Destined To Die

Do you believe in destiny?

I think I was destined to die.

From a young age, I was born with a frail body. While other kids ran outside, laughing and chasing each other under the sun, I sat in a hospital bed—breathing in the sterile scent of medicine as I watched the world pass me by through a cold glass window.

Now, in my final year of high school, I didn’t realize that my fated day would come so soon.

My name is Kurayami Hikaru. Seventeen years old. My life has been nothing but a worried mother and a body born to break.

Death didn’t arrive with a scythe. It came with a voice.

A voice I’ve been hearing since birth—or maybe sometime after. It whispers things I’ve always believed were lies… but somehow, they always feel too real to ignore.

It speaks again:

〈 Death draws nearer.〉

Whenever I close my eyes, I hear it. A voice identical to mine.

〈 You’re destined to die.〉

Lies. That’s what I told myself. But maybe… if I had listened—just once—I could’ve faced the pain better when it finally came.

The day my life withered away like a dried-up rose started like any other. I had just come home from school.

The sun was hidden behind clouds, its light dimmed into a pale orange—like spilled juice across a pamphlet. I think that’s how it looked.

My mom and I lived in a tiny apartment at the top of a two-story building. To reach it, you had to climb a set of rusted metal stairs that groaned with every step, as if they’d collapse at any moment.

Ours was the first door on the left. Room number 11. The number barely visible on the chipped paint above a door without a lock—a thief’s paradise.

That day, the door was wide open.

That alone should’ve told me: the reaper had arrived.

I stepped inside and shut the squeaking door behind me, nudging a brick in front of it with my foot. That was our "lock."

I tossed my school bag onto the small table to the right. That’s when I noticed—two pairs of shoes. One male. One female.

Was Mom already home? That was rare. She only came home early yesterday… and today.

Then I saw them. Black boots. Cleaner than they should be. Just one spot of mud at the tip.

A guest, I thought.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I slipped off my shoes and placed them neatly beside Mom’s. The lights were off. I don’t know how I could see… but isn’t it said that when you’re about to die, your senses sharpen?

I moved forward through the narrow hallway—well, calling it a hallway would be like calling a worm an ant.

It was odd. Mom hated the dark. She hated the night sky too. That’s why she named me after light.

I walked slowly, the soft rug brushing against my socks until I reached the light switch.

Always hated how it was placed at the end of the hall. A poor design. But what did I know about architecture?

I flicked the switch.

The light buzzed on.

The room was small. A couch. A TV. A table in the middle.

And my mother.

Pinned down.

A masked man on top of her, one hand holding a knife to her throat, the other muffling her screams. Her shirt was pulled up, revealing her black bra.

“Mom!” I shouted.

Was that my mistake? Or was it believing I could save her—believing that my tears would give me strength?

No. My mistake… was thinking the man was alone.

A cold, sharp pain bloomed in my back.

Something had pierced me.

I looked over my shoulder.

Another man.

No mask.

The kind of guy you see lurking around school gates. The type your gut tells you to avoid.

He yanked the knife out, and I collapsed to the floor. The pain… it was like falling down a flight of stairs, but all of it focused into one stabbing point in my body.

My mother screamed and struggled, tears rolling down her face. But she couldn’t escape. A woman’s strength could only do so much.

“You idiot! Why did you kill him?!” the masked man shouted, panicking.

The pervert dropped the bloody knife. It landed with a dull thud on the white carpet—probably staining it forever.

“I-I-I didn’t… m-mean to,” he stammered, breathless. That might’ve been the most thrilling thing he’d ever done in his pathetic life.

“He saw your face! Damn it, I wasn’t—!”

“I’m wearing a mask! Are you blind!?”

The man’s breath quickened. “I-I… didn’t…” were his last words before his legs gave out beneath him.

He dropped to the floor like a broken toy.

“Damn it! That idiot!” the masked man cursed, rushing out of the apartment in a panic.

My mother didn’t hesitate. She ran to me. Held me. Her arms trembling as she cried, yelling my name over and over.

At least I saved her. At least I—

〈 Liar. You would’ve abandoned her if you hadn’t been stabbed.〉

That voice again… always lying.

My eyes were heavy.

I wanted to keep them open—but the darkness felt so warm.

〈 You’re scared. Scared of death. Scared of what comes after.〉

My heart slowed.

My breathing grew heavier.

I guess… this is it.

I guess the voice was right all along.

I was… destined to die…

My heartbeat stopped.

My consciousness faded.

My mother’s voice drifted into the distance like an echo in a dream.

〈 You were destined to die… but also destined to live longer than anyone else.〉

***

In a quiet village, inside a small wooden home, a child was born with two different colored eyes.

“Look, honey! He has both our eye colors!” the woman exclaimed, her red eyes shining with joy.

The man beside her burst into laughter. “He’s already greedy, huh? Taking from both of us!”

Both parents beamed with happiness. The child who was never supposed to be born healthy… was strong.

That was how Kurayami Hikaru, age seventeen, died—

—and was reborn in a fantasy world of… Strigon.

And those who hunt them.

Executioners.