《dream;catcher》 Departure An outstretched hand falls limp to my side as I lament my powerlessness. I recall the feeling of waves crashing harshly onto me, and an image of ruin beyond measure, guided by my own hands. Having pinned my hopes on a dream, I entrust everything to her as I drift off into a deep sleep with a shutter¡¯s click. The puffing sound of a steam engine reaches my ears as heightened awareness fills my dazed head. I''d thought I was supposed to be in a deep sleep, so the surreal sounds of a train engine leave my newly awake mind in wonder. If this is a dream, there''s something off about how surreal it feels. Adding to that, I can''t even open my eyes. The only other alternative would be that it''s come time for me to be used again, at last. That doesn''t feel right, though, as my intuition is telling me I''ve done what was needed to protect myself. It could simply be that I''m in a confused, half-asleep stupor. The overwhelming urge to wake myself becomes prevalent, as my hazy mind begins to give shape to the place I should be. The image of the place is blurry, but the person I should be with is coming into view beyond a great white light- a light that peels my heavy eyelids open. As if my mind changed channels, I awaken anew. I¡¯m still tired, but by the time my eyes are open, the grogginess is gone. I find myself in a small room baring a mixed resemblance to both a waiting room and a train compartment. The white walls are lined with murals of abstract shapes and various colors. The room''s only other assets are the velvet red couch I''m sitting on just in front of a small window, and a small granite fireplace. If this is an agency, it¡¯s one I haven¡¯t been to before, at least. Regardless, it''s unlike me to be napping at a job appearance, and thanks to that, I can¡¯t remember what the hell I¡¯ve been doing all day. I can''t help but fear I''ve finally lost my mind, even though I''m just twenty-four. I feel for my hair to make sure it¡¯s still intact and find it as long and voluminous as ever, flowing near the bottom of my black and white-striped blouse, prompting a sigh of relief. I''ll have to call my manager and have him remind me where I¡¯m at. Whether this is a shoot or just a meeting, I get the sense that the place is upscale, or at least trying to look it. The contrast between the white walls and colorful murals gives me a creepy feeling, undeterred by the sofa and fireplace. I get the sense I''m in for a stressful day with whoever the hell is responsible for this kind of decor. Just as my fingers reach the slightly cold phone in the pocket of my black suit pants, a voice nearly sends my heart leaping into my throat. ¡°Um?¡± Somehow, I''ve not noticed her until now, even though she''s sitting just across the sofa from me. Her confused expression compounds my stress. I don''t have time to deal with a newbie right now, since I''m in a predicament of my own. ¡°What is it?¡± my sharp response disarms the poor girl along with my glare. Her pretty face strikes me, breaking my hard glare for a moment. it isn''t surprising she''s in with the same client as me. The fluorescent glow of her white skin compliments her soft-pink hair that must have taken hours to curl. She''s got the frail cutie look down, which is probably what got her in. I''m a bit jealous since I don¡¯t think I ever could have used that strategy despite all my hard work. My better judgement overcomes the desire to unfairly antagonize her for her charm, reluctant as I am to act like the more experienced professional. However, before I can even muster the words that will prove me the bigger person- ¡°Do you¡­know where we are?¡± The way she¡¯s holding her knees, her eyes welling up, were probably something I should have picked up on- and I might have, had I not been preoccupied with my own thoughts. My face frozen in fear of the answer, I ask in a stammer: ¡°could it be¡­you don¡¯t remember anything, either?¡± ¡°Y-you too?¡± she asks in utter exasperation. Shit, this isn''t good. There''s genuine panic on her face, like she¡¯s scared for her life. I''m not confident I can maintain my composure, now. ¡°Wait¡­you¡¯re messing with me because I was asleep, aren¡¯t you?¡± I demand with a forced chuckle. ¡°Do you really think that¡¯s something a newbie should be doing? Actually, I won¡¯t even be mad if that¡¯s the case since that¡¯d be pretty impressive. So just admit it, okay?¡± She blinks at me stupidly, raising her brow. ¡°Um¡­I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about¡­honestly. I was asleep too.¡± Shit is right. I¡¯m sure my expression has lost all composure. ¡°You really don¡¯t know anything? To be frank, I have no idea what I¡¯ve been doing all day. I thought we were at an agency doing a shoot or something, but I can¡¯t remember even a single detail. What do you remember?¡± Her eyes light up as she blurts out, ¡°wait, you¡¯re a model? No way! Well, I mean, you¡¯re really pretty so it makes sense¡­¡± Her cheeks turn red, which brings me a sense of satisfaction I can''t help but feel slightly guilty for. ¡°Stay focused, pinkie.¡± What a perfect ditz. She¡¯d be a great idol after all, assuming she''s not completely mental. She looks away, shrinking back as she replies, ¡°o-oh, I¡¯m sorry. Um, yeah, I don¡¯t remember anything either. Just my name, and not much else.¡± ¡°Hm? At least I remember what I do and stuff¡­what¡¯s your name, then?¡± I ask with a furrowed brow, leaning in toward her with an inquisitive stare. ¡°It¡¯s Mirei.¡± ¡°Hm, that¡¯s a pretty name." I''m still staring daggers at her, but for some reason she''s smiling. ¡°And you are?¡± ¡°I¡¯m Mary." My words match my relaxed posture as I lean back in the sofa. ¡°Oh, our names sound so similar!¡± she exclaims, face alit. I can''t fathom why she''d find that so exciting, especially considering our situation. ¡°Yeah, I guess they do.¡± ¡°Are you from outside Japan?¡± she asks in a tone still too excitable for my liking. ¡°Yeah, Irish-actually, you remember you¡¯re Japanese?¡± I note, turning back toward her. ¡°Hum¡­ I guess so,¡± she answers, gazing down on her noticeably thin legs covered by her pleated pink skirt. ¡°Where from?¡± ¡°Shibuya.¡± I couldn¡¯t even remember that until now. ¡°Yeah, same for me. Then, surely that¡¯s where we are. I wonder if we took part in some sort of social experiment like you see on tv. Are you sure you¡¯re not some kind of idol?¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Sorry,¡± she replies with a smile. ¡°I just can¡¯t remember. I think, maybe I worked with computers though. Just a vague notion.¡± ¡°I get it, but why are you smiling while talking about yourself?¡± I prod, narrowing my gaze on her. ¡°Who knows what kind of situation we¡¯re in? Shouldn¡¯t you go back to being scared?¡± She looks up with a meek smile. ¡°Huh? I¡¯m sorry, I just get the feeling I don¡¯t meet people very often.¡± ¡°That so?¡± ¡°But you don¡¯t think¡­we were kidnapped, or something, do you? There¡¯s no way, right?¡± She laughs nervously. ¡°Don¡¯t even joke about that,¡± I fire back in a stern tone. ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sor-¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the case,¡± I cut in. ¡°This place seems a bit too leisurely for something dark like that. It is weird that there¡¯s only one door, though, if we really are at an office of some sort.¡± Before I can stand up and make my way to the door, I''m stopped in my tracks by the sound of flames licking the air. In the fireplace, the flames rise up to form a menace in the shape of face. It¡¯s a nearly abstract face that I can hardly call a face, baring resemblance to the strange murals on the walls. Its blood red eyes look into my own, rooting me to the sofa. Mirei''s gaze slowly follows mine to the fireplace, at which she lets out a stifled gasp. ¡°W-what the hell?¡± I follow, unable to hide the panic on my face. ¡°Good evening, young ladies,¡± the fire hisses like a snake. ¡°You needn¡¯t be afraid just yet, nothing is going to happen on this train,¡± it continues in a deep whisper as the flames comprising its face overlap each other in a hypnotizing cycle. ¡°What are you talking about? What are you?¡± ¡°Ah, Miss Mary, it¡¯s as expected for you to take the lead. I am a mere entity, a god of sorts. You may call me Aku if you like.¡± Despite its villainous voice sputtering forth from the flames, I can¡¯t help but take note of its polite way of speaking. ¡°A-aku?¡± Mirei asks, shrinking back in her seat without realizing she¡¯s clinging to me. ¡°Like¡­like a demon?¡± ¡°Yes, Miss Mirei, you may see me as a god or a demon, whichever you like,¡± it replies casually. ¡°However, you should not worry about me, but about each other. I am merely your goal.