[Eyeden Ylliard Hayle]
The red thread on my pinky, a mark of a strange gift—or perhaps a curse—lets me see connections, destinies. It's a vivid crimson string, intangible, endlessly long.
Everyone has one—these red threads—except for those who have truly found their soulmate.
My own fate is different. It was never meant to be my ex-girlfriend. When that relationship ended, it felt like my world collapsed.
Why can’t we find the ones meant for us sooner, to spare us the heartbreak caused by those who aren’t?
As I walked home, the city roared around me—cars honking, voices blending with the noise of countless establishments that filled the urban sprawl.
I passed through a quieter part of the city, a street rarely busy. The cries of birds—especially crows—echoed clearly in that stillness.
Crossing a bridge, I saw a student. We wore the same school uniform, both from the same university. He stood atop the barrier on the edge of the bridge.
That hopelessness... I recognized it. It was the same feeling that once nearly dragged me to the other side myself.
Five months. It’s been five months, and still my mind and heart are at war. Sleepless nights, loss of appetite, a weakened body, and worst of all—the struggle to smile.
> I’m not letting this person jump. Don’t give up!<
I ran toward him. His knees bent slightly.
"Hey!" I shouted, my voice tearing through the quiet street.
> I can make it.<
He didn’t move. His eyes stayed fixed on the shallow river below. I rushed up and grabbed him, pulling him back to safety, my heart pounding like a war drum.
He turned to me, confused, anger flashing in his expression.
“What the hell?” he snapped. His voice was rough. Same uniform. Bruises marked his face and shoulder. Someone had hurt him—bullies, maybe. But it was his eyes that hit me the hardest. They were drowning in sorrow, like he carried darkness stitched into his soul.
> What kind of suffering have you been through?<
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, trying to calm him. “You’re safe now.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “I’m just watching the river. I wasn’t going to jump.”
“But just now\... You looked like you needed someone to talk to.”
“Yeah, right. You sound like some wannabe savior.”
“I’m no savior,” I said. “Just a guy who’s willing to listen.”
> Maybe I misunderstood. But I’d rather be wrong than too late.<
Then I noticed his pinky.
I froze.
The thread wasn’t red. It was black. A deep, suffocating black that defied explanation. It radiated an aura that felt... repelled by sight, as if it didn’t want to be seen.
Until now, I had only ever seen two types of destiny threads: red, and the rare blue one.
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to break the thick silence.
My eyes started to itch. I fought the urge to rub them.
> Damn it. Why did I look at his thread?<
“Sandugo,” he whispered.
“I’m Jow Ylliard,” I introduced myself, offering my hand. He shook it, his grip firm, his palm warm.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice still faint.
“No problem. If you want to talk, I’m here. I’d like to be your friend.” He didn’t answer, just stood and walked away.
I didn’t know his story. But that black thread... it haunted me.
An idea took root in my mind, impossible to ignore.
> I need to know what that black string means.<
He didn’t say yes to friendship. But he didn’t reject it either.
As he walked away, my vision suddenly blurred. That pain again—sharp, burning.
I couldn’t resist. I had looked too long at his string.
My right eye went blind. Tears streamed from the left. I reached up to wipe them—and saw my fingers stained red.
“The hell, is this blood?” I shouted, my hand shaking.
A chill swept through my body, a jolt surged through my skull.
I bit my lower lip, grounding myself as I staggered to the ground.
My left eye faded into darkness too.
I sat down, breathing through the pain.
This always happens when I overuse this cursed ability. Maybe it’s punishment—for seeing things I shouldn’t. For interfering with fate.
To distract myself, I began to sing—anything to pass the time.
> “I can’t escape anymore,
> you visit me every night.
> Though I see nothing,
> I still feel your touch in the dark.
> I no longer dream,
> I can’t wake up.
> Just turn on the light,
> I’m being haunted by my own feelings,
> my own feelings!
> Won’t you ever leave me?
> Haven’t you hurt me enough?
> Will I never find peace?
> Will I never find peace?”<
The pain dulled, and slowly, my sight returned.
---
The bell rang—morning classes were over. Time for recess.
I hurried to the cafeteria for a snack.
As I walked down the ground hall, I passed the notice board. I stopped, drawn to a particular poster.
*Supernatural Club.*
“There’s a club like this in our university?” I murmured.
*‘Join us. I guarantee we’re legit. Trust me, I can really see how many reincarnations people have and who your past destinies were. – Clay, the president.’*
The handwriting was horrible. Why didn’t they just print it?
> How did this even get approved?<
I slapped my forehead.
“Are they serious?”
> Past destinies... could that be related to my ability to see soulmates?<
For some reason, I felt drawn to it.
> Why post something like that if they’re not serious?
> And I need to know more about that black string.<
I headed to the University Clubs Building, where all organizations had rooms.
I knocked on the door of the Supernatural Club.
Several students looked up as I entered, their faces a mix of curiosity and amusement. A girl with auburn hair stood up.
“I’m Clay, the president,” she introduced herself.
“Jow Ylliard Hayle,” I said, smiling as I shook her hand.
“Welcome. Why do you want to join the Supernatural Club?”
“Because,” I looked them in the eyes, “I can see red strings.”
The room went silent.
“Red strings?” asked another girl, long black hair spilling over her shoulders. Her tone was skeptical.
“Yeah. Tied to people’s pinkies. They represent their destinies.”
“You’re joking, right?” said the only guy in the group, smirking.
“I’m not,” I said firmly. “I can see them. All of you have one.”
They didn’t believe me. They exchanged glances, then laughed.
“Well, that’s wild,” Clay said. “But hey, we’re all about wild theories here, so you’re welcome.”
> You posted about reincarnations and past destinies, and you think I’m unbelievable?<
Clay handed me an application form. I filled it out immediately. She walked me to the faculty office to submit it to their advisor, Ms. Erina.
I didn’t get a chance to ask Clay about her supposed power—something about seeing past lives and old soulmates.
The bell rang, calling us back to class.
To be continued.