Despite telling the girls to rest well, I’d made a conscious effort to stay awake. When I wasn’t pacing down the hall, I frequented the conveniently stocked coffee bar, waiting for the train to finally stop. I knew that if I slept, I would be met with even worse dreams than before.


    As I lean against the cold white wall, beginning to lose the battle to stay awake, the train comes to a stop. The girls come into the hallway, careful to avoid my weary gaze. Mary wears a scowl on her face as she takes care in disposing of the coffee I’d prepared, and brews a fresh pot. The two drink their small cups together, Mirei periodically checking the abstract murals on the wall to evade the tension.


    They hurriedly finish their cups, and finally look at me- their disdain having only matured with the night’s sleep.


    “Well, are we ready to disembark?” I ask, cracking a bold smile.


    “Yeah, let’s get going,” Mary replies, turning away from me with a click of her tongue. “I don’t want to be trapped in this depressing place with you a minute longer.”


    “Mary, you said you’d try to hear him out,” Mirei whispers too loud, prompting Mary to pinch her lips shut as she walks her toward the door.


    “Like I said, I’m only interested in his information,” she says in a flustered voice, winging the door open. “Come on, let’s start this last world, already.”


    The door opens to reveal the same bright white light, nearly blinding all three of us as we shield our eyes. Mary leads Mirei by the hand into the doorway, where the fragile girl’s small frame is enveloped by the light- leaving only Mary.


    “Well?” Mary continues, turning her fierce gaze in my direction as the light outlines her striking figure, her lustrous long black hair shuddering over her eyes with the incoming wind. “Are you coming?”


    Taking a deep breath, I step toward the light. “Yes, I am. After all, I’ve lived my life for this opportunity.” Despite her frown, she offers me a short nod before stepping into the light. I follow without hesitation, stepping off the platform and gazing into the bright new world- no longer shielding my eyes from its light.


    The world forms around me in an instant. The same bustling Shibuya Station leaves nothing to be imagined; if anything, it feels more real than the previous worlds- which I feel was inevitable.


    Like before, I lead the way outside, where the clamoring Shibuya Crossing further attunes my senses to the world. For some reason, this time, the NPC’s carelessly passing us by don’t give me pause.


    “What is it?” Mirei asks, eyeing me suspiciously along with Mary.


    “It’s strange,” I mutter as I look for signs of a threat. “Perhaps something has already caused this world to tune itself to me… but I don’t sense any hostility.”


    “You mean the world has already begun to shift?” Mary inquires with a furrowed brow.


    “That might be,” I reply, “but it might be something else. Something more intrinsic to the dream space.”


    “Huh,” she replies, sounding annoyed.


    “Ah, there’s our ride,” I say, ignoring her in favor of the blue sports car that’s parked itself in the street in front of us.


    “Wait, shouldn’t we still be careful of them?” Mirei asks in a panic as she follows me and Mary to the car.


    “Hey there, Caesar!” a voice rings from the driver’s side window as its door opens, revealing a bearded man with spectacles that oddly suit his precocious grin. I glance back to Mirei as I open the front passenger door, and shoot her a wink. “This one’s a friend of mine, so there’s nothing to worry about.”


    Mirei exchanges a hesitant look with Mary as the two take their places in the back seats. I shut my door as I sit down and thump the driver’s shoulder. “Good to see you, Mathias! But, haven’t I told you not to call me Caesar? It’s J – C. Just JC, got it?”


    “Then, Jesus? Welcome back!”


    “Mathias, would you stop dooming me to be betrayed? Let me be JC, I’m begging you…”


    As the two of us laugh at each other, I sense a disgusted look coming from the back seat. Upon checking, I confirm two disgusted looks.


    “Ah, girls, this is Mathias Frankfurt, he’s a friend from work,” I say with a forced smile. Their narrowed gazes convey both confusion and suspicion.


    “Yeah, greetings and all, but how is this possible?” Mary finally says, not trying to hide her annoyance.


    “Well, my father was in my world, but…” Mirei mutters, holding her chin in thought.


    “But Aku was inhabiting him,” I respond, before gesturing for Mathias to drive with a nod. “Regardless of Aku, your father existed in your world as an NPC. You were able to see him because it was your world, tuned to you. That’s why you didn’t see him in Mary’s world, even if his henchmen were there.”