¡± ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡± I cry out, unable to contain my exasperation any longer. ¡°What the hell are we doing here?¡± ¡°Indeed, your goal is to, by the end of this train ride, obtain my power- a power of gods.¡± ¡°Train ride? Gods?¡± Mirei asks, flustered. I recall hearing a steam engine earlier, but there hasn¡¯t been any sound since. I feel the sofa to check for any shaking, but there isn''t any. However, just as I do so, the soft sound of beaten railroad tracks reaches my ear. ¡°And why do we need to obtain such a power?¡± I demand, ignoring my confusion to stand to my feet. ¡°That is simple,¡± he answers slowly. ¡°You both desperately need the god¡¯s power. And you will fight against each other¡¯s very own dreams to obtain it. That is,¡± he pauses as a thin smile forms within the shroud of flames, ¡°If you wish to wake up from this world of dreams we¡¯ve placed you in and return to your real bodies.¡± ¡°Wha-what world of dreams?¡± Mirei stammers, tears quickly filling her eyes. ¡°What are you talking about? What the hell have you done to us?¡± I scream, lunging at the fireplace. Just as I release myself from the invisible nails latching me to the floor, the figure dissipates, the flames returning to a light stoke. ¡°Mary, what is this? What¡¯s going to happen to us?¡± Mirei sobs, looking up at me like a lost child as she holds on to her quaking shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t know! It¡¯s got to be some sort of sick joke...We need to get out of here!¡± I make for the door, only to be stopped in my tracks once more as the door opens with a creak. ¡°Excuse me, please pardon my interruption.¡± A man shuffles through the door in a panic, as if he¡¯s just arrived late to a business meeting. I immediately find myself averse to his appearance. Baring a jet-black tuxedo and slicked back hair, he has the look of an attractive upstart nervous to begin his first day at a corporate job. ¡°Who are you?¡± I demand, launching all of my lingering ill-will at him. As if sensing the fear on our faces, he tries to loosen up and form a polite smile, but it¡¯s way too forced. ¡°My name is JC. It¡¯s a pleasure meeting you both. I will be your guide on this train ride, so you may ask me any questions, though I cannot answer everything as I do not remember everything myself.¡± ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t remember? Are you with that thing in the fire?¡± His face grows firm with confidence as he replies, ¡°I am like a proxy of Aku¡¯s. I am an escort, an observer, and perhaps in some capacity a participant.¡± ¡°Participant? What kind of sick game is this?¡± ¡°I assure you this is not a game,¡± he answers with a stern look. ¡°The situation is as Aku explained to you two. You are in a state of comatose sleep, and the only way you might wake from it is to receive the god¡¯s power, Aku¡¯s very essence that he brought into this dreamscape.¡± ¡°Dreamscape? You expect us to believe that shit?¡± I bare my teeth as I berate him. ¡°Ah-Mary, look!¡± Mirei cries out from the window, beckoning me over. I reluctantly leave JC to gaze into the dark through the small windowpane. Outside, I discover no sign of earth, nor a true sky. Stars shine in the horizon, along with various different sized moons, which reflect in the water we''re traveling across. ¡°Water?¡± I mutter, stupefied by the scene before me. JC clears his throat. ¡°As you can see, the world around us is constructed. It isn¡¯t reality. It is a dreamscape that you have been trapped in, one which will allow just one of you to obtain the god¡¯s power and escape. While the other¡­ will disappear along with the dreamscape.¡± Mirei''s eyes meet mine, as if to confirm our sinking hearts. Recovering from my shock, I turn back to JC. ¡°There¡¯s no point in trying to run or fight, is there?¡± ¡°None at all,¡± he says with a confident nod. ¡°You¡¯ll simply return to this room if you try to exit the train right now.¡± ¡°Right now?¡± ¡°Yes, we¡¯ll be having stops on this ride, so to speak,¡± he answers politely. ¡°We will disembark in the morning and begin the preparations for the contest.¡± ¡°Where are we getting off?¡± Mirei asks, rubbing her sullen eyes. ¡°You see, this is a very versatile dreamscape, so we¡¯ll be stopping in Shibuya-rather, a replication of Shibuya.¡± ¡°So, it isn¡¯t just this mass of water, then¡­¡± I mumble to myself. After a brief pause, JC offers us an earnest smile. ¡°I have to say, you¡¯re both reacting quite well to this. I expected a bit more panic, to be honest.¡± I stare out the window again, while Mirei returns to the couch with a downcast look. ¡°Well, between you and that devil, and this scenery, it¡¯s hard to deny,¡± I answer with a sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you mean by fighting each other¡¯s dreams, but it looks like we¡¯ll just have to prepare for the worst if we want to live.¡± ¡°I-I agree, we can¡¯t just let things end like this, can we¡­¡± The determination in Mirei¡¯s voice strikes me as rare, however feeble, and uncertain it is. JC smiles again, offering a short bow. ¡°I appreciate your understanding, that makes things easier for me. I hope you¡¯ll continue to show such strength tomorrow. Well then, I¡¯ll be coming to retrieve you in the morning when it is time to arrive at the first stop. Try to get some sleep.¡± I ignore the hesitant sidelong glance he gives before exiting, and slump onto the sofa next to Mirei with a sigh. ¡°Are you¡­scared, Mary?¡± ¡°Of course, I am, who wouldn¡¯t be?¡± an honest reply comes automatically. ¡°Yeah¡­you¡¯re right,¡± she replies, sounding defeated. ¡°Something about the thought of my dreams feels really unsettling, but I can¡¯t really think of why," I follow, rubbing my temples to ease my newfound headache. ¡°I feel the same way. Should we¡­um¡­¡± ¡°What? Spit it out,¡± I snap, looking at her crossly. ¡°Should we help each other¡­ if it gets really scary?¡± She manages to stumble through the question with an innocent look, despite my bad attitude, which leaves me impressed. Yet, thinking realistically, I furrow my brow. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be counterproductive? If only one of us get to escape¡­¡± She looks down again before sighing. ¡°You¡¯re right... It¡¯s just, I think that if I won because I abandoned you, I wouldn¡¯t want to return to my life.¡± Her warm words disarm me and leave me unable to maintain my attitude. ¡°You¡¯re too sweet, you know that?¡± I flash her a short smirk, at which she blushes. Sensing her embarrassment, I regain my composure. ¡°We don¡¯t even know what grounds we¡¯re supposedly fighting on, right? Why don¡¯t we see what the deal is with our dreams, and if it¡¯s something that¡¯s really scary for both of us, then sure, we can help each other. Just don¡¯t expect me to give up my victory for you, got it?¡± Blinking dumbly, she slowly puts on a smile that accentuates her pale cheeks. ¡°Thank you, that really puts me at ease. I¡¯ll do everything I can for you, and I¡¯ll be counting on you for help as well, Mary!¡± ¡°Sure, sure,¡± I respond with a raised brow. You really are an odd one, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Hehe, I feel like I get that a lot,¡± she says, preening absent-mindedly. ¡°Sounds about right,¡± I mutter, looking away. A long moment of silence passes over us, as I try to take in the situation. ¡°The view outside really is pretty, isn¡¯t it?¡± Mirei breaks the silence in a softer voice than before. ¡°Well yeah, I guess that¡¯s the upside to being stuck in a dream world, huh?¡± ¡°I feel like, maybe, it wouldn¡¯t be all that bad to stay here a while and watch the ocean,¡± she replies. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen the ocean, actually.¡± ¡°What, really? You¡¯re sure you remember that right?¡± I look at her inquisitively. ¡°Yeah, for some reason I just know,¡± she answers, gazing absentmindedly outside. ¡°I think I¡¯ve always wanted to be on a boat in the middle of the ocean.¡± ¡°Hmm, now that I think of it, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve done a summer cruise or two,¡± I reflect out loud. ¡°Soaking up the sun with the smell of fresh barbeque in the air. Even better when it¡¯s raining, a rainy festival on the sea is probably the greatest thing in the world. Say, you ever tried a fried pork-kabob?¡± No answer comes to my ramblings as, before I had realized it, Mirei had fallen asleep, her head sliding down to rest on my shoulder. Chuckling through my nose, I curl my legs and follow suit with one last glance at the moonlit night¡¯s sky. Disembarkment I wake once more to the sound of a steam engine chugging vigorously, and jump to my feet upon remembering where I am. A shooting pain sears across my head, but I instinctively grasp at my chest before staring in confusion at my hand, and moving it to my aching head. ¡°Ah! A-are you okay?