Otherworld Chronicles

Ryan's life has not been miserable at all. His father was a politician, so they didn’t have any of the typical problems most people faced.

That was until Ryan’s parents either died or went missing mysteriously in a plane accident.

It was so strange that even the plane itself hadn’t been found, just like the MH370 case.

After the death of his parents, Ryan was left alone because he was their only child. Thankfully, his uncle on his mother’s side adopted him into his family, which consisted of his wife and two daughters.

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Three months after Ryan came into the household, it wasn’t as bad as he had thought. His new family treated him well, except for how his uncle, now his new father, always badmouthed his real father.

Maybe it was because his uncle believed the plane accident was actually a planned murder by the rival party of Ryan’s father.

His uncle thought that Ryan’s mother, his sister, had died due to Ryan’s father being a politician.

Honestly, Ryan couldn’t refute that, as politics were always nasty. But going so far as to take out an entire passenger plane? He wasn’t so sure about that.

Everything was going well for Ryan now, his aunt and cousins were good people, so he wasn’t going through any major problems.

Ryan’s real parents’ assets were enough to feed an entire family for a lifetime. Everything was in his name, so he wasn’t worried about his new family pretending to be kind to get hold of his assets.

However, the good times came to an end once again. Just after a year of being part of this family, Ryan’s uncle coincidentally died in a plane crash, too.

Although, this time the plane clearly crashed into a building instead of disappearing from existence...

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Three months later*

Ryan was sleeping on the bed, his expression distorted as if he was having a strange dream.

"A true politician is the one who does good for society and makes his position as solid as possible. Short-term greed will always lead one to downfall," his father’s voice echoed in his mind.

"Act righteously until they are completely dependent on us and never able to escape our clutch."

"It benefits both society and ourselves. Better than those politicians who only know how to lie and lose their position in the next election."

But to prove him wrong, another voice interrupted those thoughts.

"Ryan, stop trying to follow your father’s mindset."

"Politics itself is the wrong career to pursue. Your father’s ideas got him what? Death! To become a politician, you have to embrace evil and gain as much power as possible to survive in that world."

The harsh words echoed in Ryan’s mind as he tossed and turned in bed. It was the same dream he had been having since his uncle passed away three months ago.

His biological father’s words were always sharply cut off by his uncle’s bitter tone. The dream ended as it always did, with his uncle’s angry words dismissing his real father’s ideals.

Ryan rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, the memories of the dream still vivid. "Ughhh, this dream again," he muttered, glancing at the clock—it was already 2 p.m. "Sigh~ I need to stop reading books so late. I promised my aunt I’d help her with the restaurant."

Since his uncle’s death, Ryan’s aunt had been working tirelessly to take care of him and her daughters.

She owned a small restaurant, but without the money to hire staff, she did everything herself. Ryan wanted to help more, but his bad habits—like staying up all night—often left him sleeping in until the afternoon.

He had suggested to her to use the money his parents had left, but she always refused, saying it was for him to use for his career. With how much studying fees cost nowadays, what she said made sense.

Even though Ryan wasn’t her real son, she treated him no differently than her daughters.

It was one of the many reasons Ryan admired her so much. He had expected something different. In most of the books he had read, adopted kids were always treated poorly, but he never felt that way here.

Ryan got up, quickly put on some clothes, and headed downstairs to the restaurant. It wasn’t far, just on the ground floor of their building.

"Good morning, Aunt," Ryan greeted Sarah, his aunt, as he entered the restaurant.

"Good morning, Ryan. Up late again, I see," she said gently, though there was concern in her voice. "I told you, staying up late isn’t good for your health. You need to take better care of yourself."

"Sorry, Aunt. I’ll try to sleep earlier from now on," Ryan said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed his own words.

She smiled and handed him a plate. "Good. Now, can you take this to table three?"

Ryan nodded, taking the plate and heading toward the table. Anything to help her out, even if it was just serving food...

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"Who made this? Come here right now!"

A man with strange tattoos on his body shouted in a displeased tone.

Ryan, standing nearby, went toward him and asked, "What happened, sir?"

Even though he had some doubts about the issue, he didn’t want to create trouble for his aunt.

"Were you the one who made this? Look what I found in it," the tattooed man said, showing a single long strand of hair.

"I’m leaving! I can’t believe I came here to eat something disgusting like this," the tattooed man said as he stood up, trying to leave.

But Ryan didn’t let him go and grabbed his wrist.

"Who are you trying to fool? You ate all the food and now claim it’s disgusting? You think you can get away without paying?"

"That hair doesn’t even belong to my aunt; her hair is dyed purple." Ryan said, knowing this guy's intentions was to get free meal.

"You brat! You dare accuse me of lying? I’ll beat you to a pulp! Remove your hand right now," the guy said, looking around.

Everyone was watching the scene. The tattooed man struggled to free his wrist from Ryan’s grip, looking increasingly embarrassed.

"Pay for the food you ate, or I’ll call the cops. We have a camera here, don’t forget," Ryan threatened, tightening his grip.

Sarah, hearing the commotion, came out of the kitchen. Seeing the situation, she panicked, realizing the potential trouble.

"Ryan! Remove your hand!" Sarah said worriedly, as the tattooed man had gang tattoos, and she didn’t want any trouble with them.

"But, Aunt, he’s trying to leave without paying, and we have proof on camera. You don’t need to worry," Ryan insisted.

Seeing the scene attract too many unwanted eyes, the guy decided to pay to avoid further issues.

"Brat, I’m paying now, but remember, I’ll make sure you pay for this," the man said angrily as he left.

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"Ryan, I told you to stay away from trouble. From those tattoos, he was probably in a gang."

"Don’t do something like that again, okay?" Sarah scolded, her worry clear in her voice.

"Sorry, Aunt. You work so hard to keep this place running, and he was trying to steal. I couldn’t just let him walk away."

She gave him a small, worried smile and placed her hand gently over his. "No need to be sorry. Just promise me you won’t put yourself in danger again, okay?"

Ryan nodded, and they quietly returned to their work.

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Later that night, after a long day of work, Ryan returned to his room, exhausted. After freshening up, he made his way to his mini library, a 2x2 storeroom he had transformed into his personal reading space.

It wasn’t much, but it was his—a small haven where he could lose himself in the pages of his favorite books.

But as he opened the door, something was horribly wrong. Instead of the familiar sight of shelves lined with books, he was met with an unsettling void—a pitch-black wall where his library should’ve been.

The entire room was gone, replaced by eerie blackness, like a portal to nothingness. Where had everything gone? It had all been there just last night, but now? This strange wall...

'Have I finally lost my mind? None of this made any sense.'

Curiosity tugged at him as he reached out, wanting to touch the dark surface. But as his fingers brushed it, there was no sensation, no resistance—nothing.

Instead, a sudden pain shot through his head, and before he could react, his body started to stretch, pulling him in. He was being spaghettified into the black void, or whatever this thing was.