    As the car accelerates with a rumble from its boxer engine, Mirei’s expression begins to sink. “So that means… that really was his body, rather than a puppet created by Aku…”


    “Of course, but it was an NPC nonetheless,” I remark, turning my brow at her inquisitively.


    “You idiot, have some tact…” Mary growls in a chiding tone. “You just told her she killed her own…” Stopping herself, she places a hand on Mirei’s thin knee.


    “It’s okay, really,” Mirei says, shaking her head while suppressing a sniffle. “But then… what about Mary? I don’t think she saw any…ah-”


    Cutting herself off, Mirei looks down in a panic. Mary slowly withdraws her hand from the petite girl’s leg and uses it to graze her full bangs, casting a shadow over her eyes.


    “I didn’t mean…” Mirei mutters, flustered.


    “It’s okay… really,” Mary answers gently, yet something heavy hangs over her words. “It’s true that I have no one. My parents left my memory somewhere along the way… they say trauma does that. It’s nothing you need to apologize for, though, so don’t.”


    “O-okay,” Mirei stammers, on the verge of tears.


    “Anyway, you said he’s a work friend- is that the best you can do?” Mary asks me, her expression reverting back to a scowl. However, I remain silent, stuck on her previous expression which lacked any sign of the compassion she held at the start of the last round or the fierceness she’d exuded since. It was nothing like her usual annoyed look, or even the distressed look I got to see in her world. It was, in fact, the most vulnerable I’d ever seen her.


    “Hey, you listening?” she barks, her brows pinning up with even more annoyance.


    “Yes… right,” I reply hurriedly. “I’m not exactly close to anyone. I have friends and estranged family, but that doesn’t mean we’ll meet any condition necessary to see them. Mathias is here because of the nature of our job. He is just an NPC, though he is still a replica of himself, and therefore has knowledge of this… experiment.”


    “Experiment?” Mirei mumbles, blinking at me in confusion.


    “You’ll understand soon,” I respond, sighing lightly as I turn my back to the girls.


    “But don’t you think you’ve been rude to Mathias?” Mirei says in a faltering voice. “He’s your friend, and you’ve said he’s just an NPC, right in front of him…”


    “Oh, he doesn’t mind,” I remark, smirking at the content-looking driver. “Since he knows about everything, he understands he’s just an NPC with no real ability to affect the world.”


    “What a cruel thing to say, Caesar!” Mathias whines in a high-pitched voice. “After I came all the way from the lab to pick you up… for someone who looks like such a gentleman, you sure don’t have any delicacy, do you?”


    “Shut it, that kind of attitude doesn’t suit your boorish face,” I quip, waving him off before looking back to the girls. “See?”


    “But still, how do we know he isn’t Aku?” Mary asks with a straight face, ignoring our skit.


    “Oh, well that’s simple,” I reply, “Aku isn’t going to want to be around me, probably as long as this whole thing is underway. That is consistent with the game he’s played up till now, is it not?”


    “It’s true that you haven’t been in the same place at the same time… like he’s avoided you,” Mirei responds.


    “What about in your world, at the stadium?” Mary asks, frowning at Mirei. “He was down in the field, but Aku still appeared right in front of him.”


    “Oh, that,” I say, holding my index finger up. “I didn’t see him at all, since someone kicked me unconscious. I just assumed that’s what happened.”


    “So, he’s never appeared to you,” Mary mutters, as if deep in thought.


    “Yes, I’m sure we aren’t on the same wavelength at all,” I reply in a plain voice. “Oh look, it’s the colorful grass- that means we’re close!”


    They remain silent, so I assume they are enjoying the vivid, otherworldly scenery. I, however, look upon it with reservation. I think of how strongly I wish to dye the colorful foliage in green- to bring the world back to normalcy. “It’s too bright for me…” I mutter under my breath, averting my gaze.


    Mathias drives diligently down the long road until we arrive at the lab, and an unassuming nameplate over its entrance comes into view: “Worldbeaters Inc.”


    “Worldbeaters?” Mary mutters curiously as the car comes to a stop. “I don’t remember seeing that before…”


    “The world is tuning itself to me,” I respond, stepping outside. “That’s one reason it was crucial for me to go last.”


    I urge the girls to follow as Mathias and I enter the building’s atrium, which had been devoid of any human presence in the previous rounds. Now, however, there’s a crowd of people going about their daily routine. As we approach the elevator, several people greet Mathias and I. Our response is polite yet curt as we hurry into the elevator.


