Reality of WORLD'S

The scar still burned sometimes.

Not physically. But like a memory beneath skin—alive in the silence between moments.

Rai had stopped bandaging it. The long, jagged line across his hand was a part of him now. But when he looked at it, he didn't see a wound. He saw a threshold. The moment everything had changed.

And he was tired of carrying it like a secret.

The tattoo shop was quiet and warm, tucked between a bookstore and an old bakery. The artist was a woman in her forties with layered silver bracelets and eyes that studied everything but said little.

Rai showed her the design—a partial spiral, not complete but coiled inward like a secret still being told.

The woman looked at it, paused, then said, "Interesting choice. Haven't seen this one in a long time."

Rai blinked. "You've seen it before?"

She didn't answer.

Just smiled faintly and motioned him toward the chair.

Emma sat nearby, watching as Rai pulled up his sleeve.

She saw the old scar first—the faint, childhood one—before her eyes moved to the newer, brutal line left by the lab.

"You're covering both?" she asked softly.

Rai nodded. "Yeah."

"Can I ask why you asked me to come?"

He hesitated, then said, "When I got this scar… the old one… I was alone. Didn't know how it got there. Just remember waking up with it one day."

Emma stayed quiet, waiting.

"This time, I didn't want to be alone."

She blinked, then gave the smallest smile. "Okay. I'm glad I'm here."

The machine buzzed to life. Ink met skin.

As the tattoo formed, Emma leaned forward, studying it.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

Rai didn't look at her—just at the work being done.

"The end is the beginning," he said quietly. "And the beginning is the end."

Emma's breath caught for a moment. "That's... poetic."

"It's a cycle," Rai said. "Like us. Like the spiral. We think we're chasing answers. But maybe we're just chasing who we've always been."

She looked at him a little differently after that.

Not with pity.

With something warmer. Sadder. Deeper.

When it was done, the spiral fragment coiled over his scars like it had always belonged there. The ink was dark and simple—nothing flashy. Just real.

They walked out together into the fading daylight, arms brushing.

"You okay?" Emma asked.

"I'm better than I was yesterday."

"Then I'm okay too."

Back at the dorms, the group had gathered for a light dinner—nothing fancy. Just comfort food and the warmth of familiarity.

Cyrus was the first to notice. "Yo. You get a tattoo?"

Rai pulled back his sleeve. "Yeah."

Owen squinted. "When?"

"Today."

Marin leaned in, analyzing the design. "That symbol… It's familiar."

Iris narrowed her eyes. "It looks like... part of the spiral."

Rai nodded. "That's what it is."

Everyone fell silent for a moment.

Except Ronald.

He looked up from his tea, saw the tattoo, and smirked—just barely.

"Nice ink," he said.

But his voice had an edge. Like he'd seen it before. Like he knew exactly what it meant.

Rai caught the expression, but said nothing.

That night, alone in his room, Rai stared at the tattoo beneath the low light.

He didn't know why the design had called to him so strongly.

But when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the echo of a phrase he hadn't said out loud—not even to Emma:

"He marked himself. So they would know where it began again."

And now, Rai had done the same.