Chapter 0

Krystian Vector spent his days in a small, muted room, immersed in a maze of comics, manga, and fantasy novels. Every corner of the room was adorned with posters of his favorite characters, and the shelves were bending under the weight of volumes full of adventures and magic. It was his sanctuary, his refuge, an escape from the reality that always seemed like a wave of light devoid of meaning and yet full of shadows.

His life in a small Polish village in the province of Łódź was filled with routine and boredom. Daily rituals brought him no satisfaction or joy, and he sank deeper and deeper into worlds of imagination that offered him an escape from the gloomy reality. He was secretive, introverted, immersed in a world of fantasy, yet engulfed in anger and disappointment that lurked beneath the surface of his calm facade.

Dreams of moving to a fantasy world or a comic book metropolis were like lights at the end of the tunnel for him, a promise of a better life where he could be someone more than just a gray shadow against the monotony of rural life. But even in those dreams lay a sad irony - in reality, he had no goals or plans, not knowing what he wanted to achieve in life, except to escape from it.

At school, he was a victim of ridicule and mockery, and every day spent within the walls of education seemed like hell on earth for him. This period of life was etched into his memory as the worst, poisoning his attitude toward the surrounding world. After finishing school, things didn't get better - Krystian experienced betrayals from friends, rejections from women, and disappointments that gradually poisoned his soul, deepening his distrust of people and his worldview.

And the home he lived in was just a reflection of his internal chaos - the family he should have loved and respected treated him like a stranger, ignoring his opinions and feelings, plunging him into a sense of loneliness and rejection. Krystian sometimes thought that only the shared blood forced the family to coexist with him.

Among all the difficulties and disappointments, Krystian Vector found shelter in his world of imagination, but even there he could not escape the sad truth about his life. He was a loner in the crowd, an observer who never felt truly understood or accepted. Immersed in the gray everyday life, until one day was supposed to change everything.

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The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft rays into Krystian's room as he reluctantly rose from bed. Another day began, but the weight of routine and monotony hung in the air, reminding him of the gray everyday life awaiting him beyond the door.

He opened his eyes to the familiar sights of his room, where every nook was filled with comic book and manga characters, and shelves sagged under the weight of volumes full of adventures and magic. Posters adorned the walls, creating a colorful mosaic of dreams and imaginations. It was his kingdom, his escape from the gray reality he couldn't comprehend.

He got out of bed, feeling the weight of reluctance that accompanied him every morning. The annoying sound of the alarm clock broke the silence, reminding him of the necessity to leave this sanctuary of imagination. The previous day had ended too quickly, leaving him with a sense of dissatisfaction and despair that lingered with every new morning.

As he passed through his room, Krystian dreamed that he could stay here forever, surrounded by his favorite characters and worlds, where anything was possible. But reality awaited him beyond the door, ready to erase these fantasies and force him to confront the colorless life he led every day.

Before heading to the dining room, where the beginning of another day of routine and monotony awaited him, he decided to make a quick visit to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of a young twenty-three-year-old man who was still trapped in his dreams but also submerged in the boundless emptiness of everyday life. And the face he saw in the reflection triggered another wave of bad mood, fueled by the awareness of his unattractive appearance, which contributed to a significant portion of unhappiness in his life.

As Krystian stepped out of the bathroom, he sensed from afar that the atmosphere in the central part of the house was tense, filled with unspecified frustrations, and unresolved conflicts hung in the air. His mother, standing within sight, near the sink under which Krystian noticed the kitchen trash can pulled out and filled with garbage, along with her thunderous look directed at him, confirmed his belief that he couldn't hope for a peaceful morning.

"Krystian, did you forget to take out the trash again?" His mother's voice sliced through the air, laden with disappointment and irritation.

Krystian's heart sank as he felt the weight of her words. Guilt and frustration intertwined within him, forming a knot in his stomach. "I... I'm sorry, I forgot," he mumbled, unable to meet her gaze.

His mother sighed heavily, her patience wearing thin. "This is the third time this month, Krystian. I've had enough of this irresponsibility. You're an adult for heaven's sake."

The tension in the room mounted as Krystian's own frustrations bubbled to the surface. "I said I'm sorry, okay? It's not like I do it on purpose," he retorted, his tone tinged with defensiveness.

But his mother's patience had worn thin, and her voice rose in exasperation. "That's not the point, Krystian. You need to start taking responsibility for your actions."

Emotions surged within Krystian as the argument escalated. He felt a mixture of anger, resentment, and a deep-seated sense of inadequacy gnawing at him. Each word exchanged between them felt like another blow to his already fragile sense of self-worth. The tension hung heavy in the air, suffocating and leaving things unresolved.

As a conclusion to the situation, Krystian's frustrated image squeezing the bag filled with trash, as he prepared to head to work, stood as a stark reminder of the tumultuous scene he had experienced this morning. After squeezing the bag, he left the household, throwing the trash bag into a nearby bin, leaving behind the turbulent scene he had to endure, and headed off to work.

