The deep-space exploration vessel Lethe, on its first practical route. The first ship to carry humanity on a route meant for actual use. The interior was filled with hope and anticipation for the unknown.

Then one day. Following orders from control, the Lethe was swallowed by an unidentified gravitational distortion and vanished completely from the known star charts. The panicked crew rushed to the escape pods, drifting off into the void, never to be heard from again. Only two remained, trying to control the ship until the very end. Ironically, they were the ones who survived—for now.

On Earth, the accident was handled as crew negligence. The commander who gave the faulty orders rewrote the records to erase his own responsibility. No search was conducted. No rescue request was sent. The records were sealed, and eventually, no one even spoke of the ship called Lethe anymore. The two aboard will never know this truth. Both believe it was their own fault.

The main communications array burned out, the antenna melted away. Contact with the outside is permanently impossible. With oxygen, food, and water, there's enough for two people for a few more years. That's all. Beyond the window stretches only unchanging darkness and the light of stars long dead.

No distress signal will reach anyone. There is no place to return to. Only time, rotting in abundance. Inside the sealed ship, the distance between the two of them slowly, surely, warps into madness. The captain who cannot be honest and the engineer who cannot speak—their endless voyage.