¡± Mirei asks in a panic as she skirts through the doorway with two paper cups in her hand. ¡°Huh, yeah,¡± I respond, still dazed. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°There was a coffeemaker in the hall, and I was hoping you would have some with me,¡± she says, an embarrassed smile shining amidst her weary face. ¡°Is it black?¡± ¡°Yeah, that was the only choice, really,¡± she chuckles, handing one of the cups to me. ¡°You¡¯re a lifesaver,¡± I mumble through a yawn. ¡°So, what were you doing outside anyway? What¡¯s out there?¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just a plain hallway,¡± she answers. ¡°When I went out there, JC was there getting coffee, so I talked to him for a bit.¡± ¡°Oh, what about?¡± I ask, exhaling after taking a swig of the moderately hot coffee. ¡°Well, um, I just wanted to ask if he knew anything about me that I didn¡¯t know, since I still can¡¯t remember how I got here or anything,¡± she says while nervously peeling a strip of paper off her cup. ¡°Well?¡± ¡°He said he doesn¡¯t know anything either,¡± she answers, looking slightly dejected. ¡°I guess he¡¯s having a hard time remembering everything himself, though he knows he works with that- with Aku.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not sure we should trust that guy too much,¡± I declare, folding my arms. ¡°He seems nice to me,¡± she responds, looking unsure of something. ¡°But this whole thing is so scary and hard to believe, so I wasn¡¯t able to talk to him like I can talk to you.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good,¡± I reply with a weak smile. ¡°At least you know I¡¯m not connected with that devil in the fire¡­ I feel the same though- this is so scary and surreal I don¡¯t even know how I should be reacting.¡± Unable to maintain eye contact, I look out the window to see a purplish horizon beyond the blue sea with occasional spots of light dotted across it. ¡°You¡¯re really scared?¡± she asks, genuine wonder in her expression. ¡°I know I already asked you last night, but you just seem so stoic about it all¡­¡± ¡°Like I said, I don¡¯t know how to react, so I guess the only thing I can do is to respond like I do in most situations,¡± I answer, glancing hesitantly at her. ¡°I thought you were just much stronger than me, so it¡¯s kind of a relief to hear you say all that,¡± she says, her fragile smile bathed in so much warmth that it draws me away from the outlandish scenery outside. I show her a modest smile in return. ¡°Well I¡¯m guessing that JC fellow is waiting for us, huh?¡± ¡°Yes, he did say we would be disembarking as soon as you¡¯re ready,¡± she answers with a mixture of excitement and anxiousness. ¡°Thanks to the coffee, I¡¯m about as ready as I¡¯ll ever be,¡± I respond with a sigh, tossing my empty cup into the fireplace along with a disdainful glance. As she reported, the short hallway consists of white walls, a few florescent lights, a grey glazed brick floor, and a few more abstract murals near the door to the room we¡¯d come from. Other than that, it there¡¯s no ornament or life to it, only two more doors on either side. The coffee station seems to have disappeared, but I figure it¡¯s best to ignore that. From the door on the left end of the hall, JC emerges in a hurry, wearing the same black suit as before. ¡°Alright ladies, if you¡¯ll follow me outside this last door, we¡¯ll be off to our first destination.¡± He rushes on, waiting for us at the door. Mirei and I exchange a hesitant glance before following him. As he opens the door, white light bursts into the hallway, prompting all of us to shield our eyes. It¡¯s almost akin to looking directly into the sun itself. ¡°Well, let¡¯s just ignore this and go on through, shall we?¡± JC declares, before leading the way. I follow him, even though I can¡¯t see anything on the other side. Just as I begin to pass through the doorway, something tugs on my hand. I look back, and amidst the blinding light I see Mirei¡¯s shriveling figure, succumbing to tears as she grasps onto my hand. Even though she looks pathetic like this, the light cast onto her figure makes me realize how angelic she actually is. Fighting the urge to hug her thin frame tightly, I offer her a gentle smile before gripping her hand and pulling her through the doorway with me. Together, we venture into the abyss of white light. Despite the clear uncertainty weighing on our hearts, we go with a firm hold on each other¡¯s hand. first stop;foreground The moment we step into the sea of light, we find ourselves on solid ground in a train station that looks a little too normal, all things considered. There are people all around us. Many of them flood by us to board the train behind us, which seems far too normal compared to the inside of the train we¡¯d been on. Ahead we find a series of white-blue pillars and small food booths. No doubt, this is the real Shibuya Station. Before I can fully comprehend the sense of relief I¡¯ve gained by simply exiting the train, JC tugs my hand and begins to weave through the traffic. I follow suit, pulling Mirei through several long winding halls and flights of escalators before reaching the outside of the station. Now that we¡¯re outside, I can truly appreciate the feeling of fresh air filling my lungs. My gaze falls on the sea of pedestrians navigating the vast Shibuya Crossing, and pans beyond toward the sunny portrait of downtown Shibuya. Everything looks real, as if this were the real world. Actually, nothing feels any different from the real world. I pay close attention while JC leads us through the crowd toward the apex of the crowded crossing. Everything I see begins to sync with my lost memories. The cars, the people, and the billboard screens are all as they should be. Nothing feels out of place. ¡°Hey,¡± I blurt out, unable to hold back any longer. ¡°Why does this look exactly like the real world?¡± ¡°I told you before, it¡¯s a replica made by a versatile dreamscape,¡± JC answers, not bothering to look back. He seems to be in a great hurry, making me unsure why it¡¯s necessary to keep pulling us along like this. Unless¡­ I stop at once, forcing the man to look back, showing his disheveled face beaded with sweat, and a mixture of nervous frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t know what kind of sick game this is, but if you don¡¯t want the police on top of you, you better come up with a good reason why we should keep going with you.¡± Strengthening his grip and furrowing his brow, he says, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you. This dreamscape may be versatile, but if you get lost here without me this early on, you won¡¯t stand a chance.¡± ¡°Enough of this farce, this isn¡¯t any different than the real-¡± ¡°It¡¯s not the real world,¡± he cuts me off abruptly. ¡°If it was, don¡¯t you think people would be gawking at us walking like this? They¡¯re basically NPC¡¯s, if you understand that. I¡¯ll admit, I don¡¯t know the extent of what they might do, which is why I¡¯m hurrying.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Then, why don¡¯t we take a car?¡± Mirei adds, finally appearing from behind me with a fearful expression. ¡°Like I said, I don¡¯t know how they might react,¡± he answers sharply. ¡°This place contains too many variables that I can¡¯t account for right now. So, we¡¯re going to make it to the lab on foot.¡± He tries to pull me once more, but I don¡¯t budge, instead hardening my glare at him. ¡°That all sounds nice, but I¡¯m not convinced. Why else would you be so nervous? You¡¯re acting exactly like an abductor would.¡± ¡°You know, Mary,¡± he says as he turns back, his face tightening and going red. He wipes the sweat from his forehead as his tone grows more aggressive, ¡°if I had planned this, why would I be reluctant to use a car? Wouldn¡¯t I just have one prepared? Do you really think an abductor takes a risk like waltzing his targets through the goddamn town?¡± My eyes grow wide at his sudden loss of patience. He clearly is nervous about something, but I can¡¯t ignore the possibility that what he¡¯s saying is true. For some reason, however, I can¡¯t see past the thought of being taken. It¡¯s getting hard to breath, and I feel my vision narrowing. The longer he stares at me with such impatience, the more cornered I feel. My hands shaking, my eyes darting around for an escape route, I- ¡°I think he¡¯s right, Mary,¡± Mirei cries with an air of certainty, gripping my shaking right hand with both of hers. ¡°If this was so organized, I don¡¯t think JC would risk taking us through busy streets like this. Besides, we¡¯re making a scene and nobody¡¯s really paying any attention to us¡­ right?