    “This is what you mean by… tuning?” Mirei asks, looking at me expectantly.


    “Right,” I respond with a nod. “For me, it’s only natural for this place to be full of people, even in the middle of an experiment. Would you agree, Mathias?”


    “Oh, certainly,” Mathias responds with a hearty smile. “It is not uncommon for you to visit during your projects. Though, between here and the real world, it must be exhausting.”


    “Huh?” Mary blurts out, aiming her suspicion at Mathias and myself. “What does he mean by that?”


    “I’ll show you in a moment,” I say in a low voice, closing my eyes as I wait for the elevator to reach its destination. Finally, the chime signals our departure. We walk briskly through the hallway, and into the same theatre room as before.


    This time, however, there are three seats sitting parallel to each other in front of the screen. In addition, Mathias withdraws three pairs of glasses, and distributes them to each of us before taking his place at the podium.


    “So, it’s the same setup as before, then?” Mary asks, still on her guard.


    “More or less,” I respond, taking my spot in the middle seat and pressing the glasses firm to my face. “This time might be different, though. At least, the experience probably won’t be as severe for you as before.”


    “It… won’t?” Mirei inquires, sitting down on my right with a hesitant look on her face.


    “You two have already defeated your dreams, haven’t you?” I remark, shifting my gaze between them. “That’s another reason it was crucial for me to go last. I couldn’t stand a chance against the extremity of your unresolved dreams.”


    “Then, your dreams are unresolved?” Mary asks, finally sitting down despite her reluctance.


    I chuckle lightly at her while shrugging my shoulders. “Well, who knows?”


    “I should say this,” Mathias pipes up from the other side of the room. “They might undergo some trauma as well. If it is your intention to show them the truth via your own dreams and memories, it is likely that they will see some of their own dreams and memories, as well. As, well, a supplement- or corroboration, to the truth you’re showing them. It could actually be very intense.”If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    “Well…” I mutter, glancing as Mirei’s pale face. “Are you going to be okay with that?”


    Her face remains flush as she manages to open her mouth slowly. “I-”


    “We’ll be fine,” Mary cuts in, glaring at me fiercely. “We’ve overcome our dreams… you should spend that concern on yourself.”


    “R-right,” Mirei responds, forming a weak smile.


    With a sigh, I tilt my gaze toward Mathias. “Right- let’s get started.”


    “Powering on now,” Mathias responds. “Be aware that it might not have quite the same feeling as before. After all, this machine actually exists in the real world. Now that we’re tuned much closer to the real world thanks to JC, the machine will operate more like a theater. You may be able to move or look away, but you mustn’t… not even for a split second.”


    The choppy sounds of the machine begin drowning out Mathias’ words, and the room’s lights go dim. Without needing to be told, I fix my eyes on the screen through the lenses of the spectacles.


    Like a camera’s shutter clicking over and over, the screen flashes from black to white. With it comes a loud clacking akin to railroad tracks being struck rhythmically by an accelerating steam train. I get the feeling in my stomach’s pit that we’re in a train, racing full speed ahead- a feeling I never experienced on the white dream train. This feels like the real thing.


    As the imaginary train reaches its peak speed, the deafening sound of clashing iron fills the room, and the lights flicker before cutting out completely. For a moment, the screen remains black, before color mixes into the darkness.


    The sound of a camera shutter’s click accelerates, as if a roll of film is being fed through a projector. Many shapes and colors take form and lose form before the noise loses speed, and a scene unfolds onto the screen.


    A young boy sits in a dark room in front of a computer monitor. The screen serves as the only light in the small room, illuminating the child’s listless face and messy black hair topped with a raggedy pair of headphones.


    The boy ceases browsing the net at the sound of thumping on his door. Prying his headphones off slightly, he tilts his head back- toward the door.


    “Hey, dinner!” the voice of another young boy rings callously as the thumping continues. “Why do you keep the door locked anyway? Edmond! Come break his door open!”


    Ignoring the disturbance, I return the headphones to their snug position and click on the next video I see. The video shows a girl, younger than me, with charming pink hair sitting down at a piano in a room full of classy-looking people who give her every bit of their attention. As the girl begins to play with a careless smile on her face, the boy’s uninterested expression changes, his eyes growing wide.


