Antifragile

The days blurred together, a haze of nothingness that filled the spaces between breaths. Sakura had long ago lost the sense of time. Her heart had become numb to the passage of hours, and her mind to the rhythm of the passing days. The stone walls of her cell had become familiar—too familiar. The coldness, the dampness, the stillness—they had all become an inseparable part of her existence, as if she were part of the walls themselves.

The small window, once a source of longing, was now just another fixture of her cage. The outside world felt distant, like a dream that couldn’t be grasped. The sight of the moon, high in the sky, only served to remind her of what she could never have—freedom, life, the warmth of another human being beside her. It was all a cruel illusion, a world she no longer belonged to.

Hyewon had come and gone as usual, leaving behind the necessary provisions. She was quiet, like the rest of them—like the world, like the universe itself. Sakura would never speak her thoughts aloud. It wasn’t as though Hyewon could offer anything. She was simply there, a presence that served to underline the isolation that had become her reality.

But despite Hyewon’s stoic nature, there was something about her—something in the way she moved or in her fleeting glances—that hinted at an understanding, an unspoken sympathy. Yet even that could not reach Sakura. The distance between them, like the distance between her and the rest of the world, was too great.

Sakura’s thoughts were consumed by the faces of the ones she had lost—Chaewon, Kazuha, Yena, Yuri, Eunchae… every one of them had been torn away from her. Every night, she relived their deaths, replaying their last moments in her mind. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. They were gone, and she was left to carry the weight of their memories. A weight that was becoming unbearable.

But there was a strange kind of numbness that had begun to settle over her heart. Not the kind of peace that one might wish for, but a deep, hollow absence—a feeling of having been emptied out, hollowed. She could not feel the same way she once did. She no longer felt the same kind of anger, or grief, or love. The emotions were there, but they were distant, muted.

Her body, still young and aching with the past, was slowly giving up. Each movement, each breath, felt like an effort. The room was cold, and her heart felt colder still. She had long ago stopped trying to escape. She had long ago accepted that there was no way out. This was her fate now, her life. But what life was it, really?

Sometimes, she would stand by the window and watch the horizon, her gaze fixed on the darkened landscape. The silence of the world outside was like a heavy fog pressing down on her, as if even nature itself was suffocating. And then she would wonder if the world had forgotten her, or if she had simply forgotten the world.

When she closed her eyes, she saw Chaewon’s face. She heard her voice, soft but firm, telling her to hold on, to keep fighting. She remembered the way Chaewon had always believed in them, in her. She remembered their whispered conversations late into the night, when they had dared to dream of a life beyond the war, beyond the bloodshed. It had all seemed so possible back then.

But now, that future was as distant as the stars. She had no future. No hope. No reason to keep breathing.

The thought of them all—her friends, her comrades, the ones who had fought so bravely by her side—had become a constant ache in her chest. Each memory, each image, was a wound she couldn’t stop reopening. How could she carry on when the ones she had loved were gone, when all that was left of them were these fractured fragments in her mind?

Sakura sank to her knees by the bed, her face buried in her hands. She was so tired—so very tired. Not of life, perhaps, but of this… this existence. This endless ache that had no end in sight. She had tried to hold on, to remember what it meant to be alive, but each day it felt like the grip was slipping from her fingers.

And then, in the dead of night, as the wind howled softly outside the walls of her prison, Sakura found herself standing at the window once more, staring out into the darkness. Her chest was tight, her breath shallow, and her heart beat too loudly in her ears.

She had never been truly free, not even when she had been a princess in Japan. Perhaps she had only ever been free in her dreams, in the moments where she could imagine a life without chains. But now, she knew there was no escape. No way to run. No way to fight. The walls were too high, the bars too thick. And all that was left for her was this prison, this silence, this emptiness.

Her fingers, trembling ever so slightly, reached out to touch the cold stone window ledge. The moonlight bathed her in its eerie glow, casting long shadows across the room. Her reflection, distorted and pale, stared back at her.

Sakura’s eyes drifted to the empty bed behind her. She hadn’t slept well in weeks, if at all. The restless thoughts, the memories of those who had died, had kept her awake for nights on end.

But now, as she stood in the moonlight, a thought crossed her mind—a thought that had been haunting her for days now, quietly gnawing at her, pressing on her soul.

What if it could end?

She wasn’t sure what the thought meant—whether it was a question or a decision. She didn’t know. But she stood there for what felt like hours, looking at her reflection in the glass, watching the shadows play across her face. And for the first time in a long time, the idea of an end didn’t seem terrifying. It felt… right.

Perhaps it wasn’t a choice at all. Perhaps, in the silence of the night, the end had already come for her.

Sakura turned away from the window, her eyes lingering on the bed. Her body ached with exhaustion, her heart heavy with all the things she could never say. The tears came then, quiet and slow. She had no words left—no pleas, no screams, no promises. There was nothing.

She closed her eyes, letting the darkness consume her once more.

When Hyewon came in the following morning, she found the room empty.

The moonlight shone brightly in through the window, casting an ethereal glow over the stone walls. Everything was still. And for the first time in what felt like forever, there was peace.

The world outside continued on, oblivious to the fate of the princess locked away in her prison. The war raged, empires rose and fell, but inside her small cell, time seemed to stand still.

And so, Sakura became a shadow—one more lost soul in a world that had no place for her. Yet in the silence, she was free.