¡± I focus my frenzied mind and turn back to see her smiling softly, albeit a bit forced. She turns to the nearest passerby, puffing her cheeks out and sticking her tongue out at them. When the person walks by without making notice of her, she looks back at me and chuckles awkwardly. ¡°O-okay,¡± I stammer, calming my breaths. I still can¡¯t shake the foreboding feeling in my stomach, but I know I can trust Mirei, at least. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go.¡± JC simply nods and hurries ahead, the aggressive aura he¡¯d been projecting suddenly gone. As we walk through the crowd, I¡¯m once again accosted by the thought of having my freedom taken from me, and a vague memory begins to form in my head. Suddenly emerging from what feels like a black out, I discover we¡¯ve passed through Shibuya Crossing and started down a less crowded sidewalk. We travel several blocks before reaching a part of town I¡¯ve never seen before, stopping at a vacant intersection. To the left and right lie park trails and benches. Straight ahead, the road is outlined with trees, marking the first unrealistic prop that, in one fell swoop, clears the doubt clouding my mind. The trees bear a beautiful spring volume, but what steals my glance is the color of the leaves. Bright pink and ocean blue leaves sit amongst the light green leaves in every tree, unashamed of being completely out of place and bouncing with the wind like they belong there. I glance back at Mirei, who is also captivated by the sight. I find myself slowly trailing off toward the trees with her in tow, but JC strengthens his hold on my hand and guides our path straight down the right side of the road. I realize I¡¯ve become relieved by the sight of the trees, understanding that this must be a dreamscape, after all. I can¡¯t fathom why I feel a sense of relief knowing I¡¯m trapped in some sort of dreamscape, rather than having been abducted in the real world. I wonder how screwed up I must be, thinking that, but I feel like it¡¯s something I can¡¯t help, something ingrained in me. trigger Before long, we reach the end of the road to find what looks like a small, six-story hospital. The sun¡¯s glare eclipsing the top of the building makes it impossible to decipher a name or logo, and the plexiglass walls lining the first floor give no information either. We enter through a pitch-black revolving door and quickly make our way across an empty lobby and into an elevator. JC presses the ¡®6¡¯ button and within seconds we¡¯re jolted upward and thrust to a stop, the elevator door leaping open for us. Wasting no time, he leads us down a short hallway before entering a dark room. As he ushers us in before switching on a dim overhead light, I notice his facial features have relaxed significantly. I follow him into the newly lit room, and my eyes are immediately drawn away from him, to a large screen on the wall. In front of the screen lay two exquisite red theater chairs beside each other. The whole room, in fact, seems to be themed after a theater, with matching red velvet walls and a projector situated behind a glass wall next to the podium JC stands next to. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get started,¡± JC says, smiling. ¡°Please have a seat, you two.¡± ¡°What is all this?¡± I ask, glaring at the chairs with pursed lips. ¡°It¡¯s just as it looks,¡± he answers, not bothering to look at us as he digs through a drawer. ¡°A theater that will bring your dreams to the surface of your mind, where you can¡¯t escape them.¡± ¡°Bring our dreams to the surface?¡± Mirei repeats, her eyes brimming with fear. ¡°Fight against each other¡¯s dreams,¡± I mutter as I lay a hand on the armrest of the nearest chair. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± JC answers as he turns back toward us. ¡°This theater contains technology similar to what allowed this place to be imagined. To use it, I will need you both to drown yourselves in your own dreams and the factors creating them.¡± ¡°Drown¡­¡± Mirei mutters, her shoulders shaking. ¡°You will do this until one of your dreams outweighs the other¡¯s, which will decide the direction this world goes in.¡± My eyes narrow at his words, while Mirei teeters with an anxious look. ¡°Why exactly do we need this theater if we¡¯re in a dreamscape already?¡± ¡°All things are born of a catalyst,¡± he answers, smiling as he holds up two pairs of glasses. ¡°If this replica of Shibuya is no different than the real one, then it stands to reason why a realistic catalyst is needed to progress things. I¡¯m merely an engineer for that catalyst, so it¡¯s not like I can just snap a finger and show you your dreams.¡± ¡°Then what about Aku?¡± I ask, glaring at him as he casually approaches us. ¡°If he¡¯s a god or whatever, why can¡¯t he do it?¡± ¡°Like I said before, I do not know everything myself,¡± he replies with a complicated look. ¡°I can only hope you¡¯ll trust in the path I¡¯m meant to guide you down, if you want to get out of here.¡± Mirei and I glance at each other for a moment, before nodding hesitantly and taking a seat in the chairs as JC hands us each a pair of glasses. ¡°What are these for?¡± I ask, holding the black-rimmed spectacles in front of my face. ¡°These glasses will connect your vision to the screen once certain criteria are met,¡± he answers, taking a step back. ¡°They are the relay point your dreams will use to travel from your mind to the screen. Your goal is to fill the screen with your vision, your dreams, cutting out everything else. Please, go ahead and put them on.¡± The glasses fit me snugly, and I can see clearly out of them. Mirei looks at me with a half-smile, and all I can think of is how well her pink-rimmed glasses suit her. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll focus your eyes on the screen, and try to cease any extraneous thoughts.¡± JC¡¯s words pull me away from her charming figure, and I look ahead as he presses a button on a small remote before disappearing behind us. Ambient music begins flowing from speakers on the wall behind us, and the screen lights up. I¡¯m suddenly forced to cease any other thoughts as my eyes are plastered to the screen. A layered image appears, giving me an impression of a flower. From the outside, black and white petal-like patterns overlap, growing smaller as they progress toward the center, a small black dot. ¡°Try not to blink, and focus on the center of the image,¡± JC says. His voice seems far away, as does the room itself. The patterns of the flower start to move as I focus my eyes on the center, and some layered petals grow larger than others. They expand, twist, invert, and begin colliding with petals on the other side of the flower.Stolen novel; please report. Before I know it, I¡¯m lost in the ever-changing nature of the patterns, and the petals on the left side of the flower begin to warp into something new. The shape infiltrates my head, and I suddenly feel detached from my body. My vision consists solely of the abstract shapes swirling about, and I feel like I¡¯m swimming amongst them. I¡¯m wrapped up by the shapes, unable to move. As I try to break free and grab ahold of Mirei next to me, I¡¯m folded up, completely smothered by the shapes. My mind feels like it¡¯s going to cave in if I don¡¯t struggle, but the more I struggle the more I¡¯m folded up by the shapes. My arms and legs become the shapes as I fold, until I¡¯m consumed by the feeling of being trapped. Suddenly the shapes around me set in like ink on a page, forming a futon in a small room with a taped-over window. The ambient music fades into the rhythmic clacking of a train on tracks. The futon is hard and without sheets or pillows, its stuffing protruding from many tears. Once I realize I myself am laying on the futon, the picture becomes clear. My hands are bounded behind my back, my mouth is constrained by several layers of tape, and my long hair is taped painfully to my neck. The only source of light in the small train compartment is seeping through the taped window, illuminating the room just enough for me to see all the blood stained across the white futon. After a moment, I realize the blood is my own, as more trickles down my face and body. Tears roll down my face as I process the pain coursing through my body, and fail to make any sound or movement. Suddenly, a blade rips through the futon from below, protruding by several inches and stopping just shy of my nose. I continue to sob in silence, unable