    The beating on the door grows louder, but the boy is too drawn in by the sweet melody to notice. The girl’s natural charm and delicate figure pairs perfectly with her gentle playing, captivating the boy, and drawing tears from his eyes. Before the song ends, he begins typing something in the comment section. His fingers pound down on the keyboard as if he’d been doing it for many years, while the thumping noise on the door turns into an even louder slamming.


    Just as the boy clicks the button to submit the comment, his door swings open with a crash. He turns to find four larger boys piling over each other as they fall into the room. The largest of them immediately gets up and closes the distance between them, and before the boy can react, his old office chair is pulled out from under him, and he’s thrown onto the floor.


    His mouse and keyboard fall from the desk, while the cord of his headphones is tugged taut, nearly forced out of the computer. The girl’s sweet piano continues to ring loudly in his ears as the boy recoils in pain.


    “What is he watching, Edmond?” the smirking boy who had been beating on the door shouts, stepping over the fallen boy to look at the computer. “Eh? What is this? Some little girl playing piano?”


    The boy attempts a crawling escape, but the other three boys pin him down. As the smirking boy begins punching and kicking the pinned boy, he wraps his hands around the headphones covering his ears, allowing his face to be stricken instead.


    “Boys, leave him alone already!” a woman’s voice barks from the hallway. However, the other boys all begin to kick and punch the coiled-up boy, ignoring the voice.


    The boy closes his eyes, holding the headphones firm. The scene goes black as the film roll choppily cuts to a new scene- an endless expanse of space. The viewpoint is from the surface of a dense burning star speeding through the vast darkness, pulling in other stars as it passes them. The stars that are pulled in instantly evaporate amidst the larger star’s fiery surface. Ahead, through the expanse of stars, another larger star stands out- one large enough to be considered a planet.


    The scene shifts back to the boy, who sits undeterred at his computer in the same dark room, engrossed in a recorded performance by the genius piano-playing girl. As he listens to the beautiful chords through the same pair of raggedy headphones, a hard, incessant knock on the door sounds. He turns his head slightly, ensuring the furniture placed in front of the door remains secure.


    After the song ends, he eagerly submits a comment before replaying the song. As he listens, the door is knocked on again, reminding him of his growling stomach. Attempting to ignore it, he holds the headphones tightly to his ears until his consciousness fades out.


    The expanse of space comes into the screen once more, as more stars are consumed by the larger star. Like a camera panning downward, the screen’s perspective turns downward, as If looking upon the perspective subject’s own hands. The blurry, flowing hands glow with the star’s great flame, but surely cannot hold anything within them.


    The subject looks ahead, at another blurry figure hovering over the star’s flame. The figure points toward the vast expanse of stars ahead. The subject follows its direction, and narrows its gaze to a place many millions of stars beyond. As if looking through a lens, the subject finally spots more of the large stars that it had watched become consumed by the greater star. At least nine in total, one comprised of green and blue shapes and possessing its own orbiting star.


    The subject’s blurry fists clench, and the scene cuts out once more. The scene shifts back to the scrawny black-haired boy, who looks at his shaking, bloodied fists with shock in his eyes as an uplifting piano piece plays in his head. One by one, he looks over the battered faces of four boys, their bodies scattered across the pavement in front of him.


    Wiping his hands on his jeans, the boy steps over their bodies and strides swiftly down the dark road in front of him, the flickering orange street lights casting their dim glow over his face. His expression, splotched with blood, is one of violent apathy baring a fear that contrasts its resoluteness.


    Like a wounded animal whose natural instincts finally kicked in, the wide-eyed boy silently walks on, repositioning the straps of his backpack and adjusting the raggedy headphones over his ears.


    “Certainly, this was the moment that… at sixteen… I realized my purpose in life.”


    Whether the voice came from my own mouth, or from the theatre screen itself, I do not know. I only know that it is, indeed, my voice.


    “I must protect this beautiful sound.”


    The scene shifts to daytime. The teenage boy sits cross-legged outside a café underneath a parasol, during a spring sun-shower. His grey slacks and tucked button-down shirt accentuate his tall, thin build that has managed to grow some definition despite his scrawny nature.


    He sweeps his well-kept hair out of his bespectacled eyes as he smiles upon the screen of the compact laptop sitting on the café table, which contrasts the raggedy headphones hidden underneath his voluminous hair. His fingers meet the keyboard, much swifter and more precise than before.