The bus ride to work, filled with gloomy people, did not bring him the expected relief, despite his attempts to break away from the world by listening to music. Despite his efforts, the constant conversations of his fellow passengers, mostly trivial but deafeningly loud, deprived him of any respite. Krystian felt increasingly frustrated and isolated, struggling for a moment of peace amid the cacophony of voices.

What followed was eight long hours of monotonous repetition of tasks at the monitor company where he worked. The assembly line hummed with mechanical precision, each movement synchronized with the next in a symphony of monotony.

With each passing hour, the hum of the machines became more in the background, a constant companion in his dull existence. The minutes passed, marked only by the ticking of the clock on the wall; every second was an eternity in a never-ending cycle of production.

Krystian, lost in his thoughts, barely noticed the tense atmosphere around him. Only when a shrill voice broke the silence of the machines did he come back to reality. The manager's gaze fell on a woman at the next workstation who was struggling with the relentless pace of the production line.

He heard a heated exchange of words between the manager and the employee, the tension was palpable. The manager's demands for faster work clashed with the woman's desperate attempts to keep up with the relentless pace of the assembly line, underscoring the cruel reality of the relentless pursuit of productivity.

Krystian couldn't help but feel compassion for the woman, knowing all too well the pressures of unrealistic expectations in the relentless pace of the factory. However, he remained a silent witness to the injustice imposed by the ruthless industry circle. In his mind, Krystian performed acts of brutal justice on the persistent Manager. Which seemed to be a momentary respite and a dulling of his hopeless well-being.

Finally, the whistle announced the end of the working day, and Krystian, after riding the noisy bus again, went home. However, before reaching the house, Krystian stopped for a short stop at a local store to buy his favorite stimulants, i.e. cigarettes and energy drinks, as well as some sweets to make reading his favorite novels more enjoyable.

Dinner was a quiet celebration, punctuated by the tense silence of a tense family situation. Conversations faded, words remained unspoken, the rift between family members widened with each passing day. Krystian's presence at the table was only a formality, his thoughts were already returning to the peace of his room. And after eating, not wanting to get involved in another annoying conversation with members of his own family, Krystian returned to his safe sanctuary.

After several hours of reading, Krystian found himself in the whirlwind of the plot, lost in the magical world created by the author's words. With each page his imagination unfolded and his emotions floated like waves on a calm sea. The momentary joy of reading a novel made him forget about the monotony of his life and all his worries. In that moment, in the warmth of his room, he experienced a fleeting peace.

As he lay on his bed, staring at the flickering screen of his phone that served as his window to the magical world of literature, his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. Rocking on the verge of sleep, he felt sleep begin to overtake him. The last sentence he read echoed in his mind, and the world described in the book began to mix with reality. Finally, immersed in his dreams, he fell asleep, leaving the world of his problems behind, hoping that at least for a moment he would escape from the monotonous nightmare that was his life.

Krystian slowly opened his eyes, feeling the gentle wind on his skin. However, instead of the ceiling of his room, he saw a starry sky filled with shining stars. The first feeling that came over him was one of disorientation. He thought it was just a dream, but every detail was too real to ignore.

He slowly got up from the ground, his buttocks still wet with dew. A deep breath greeted him with the smell of damp earth and pine needles, and in the distance he could hear the rustling of trees and the sounds of night nature. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the forest, for reasons he didn't understand, it seemed like he could see like daylight, or even better. This extraordinary ability, the ability to see details in the dark forest surrounding him, caused him extreme confusion. He felt as if he were in some surreal world, where the rules of nature and the senses were being redefined.

He began to see the majestic trees, raised in the black underwear of the night. The scattered rays of the moon slightly illuminated the path he was on, creating a surreal play of light and shadow.

Emotions filled his heart with a mixture of fear and fascination. He was alone in an unknown forest, but at the same time he felt an irresistible curiosity and admiration for this wild, untamed land. He opened his mouth to quell the fear, but the silence of the forest, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the sounds of night birds, greeted him like an old, wise friend, ready to guide him through the mysteries of the night's journey.

As he stared into the darkness of the surrounding forest, he began to have thoughts and questions that he couldn't find answers to. Was it a dream? Or maybe an illusion? Maybe he was still in his room, lost in some deep, incomprehensible illusion? But even his attempts to convince himself that it was only a temporary state could not hide the fact that he was feeling this reality, not just observing it.

This new reality, where night became day and the forest came alive with its secrets, made Krystian feel lost and helpless. He was alone in this unknown world, devoid of certainty and understanding. An internal storm of emotions, impressions and uncertainty tormented his mind, giving him no peace or a moment's respite.

And when he started to calm down after a short bout of intense emotions, he was going to stroke his forehead to shake off the rush of emotions. He suddenly froze, staring at his hand with an expression of shock and horror. And a voice full of disbelief came from his mouth.

"It's not my hand."