to move against the paralyzing pain. Seconds later, the blade tears through the mattress once more, sinking an inch deep into my ribs. My body instinctively jumps, and I am finally allowed to scream in pain. However, a sharp pain in my throat cuts the scream short, and continues throbbing with my every breath. The blade is withdrawn once more, and I hear cheering coming from below. Once more the blade cuts through, stabbing into my thigh. As it returns to more cheers, I begin to understand. I don¡¯t know where I am or why I¡¯m here, but I understand that I absolutely must move my body. Finding the strength despite my pained sobs, I roll myself over. Another strike of the blade comes, narrowly missing my hip. No cheers come this time, as I roll until I reach the edge of the futon, only to find it meeting the wall. Terror spikes within me as I roll around desperately, realizing there is no floor in the small room. The blade stabs my stomach, my back, my foot, my forearm, and my neck before I give up my struggle and bury my face into the futon. The mixture of blood and tears burn my eyes, yet I find some warmth in feeling the moisture from the tears spilled upon the mattress. I ponder the option of laying like this until my throat or another vital is stricken. I would not have to suffer anymore. At current, it doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯ll ever die with how shallow the stab wounds are. A feeling of relief begins to sweep over me, but it is curbed by a sudden itch inside my head. I notice how thirsty I am, overcome with the urge to drink the salty tears I¡¯m burying my face in. It also feels like it¡¯s become impossible to breathe out of my nose, as if I¡¯ve forgotten how. I grow obsessed with the idea of quenching my thirst and breathing freely. I glance at the window through blurred vision, strengthening the feeling of restlessness inside me. I want to move my legs, and bathe in sunlight. An idea comes over me. I pick out one of the few spots in the futon that haven¡¯t been stabbed through, and lunge toward it. The blade comes through right on time, and slices through the tape and into my mouth. I ignore the pain in my lips and wrench my mouth open. The torn tape sticks to my face but I don¡¯t pay any mind to it as I roll myself to the window. Stretching my neck, I bite onto the tape covering the window. Starting from the bottom corner I pull at it viciously, ignoring another strike to the back, until the window is stripped bare. With mad eyes I gaze out at what should have been the outside world. However, what lies beyond the window is the figure of a young girl in a bright room. The room she¡¯s in is filled with swirling shadows of all sorts of shapes. She lies on the tiled floor in pink pajamas that match her hair, writhing in fear as the shadows assault her, relentlessly wrapping around her helplessly frail figure. The shadow take up so much space that I can¡¯t make out anything else in the room. What bothers me about the sight is that I don¡¯t know why the room is so bright. More than anything, I seek the light that seems to be coming from the room. Even though the girl is being tortured by those shadows, and I¡¯m still bleeding and sobbing as I¡¯m being stabbed repeatedly, I yearn for the light that lies somewhere beyond. Controlled by that thought, I smash my face into the window. As the glass shatters and my head comes through the window, the room and the girl burst into light, and I find myself enveloped by the light. The soft hum of the ambient soundtrack reaches my ears as I come to, ripping the glasses off my face. My body curls up in the theater chair and I bury my head in my hands, breathing short, choppy breaths. ¡°It¡¯s okay now, I¡¯ve turned the machine off!¡± The theater room is filled with light. The screen¡¯s gone black and the music has stopped, but I can¡¯t calm my mind. Everything about the dream still feels real, and all I can do is push my head further into the soft theater chair as I sob. ¡°Mary! Answer me, Mary, please!¡± I recognize her voice plainly, but there¡¯s no way I can respond to it. ¡°JC, you have to do something!!¡± ¡°I am! Please just keep holding her!¡± I feel something pierce my neck, but it doesn¡¯t matter. Something within me has snapped. Something that I¡¯ve been fighting off for a long time has filled me up and overflowed. Whatever game this is, I¡¯ve lost. I¡¯m lost within my own head, and there¡¯s no way I can come out now. storm I wake to the sound of a thunder crack loud enough to make my body jump, and immediately recoil, clutching onto soft sheets baring a familiar scent. I shake my head free of the remaining cobwebs weighing me down, triggering a full-on headache that makes me sit up in the bed I¡¯m curled up in. As the sheets slide off my chest to reveal my black suit, I remember it all- the train, the demon, and that horrid dream. Tears fall down my cheeks without warning while thunder rings even louder through the window next to the bed. My shoulders tense when I notice the shadow of a swaying tree branch brushing across the blue carpet, and I finally realize I¡¯m in my own apartment. I reach for my phone just as it rings, along with another roll of thunder. The name on the screen is the last one I want to see, but I answer it immediately anyway. ¡°What is this?¡± I whimper, attempting to steady my shaking head. ¡°Mary, I need you to listen to me,¡± JC says in a hurried voice. ¡°This is your world now. Through the overwhelming nature of your dream, you¡¯ve activated the power of this dreamscape. Please, draw the curtains and look outside.¡± Hand trembling, I pull the curtain aside. What is revealed outside is like the beginning of an apocalyptic movie. The rain pours at a nearly sideways angle while the trees decorating the back property of the upscale apartment complex thrash with the wind. ¡°Wait,¡± I mutter, leaning my forehead against the window, ¡°The leaves on the trees are¡­ blue?¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± JC replies calmly. ¡°It¡¯s the same for me. You see, Mary, that is proof the dreamscape is favoring your dreams. You¡¯ve shaped this world and brought it to the place your dreams belong.¡± ¡°But why¡­ when I¡¯ve given up on facing them?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know about that,¡± he answers firmly. ¡°What I do know is that those trees at your apartment were all multi-colored like the ones we saw earlier, and now they have a bluish tone similar to your hair. To add to that, I¡¯d bet you had just woken up and remembered everything when the storm started, right?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Yes, but,¡± I mutter, numb to the weight his words were meant to hold. ¡°Why am I here?¡± ¡°At your apartment?¡± he asks plainly. ¡°I brought you there while you were unconscious. If you¡¯re wondering why I know where that is, I don¡¯t know. You¡¯d have to ask Aku. Though, I feel I was compelled to bring you there for a reason. Perhaps to make you feel most comfortable, to give you an out.¡± ¡°An out?¡± I ask, sinking into the edge of my bed and pulling the sheets around me. ¡°Well, you have the choice to give up and shut yourself away in the comfort of your own bed,¡± he says in a serious tone. ¡°Or, you can take on this world you¡¯ve shaped- if you still wish to return to your real body, of course.¡± ¡°And if I stay here?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure,¡± he laments. ¡°There is no telling what will become of this world without you to steer it. It could disappear with you if Miss Mirei takes over and wins, but there is also the possibility of her remaining here in this storm if nothing proceeds. And to reiterate, I can¡¯t say what the NPC¡¯s of this world might do, especially if they come to find out who caused this terrible storm.¡± ¡°Mirei¡­¡± I mutter, my eyes flickering as I gaze out upon the torrential storm. ¡°Is there any way to make this right for her? And is there really any meaning in putting us through this?¡± ¡°The answer to that question lies in your own will,¡± JC answers in a soft voice. ¡°I think that if you proceed with Mirei¡¯s interest at heart, or your own, you might find this world worth exploring. And if you are able to overcome your dreams after drowning this world in them, I believe you may find a freedom beyond what you ever imagined possible.¡± ¡°Freedom¡­¡± I mutter with wide eyes while a flurry of lighting obliterates the trees outside and illuminates my face in the window¡¯s reflection. ¡°That¡¯s what I want. More than anything.¡± ¡°Well then, let¡¯s proceed,¡± he replies, more upbeat. ¡°Mirei will be calling you any second now; if you want to proceed to your dream world with her, all you have to do is answer the call.