    After submitting his comment, he replays the video performance of the new song, a content smile on his face. “It’s been at least a year. Not once have I had to resort to that since I left. You might have really saved me…”


    The boy mutters to himself, wincing as he looks past the parasol toward the emerging sun. “Maybe I don’t have a full grasp on it yet, but one day, I will fulfill my purpose- my dream… because, you helped me understand what it feels like to have something you want to protect.”


    The scene washes away with the rain, and the screen clicks rapidly like a camera shutter once more. In the dark several images appear, flashing by as if hastily added to the film roll. An image of a young Mirei collapsing over her piano, followed by an image of a young Mary being dragged down a staircase by her long hair. Another image reveals a bedridden Mirei crying over a picture of her mother, and another reveals Mary, blindfolded and wounded as she lays lifeless on an old futon mattress.


    I shudder as I remember Mathias’ words. I want to check on the girls, since they must be seeing much more than I am of their scars, but my eyes are glued to the screen via the spectacles.


    The screen ceases its frenzy, forming a scene anew. The teenage boy sits in a pub, silently drinking a mug of ale while a whimsical Irish folksong plays throughout the pub. His hair has grown out longer than ever, and his formal wear accentuates his trained body. A gruff older man sits next to him, wearing a heavy coat and hat and facing forward, never looking at the boy.


    “You’re quite young for a mercenary,” the weary man grunts quietly.


    “I’m more a private investigator than a merc,” the teenager replies in a mumble.


    “Well, I won’t ask how you got into this line of work… but you know about these vicious bandits, don’t you?”


    “Ireland’s Finest…” the boy replies. “They control the underground, and have political influence as well. They’re likely watching the people in this pub, even. They certainly must be keeping tabs on the father of the kidnapped girl. You’re risking your neck and mine, you know?”


    “What else am I supposed to do?” the man whispers sharply. “You’re too young to understand what it means to have something to protect…”


    “I’ve been seeking just that,” the boy says in a soft voice. “A beautiful melody worth protecting with my life. Sadly, the melody stopped playing a month ago, after a bleak refrain. I took this job in the hopes that I might find meaning again.”


    “A month… it’s been about that long since I lost her,” the man whispers, his hoarse voice breaking with grief.


    “A girl with a rare heart condition, taken inexplicably from her home while her single father was at work, and gone without a trace. I’ll look into it, and follow wherever the tracks lead me- you have my word on that.”


    “Thank you, JC,” the man grumbles as his demeanor begins to fall apart. “I promise to take care of any expenses, and I will be in your debt forevermore.”


    The chaotic folksong drowns out the man’s voice as the scene shifts once more, revealing a decadent park lined with cherry-blossom trees. The boy is sitting at a bench on the outskirts of an outdoor lecture, typing on his laptop.


    This time, he wears no smile while typing out his message: “I regret to inform you that my search, after tracking them to the Shibuya Ward of Japan, has ended in failure.”


    The boy closes his laptop as the lecture disperses, and watches the cherry-blossom petals blow with the wind, reminding me of the significance of this event. I quickly look away from the thin girl approaching the boy amidst a crowd of students.


    The shutter clicks forcibly through several still images containing the girl, holding my uneasy heart hostage all the way through. As I continue to avert my eyes, the scene finally shifts to a desolate world.


    Like before, the sun is descending onto the earth. The man in the diving suit throws the great fiery ball at the boy, but he runs immediately instead of catching it first.


    With another click, the young man finds himself in the lobby of Worldbeaters Inc in his best formal wear. A man with cold black eyes, blond hair, and a charismatic smile leads him around the building, introducing people on every floor.


    On the basement floor, the man shows him into room labeled “PC Booster”, where a large, multi-paneled particle accelerating machine covers the walls of a circular room.


    A monitor begins beeping on the machine, displaying a blank-faced symbol just above a small speaker that fits oddly on the machine. The young man looks over the monitor with intense curiosity.


    “Hello, JC. It’s good to finally meet you in your world.”


    He merely stares, frozen with fear.


    “The otherworldly feeling you only ever experienced during your troubled childhood, the feeling you thought you’d never grasp again, is threatening your current sense of reality. Is that correct?”


    The young man nods slowly and silently as the blond-haired man steps in between him and the monitor. “Allow us to explain the technicalities of the PC Booster and Aku at a later time. I would like to show you the other reason for your employment, regarding the new machine we spoke about before. Please, follow me to the next room.”


