hadn’t changed a bit from his memories of Karin—was not his wife. Or... could she be Karin from somewhere else?

Another world?

Hasuna then ran up and tightly gripped his father’s arm.

“Dad... if that’s Mom... why doesn’t she remember us?”