¡± ¡°I want to go with her no matter what,¡± I answer without a second thought. ¡°After all, she did say we should help each other.¡± My phone immediately vibrates, and I look to see the screen¡¯s prompt to answer a call from none other than Mirei. ¡°Well then, Mary, let us proceed to the place your dreams reside in.¡± I press down on the screen, awaiting her cheerful, voice, and everything goes black. onslaught Suddenly, I¡¯m back on the train. Only, the stark white of the interior is gone, and replaced by an antique brown aesthetic. As I fight to keep my hazy eyes open, I notice the paintings on the wall have changed to something resembling family portraits. The lighting is too dim to make out the details beyond a young girl surrounded by a man and woman in one portrait, while the other portraits contain just the girl sitting next to either the man or woman. A sudden pain hits my chest, but my clutched hand fails to reach the breast of my suit. The sound of static roars from my chest pocket and consumes my head as the bearings of my consciousness waver, and I once again shift to another plane. I¡¯m torn away and thrown onto a cold ground. Covered in dirt and bound by rope again, the only thing I note is the sound of a heavy-duty engine. The ropes tighten around my wrists, pulling my weakened body across the dirt. My suit is torn by small rocks as the rope¡¯s momentum increases, and I finally raise my head to see an old pick-up truck on the other end of the rope. I can only see a shadow of the person driving, and there doesn¡¯t seem to be any light or other indication of life around. I¡¯m just being dragged across some dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Recalling JC¡¯s words, I curse him as I try to lift off my elbows and reach a hand to my chest pocket where my phone had been. Instead, the truck accelerates, and I¡¯m slung into the dirt. The rocks pound my body and face, grinding my skin relentlessly as I groan. If this is what he meant by the place my dreams reside in, it¡¯s hopeless. I¡¯m only going to suffer more, and she isn¡¯t even here. Instinct allows me to roll to my back, redirecting the pain, but it¡¯s all I have left in me. I can only sob silently as I¡¯m dragged down this endless dirt path. I stare into the vast night sky, wishing upon the stars that I might become one of them. I know it¡¯s a hapless thought, unwise to my fate- but I have nothing left. It¡¯s a familiar feeling. I suddenly notice my suit has disappeared, replaced by tattered clothes that wear away more with each inch I¡¯m dragged. I can¡¯t see my burning arms, but my thin legs wear blood and bruise enough to match their pain. A quick survey of my slender body reveals fresh stab wounds, seeping blood. An absurd queasiness assaults me, and while I feel blood running down my cheeks and neck my vision grows blurry as if a switch had been flipped. The only sounds are that of my body smearing dirt and rock, and the rhythmic humming of the truck¡¯s motor. The dull motor fills my ears, and its vibrations become my only avenue of sensation. I hum along, hoping through the effort that I might become a vibration myself. Somewhere between the stars and the vibrations I lose myself. All I see is the stars and all I feel are the vibrations- is it okay if I fade away like this? If I can¡¯t die and stop suffering like this, can I at least become a figment of the process, a phantom of the concept, rather than the one suffering?Stolen story; please report. Suddenly my blurred eyes discover something in the distance. A glowing, ghost-like figure chases after the truck, reaching out as if to try and grab a hold of me. The large, burly figure bares no human resemblance, yet feels strangely like home. ¡°You won¡¯t reach me,¡± I mutter in a soft, childlike voice, gazing back toward the stars as I attempt to project my consciousness onto them. ¡°M---y? A distant voice seeps into my ears from beyond the vibrations. ¡°MARY!¡± the desperate girlish voice screams, and the vibrations fade off. Did she manage to break through them? Rather, I don¡¯t know who she is, but she¡¯s interrupted my descent into nothingness. I recall my body and tilt my head back, looking upside-down at the truck. On the dashboard, next to the shadow of the driver, a small square screen displays a white light and the desperate voice. ¡°Mary! Can you hear me? Please, try to answer!¡± That¡¯s right- her name is Mirei. The one who said we should help each other if it gets scary. She might be the only reason worth fighting through this pain for. If I let myself break here, I probably won¡¯t be able to see her meek, earnest smile again. She is the light I seek, the light representing the freedom I¡¯ve always hungered for. I know, now, that I must never let myself lose that freedom again. I fight through gnashed and bloodied teeth against the deadened weakness in my legs and lift myself up. Turning my body, I lift off my elbows and crawl onto my knees. ¡°I¡¯m coming¡­ Mirei.¡± The truck speeds up, punching my momentum. I yell desperately at my legs, urging them to keep up with its pace. My cries succeed as I bring myself to my feet with, and with fumbling steps, I stride after the truck. Raising my speed despite the pain coursing through my legs, I begin to reel in the rope while I shorten the distance. The truck gradually accelerates, but my adrenaline peaks as I focus on the phone¡¯s display. Having cut the distance in half, my legs finally give way and crumple beneath me, only to be torn into by the ground once more. ¡°Mary! Is that you? Can you hear my voice?¡± I hold myself up with the rigid rope, baring through the excruciating pain with blood and tears pouring from my face. Focusing on my arms and torso, I pull myself along with the rope, fighting the dizziness assaulting me. ¡°This isn¡¯t my reality,¡± I cry. ¡°I won¡¯t allow my freedom to be stolen- not anymore!¡± With every ounce of strength I have, I haul myself into the bed of the truck using just my arms. My useless legs flail as I roll my body toward the back window of the truck and smash my elbow through it. Glass rains into the two-seater, and the driver dissipates into a whirl of shadow out the window. I use my arms to pull myself through the window, and lunge for the phone on the dashboard while my torso hangs over the jagged remnants of glass. ¡°Mirei!¡± I shout over my sobs. ¡°Mary, you¡¯re there!¡± she cries. Her angelic voice infiltrates my soul and fills me up, replacing the pain that should be coursing through me. ¡°Mary, are you okay? Can you talk?¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine now,¡± I answer in a soft cry. ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± she shouts emphatically. ¡°You¡¯re the one that¡¯s in danger!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I mutter, nearly forgetting my situation. ¡°Listen, Mary! We only have till the phone call reaches five minutes to talk, okay?¡± I look at the display of our phone call- 4:42. ¡°What happens after that, Mirei?¡± I ask, the catharsis I gained from her voice turning into lethargy. ¡°I don¡¯t know for certain, but JC¡¯s theory is that we can only talk here, in five-minute increments. I think we will return to the dreamscape, separated. If that happens, we can¡¯t reach each other unless we both return to this deeper dream space. We must find each other in the actual dreamscape so we can help each other! You have to reach the phone quickly next time, okay?¡± The display turns from 4:58 to 4:59 while I enjoy the sound of her voice, and at 5:00 my consciousness is overcome by static noise. wavelengths My eyes open once more to the sight of my dark bedroom where there¡¯s only me, curled up against the bed hugging my knees. The heavy rain beating the window puts me at ease as recall my situation. That¡¯s two dreams now, and they¡¯ve both successfully broken my mind. Even though the dread permeating my chest feels like it will cripple me at any moment, I find relief in the calm darkness of the room, and breathe easy. However, I soon grow restless, and desire human contact. The thought of seeing Mirei drives me to my feet, but it¡¯s not only her. The words of the man I cursed in my last dream offer me a shred of hope that I might truly be in control of my fate in this world. After all, I was not consumed. I was broken, but I overcame even that. Something tells me I¡¯ve lived my life that way for some time. The world of my dreams may yet throw more at me, but his words, along with Mirei¡¯s light and my own strength, feel like freedom. Determined to indulge in that freedom, I set out. I recall Mirei¡¯s assertion that we are unable to reach each other in the dreamscape, and only in our deeper dreams. In that case, I should still be able to reach him. Passing through the dark, tidy living area and exiting onto the walkway of the second floor, I withdraw my phone and swiftly dial. ¡°Hello, Mary,¡± he answers in a polite tone. ¡°I was about to call you, but what possessed you to reach out to me first?