    The shutter clicks heavily as the scene cuts to another room- a white-tiled room resembling hospital patient quarters.


    Two beds are lined up next to each other. Their occupants are two deathly frail girls who look to be around the age of eleven or twelve. He instantly recognizes both of them, his face bearing a visceral shock.


    Upon gazing at the black-haired girl, the shutter clicks, revealing pictures of the missing girl given to him by her father. Along with the clicks of the shutter, I hear the sound of labored breaths coming from the theater seat to my left.


    The other girl, whose pink hair is striking despite its dull tone, prompts a series of shutter clicks. The many memories of her videos display in a flurry, forcing him to grasp his ears, tears streaming silently down his face.


    “This is the result of an ill-advised operation to transplant half a heart,” the blond man says, not a trace of emotion in his voice. “The Shibutani Group left these two comatose girls in our care three years ago. As long as an effort is made to save the pink-haired one, they have given us the right to experiment as we see fit. Therefore…”


    “I… finally found them,” the young man mutters, his eyes bouncing to-and-fro. “They were together all this time, ever since the music stopped…”


    “Unfortunately,” the blond man continues in an impatient voice, “their bodies stand nearly no chance for prolonged survival, even if by some miracle they were to wake.”


    “They won’t wake at all?” the young man appeals desperately.


    “Their hearts… no, their bodies, are basically dead,” he replies. “However, this experiment may give them life anew. And that is where you come in, JC.”


    The young man blinks to keep the tears at bay, and slowly removes his glasses while tightening his expression.


    “I’ll do anything… my entire life has led to this.”


    The shutter clicks through several images of the young man sitting in a dark theater room, the rapid clicks intensifying before ending in a loud crescendo of clashing iron.


    The scene shifts to a small office room. A slender beauty armed with expertly fringed mid-length black hair and a blue suit is seated in a chair at a long table, opposite a smarmy-looking businessman and alongside another man. The fit man wears a black suit, his shiny black hair slicked back and trimmed. His green eyes beam bright without any glasses in their way as he talks energetically across the table. The girl smiles sarcastically at him, and proceeds to sign several papers before standing and bowing at the man across the table. The two leave the room, and board a bullet train together.


    “Don’t you think that went well, Mary?” the man asks with a hearty smile as he holds onto the straphanger.


    “Mm, yeah, I suppose you aren’t so bad at this stuff…” the girl responds in a mumble as she merrily bites into a steamed bun, a half-empty sports drink in her off hand.


    “Well, you wouldn’t have hired me if you didn’t think I was, right?” the man shoots back with a smirk.


    “Eh, I figured you’ll do, for now,” she answers with a shrug and mouth full of food.


    “Ever the sweet-talker, my client,” he says with a defeated smile, “but you won’t forget me when you make it big in the modeling world, will you? You’ll trust me as your agent till the end, right?”


    “I never make a promise I can’t keep,” she answers with a sadistic smirk before gulping down the rest of the sports drink.


    The shutter clicks once more, and the scene shifts to a small apartment room. The clean-cut man, still dressed in his suit, sits at a small coffee table. The laptop on the table is playing a live piano performance with vocals, complete with studio-quality recording and producing. Smiling weakly, he watches the video to its end before typing up a comment. As he moves to hit reply, his hand retracts, and he holds his head, his smile gone.


    The shutter clicks again, and the man appears in the theater room, waking alone in front of a dark screen. He hunches over in his seat, holding his shaking head. With another click of the shutter, he moves to the white room, standing in front of the beds containing the two girls, hooked up to several blinking machines and wearing thick spectacles on their frail, lifeless faces.


    “Three years going back and forth… no matter what kind of life they live inside, I still can’t do anything for them here.” He looks to the small mirror on the wall, inspecting his unkempt hair and unshaven face.


    “I can’t do anything for myself, or them, here. But... at least I can see them in my dreams. I want to go back.”


    Like the shutter, my eyes blink heavily as I return to the theater room. I sit forward in my seat, sweat dripping down my face. Catching my breath, I turn to the two girls sitting on either side of me.


    Their faces have gone deathly pale, as if they’ve come to the end of the world itself. Mirei’s lips tremble as if seeking to form a sound, while Mary blinks her wide eyes at her hands as if to confirm her existence.


    “Now you see,” I mutter in the gentlest, most woeful voice I can muster, “how sad your reality is. And that you’ve lived the entirety of your young adult lives here in this dreamscape.”