¡± ¡°I think you owe me some answers, JC,¡± I respond, my tone firm but not hostile. ¡°Certainly,¡± he says. ¡°Like I said before, I do not know everything, but the dreamscape is designed so that we may regain our memories as we progress. Therefore, there are some things that I can explain to help guide you. That is part of my role here, after all.¡± ¡°Do you mind explaining just what your role is, again?¡± I ask, descending the stairs until I reach the flooded ground level, where I stop and remain under the building¡¯s cover as I watch the crushing rain up close. ¡°Yes, like I said before, I am here as a proxy of Aku, to aid you both in maneuvering this very complex and layered dreamscape- with the ultimate goal being the inheritance of Aku¡¯s own power, the very power that created this place.¡± ¡°What about you? What do you get out of it?¡± I respond, shuddering as the storm¡¯s cold air sweeps over me. ¡°I am very committed to my role as Aku¡¯s proxy and your guide, I can assure you that. All my life¡¯s work has led me here. And, I did say this before, but since I am here with you, that does technically make me a participant as well.¡± ¡°But how exactly are you participating?¡± I ask. ¡°Right now, I do not know any more than that,¡± he says, raising his tone to match the rain¡¯s volume. ¡°I think that wherever we go from here is up to the structure of the dreamscape, as well as your ability to navigate the different wavelengths of the dreamscape.¡± ¡°Wavelengths?¡± I ask, covering my idle ear and holding the phone close. ¡°Like the dreams I¡¯ve seen, and this fake real world that I somehow manipulated?¡± ¡°Precisely- you catch on quick, as always. This dreamscape is layered by different waves. You have the fake real world that serves as the foundation for everything, and you also have the deep dream world that you¡¯ve visited twice now.¡± ¡°So, when you say wavelengths, you¡¯re referring to those two separate worlds?¡± ¡°The distance between, rather,¡± he says. ¡°Whether in science or social, wavelength refers to the distance between. For example, if in the real world I approached you at a bar and offered you a drink, and you scoffed at me with that glare of yours, you might say that you and I aren¡¯t on the same wavelength, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d say that¡¯s accurate,¡± I quip, staring as the rain and wind suddenly dies down, leaving a dark, clouded sky. I depart along the flooded sidewalk, ignoring the cold water soaking my boots. ¡°Same goes for you and Miss Mirei,¡± JC continues. ¡°You got along famously from the start, so it¡¯s safe to say you two are on the same wavelength, so to speak. Following that same line of thought, the two of you share a physical wavelength in this dreamscape, one that varies based on your depth in the dream world.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Depth¡­like the original fake world, as opposed to this one I¡¯ve manipulated?¡± ¡°Yes, that white train, and the fake real world can be considered a blank slate, a threshold,¡± he replies. ¡°You could say that we all shared a wavelength there, one with zero distance between; that we existed on an even plane- we truly saw and felt each other¡¯s presence.¡± ¡°And those¡­ NPC¡¯s, you called them- they aren¡¯t on that even plane with us?¡± I remark, looking around the empty street. ¡°Indeed, they do not seem to share our wavelength. They couldn¡¯t see us for who we are, but they did notice our existence.¡± ¡°But as the depth changes, their perception of us changes?¡± I ask, narrowing my gaze as I reach the depths of the city. ¡°That¡¯s why you were so nervous about them¡­¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t be certain, but you could say that,¡± he says with some hesitation. ¡°Then what happened to our wavelengths when I changed the world?¡± I ask, turning into the park that crossed paths with the street that lead to the lab. ¡°As you mentioned, the distance between them grew and perceptions changed. Our even plane became curved, and the three of us were no longer able to share the same wavelength- in effect, the same space.¡± ¡°But why is it I¡¯m able to communicate with you in this world, and not Mirei?¡± ¡°Well, you changed the depth of the world when you created that storm,¡± he answers. ¡°The world bent to the power of your emotions, your dreams, and like I mentioned, our even plane became curved, and we were-¡± ¡°Separated on either side?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he replies softly. ¡°For example, you figured out that you could reach me in this changed world- that must mean that you and I share a wavelength in this world. If I were to draw a diagram, you and I would be two of the crests that make up the curved wave. And Miss Mirei-¡± ¡°She would be the trough.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± he confirms. ¡°She is on the opposite side as us, and therefore does not share a wavelength with us, which is why you cannot reach her here.¡± ¡°And when she and I are both in our deep dream worlds, we share a wavelength while you¡¯re the one left out,¡± I declare, understanding of explanation. ¡°Yes, when you two have traveled to that depth of the world, you are among its crests, while I lie in the trough.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± I mutter, stopping in my tracks. ¡°Then when am I the trough? When did you and her share a wavelength long enough for you to explain things to her?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure,¡± he answers with a relaxed sigh. ¡°But after your collapse at the lab, I was able to reach her and not you, even after you changed the world.¡± ¡°But you brought me to my apartment, didn¡¯t you?¡± I ask as I follow the park trail onto a bridge with a steep incline. ¡°We did,¡± he replies. ¡°But when we laid you in your bed, something strange happened. Miss Mirei and I both fell asleep, and woke up in different places.¡± ¡°Like how I went from my apartment to the train, and then entered my deep dream world.¡± ¡°Similar, yes,¡± he says. ¡°Anyway, I was able to call her twice immediately after, but the call cut off at the five-minute mark both times. Then, I couldn¡¯t get through to her, but I was able to call you. I think that is the moment the world changed.¡± ¡°So, it happened just before I woke up.¡± ¡°Something in your mental and emotional state triggered Aku¡¯s power to change depths, and that¡¯s when the world began to change,¡± he says. ¡°The storm clouds brewed while Miss Mirei and I talked from our respective locations; and when you awoke, your emotions completed the shift. It¡¯s remarkable that you manipulated the world, as well as our own wavelengths.¡± ¡°Then what about those wavelengths?¡± I ask hurriedly. ¡°Can we manipulate them like my mental state shifted the depth of the world? Right now, you and I are able to speak, but can¡¯t we see each other if we somehow force our wavelength to shorten?¡± ¡°I believe so,¡± he answers softly. ¡°Whether it¡¯s Aku¡¯s power allowing you to, or your own strength, I think it¡¯s amazing that you two could talk in your deep dream worlds. If you continue that, even in the five minutes you have in each deep dream, I think it¡¯s possible to bring her to our side of this plane, and shorten your wavelengths.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± I mutter, watching the dark clouds swirl malevolently above. ¡°So, if I have power to change this world and our wavelengths, how would you suppose I can defeat this world of my dreams and gain Aku¡¯s power?¡± ¡°I believe the ultimate goal is to return the three of us, as well as all the depths of the dreamscape, to the even plane, the absolute threshold,¡± he says with certain conviction. ¡°Cut the distance between wavelengths and bring everything back together. I think that would serve as proof of your victory in overcoming your dreams.¡± ¡°But which is stronger?¡± I ask, approaching the peak of the bridge¡¯s incline. ¡°The structure of the dreamscape? Or is it our ability to navigate wavelengths? Which do you think is the true catalyst in changing the world?¡± ¡°As a scientist, I can¡¯t be sure,¡± he answers with a chuckle. ¡°It could be that the structure dictates the wavelengths and is merely forcing you to navigate them involuntarily, or it could be that our emotions and wavelengths hold a more voluntary power over the dreamscape. We are here, after all- and you¡¯ve changed the world with only your emotions, so semantics of causality can certainly be argued.¡± ¡°I¡¯m asking which you¡¯d like to be true,¡± I urge him. ¡°Well, I think it would be more romantic if our wavelengths held more power, of course,¡± he responds, a comfortable effervescence pervading his voice. ¡°We¡¯re the same, then, aren¡¯t we?¡± I declare, smiling as I reach the peak bridge¡¯s peak and stick my hand out. His shocked face appears before me just on the other side. The hand holding his phone drops to his side, and he sprouts an earnest smirk. ¡°Yes, then let¡¯s go and bring Miss Mirei to us, shall we?¡± he says while our hands clasp in firm convention. shelter The moment our hands meet, they¡¯re separated by the distant growl of thunder. We quickly return exit the park and find the nearest street in a shopping district. What few people remain are quickly vacating the area, as the rain starts back up, and crushing winds begin to sweep the area, tossing debris through the street and even throwing several small cars on their backs. ¡°It¡¯s going to be bad if we don¡¯t get indoors soon,¡± JC declares over the heavy rainfall. Frantic, we look around the deserted shopping district, and I spot a familiar coffee shop. I grab a hold of his arm and hurry inside the two-story building. To my shock, there is the person tending the counter with no customers smiling at us as we shake our soaked clothes. She greets us and asks if we¡¯ll be ordering, so we clumsily ask for a couple of black coffees. We take our drinks and climb a winding staircase to the vacant second floor, dripping water all the way. I pick a table near one of the large window panes, and we sit across each other as I take a look at the TV mounted on the wall behind JC. Some news station seems to be reporting on the storm, relaying several flooded areas and accidents. Outside, the sky darkens as the storm worsens, more vehicles tossed around and windows shattered by flying debris. ¡°Do you think we¡¯re safe like this?¡± I ask, watching the storm with a sense of detached concern. ¡°Well, if you feel like we¡¯re not in danger, then we¡¯re probably safe,¡± he answers, wearing a difficult expression. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say that you¡¯re controlling the storm itself, but I think your unconscious control over the world should offer us some protection from the elements.¡± ¡°I honestly find it a bit creepy that I understand that,¡± I reply, taking a sip of my coffee. ¡°It¡¯s no surprise,¡± he says with a grin. ¡°You do seem to have a remarkable ability to adapt to your circumstances.¡± ¡°Thanks, but you¡¯re one to talk,¡± I respond with a furrowed brow. ¡°Have you done all this before, or are you just really well-prepped for this kind of thing?¡± ¡°Oh no,¡± he chuckles in earnest. ¡°I¡¯ve certainly never done this before, that much I know. Though, I can¡¯t honestly recall what preparation I¡¯ve taken, since I¡¯m still piecing my memory together. I guess it¡¯s just like I said before, my whole life has led to this. I suppose I¡¯ve probably trained myself to respond accordingly.¡± ¡°We¡¯re a little different there, then, since I¡¯ve probably only adapted by necessity,¡± I mutter, gazing upon the storm with widening eyes as anxiety comes over me. ¡°I take it you¡¯ve remembered something, or are on the verge?¡± JC asks, holding his cup of coffee with both hands and bearing an upright posture that matches his polite smile. ¡°On the verge, you could say,¡± I reply, avoiding his eyes as my thoughts run wild. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve been here before, and it gives me a bad feeling; like I¡¯m being watched.¡± ¡°I see,¡± he mutters calmly. ¡°Considering our situation, we can¡¯t rule out the possibility of being watched. Perhaps a trip to the deep dream world might help you remember something important. That is, if you think you can stomach it right now.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s not like I can just go back any time I want, right?¡± I ask, staring nervously at my coffee. ¡°Why don¡¯t you try giving Miss Mirei a call?¡± he says, his polite gaze burning through me. ¡°It¡¯s what worked before, at least.¡± ¡°Ah, right,¡± I reply, pulling my phone out before glaring at him. ¡°Can I trust you won¡¯t do anything inappropriate?¡± ¡°Please, do,¡± he answers with an awkward grin. ¡°Your trust actually is important to me.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± I mutter, lifting my shaking hand. The second I hit the call button, I¡¯m swallowed by static. The static noise subsides as I slowly open my eyes. Despite my vision being blurred as if I¡¯d been hit with a bat, I can see leather seats and windows tinted so dark I can¡¯t clearly see outside. The upscale interior and tinted window separating the front and back seat indicate I¡¯m in a limousine or some classy car.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. I try to move, and immediately remember my recurring plight. My arms are tied behind my back once again, and my head feels like it¡¯s full of hot air. My legs are free, but I don¡¯t have the strength to move them- so I can only sit here and hang my head. As I sit quietly and listen to the smooth sound of the car¡¯s engine, several cuts begin to open across my body. As if a switch had been hit, all my wounds agape and begin leaking blood one after another. My arms, ribs, back, legs, forehead, mouth- there¡¯s no doubt about it. All the wounds I¡¯d suffered in the last two dreams have followed me here. How was it that I was able to fight the despair those times? How did I come back from the sense of helplessness? I wonder if it was my own strength, my obsession with securing my freedom. Or maybe it was something else, like the faint light I see through the divider. That¡¯s right. That¡¯s why I came here. To find her. I can¡¯t lift off my feet, so I put all my remaining strength into my upper body, and fall forward, smashing my bleeding forehead into the window. The glass shatters, and I tense my throat as it falls into remnants of the window. The shards of glass cut deep anyway, but I look forward despite the pain. Once again, the driver, no more than a swarm of shadow, flees out the front window, and the phone sitting on its seat blares out. ¡°Mary! Is that you? Are you there? ¡°M¡­hm¡­¡± I struggle to reply through my pierced vocal cords. ¡°You did good finding me so quick! It must have been so hard on you!¡± ¡°You¡¯re¡­.crying¡­¡± ¡°Huh? Oh, I¡¯m fine,¡± she answers, trying to mask her sobs. ¡°It¡¯s you that¡¯s in danger, right?¡± ¡°You¡¯re hurting too, aren¡¯t you?¡± I say with conviction despite my burning throat. ¡°You¡¯re battling your own dreams, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I-it¡¯s not-¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come for you,¡± I interject. ¡°Where are you in the other world?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s really foggy, and I don¡¯t feel like myself,¡± she answers weakly. ¡°I only feel fully awake when I¡¯m here in this room, with the shadows all around me.¡± ¡°A room¡­¡± I mutter weakly, noticing the phone¡¯s display reading 4:10. ¡°It isn¡¯t the same place I¡¯m at in your world,¡± she answers, the fear in her voice growing more prevalent. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve been in some big buildings, and¡­Mary, I feel guilty. I don¡¯t know why, but I feel like something bad is happening because of me.¡± ¡°Something¡­ bad?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she says, unable to hide her sobs. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing but I¡¯ve been kept busy, and I¡¯m scared.¡± ¡°I¡¯m scared too,¡± I answer, the strength in my voice wavering as the car begins to careen off the road. ¡°If it¡¯s too scary, we should help each other, right?¡± ¡°Ah? Oh, that¡¯s right,¡± she answers timidly as I look to see the display at 4:30. ¡°Listen,¡± I reply slowly, my throat finally losing all feeling. ¡°I just remembered something about myself. You see, I became a model so that I could become important enough to be needed. I had to come up with a way to become important enough that I couldn¡¯t be used again.¡± ¡°Used¡­?¡± she asks, horrified. ¡°When I was thirteen, I was kidnapped. I was taken and transported by a bandit group- a bunch of sadistic deviants who made games out of putting me through pain. They couldn¡¯t allow me to die, so I just had to put up with constant torture until I arrived at a hospital. I was put to sleep, and when I woke up, they told me they¡¯d taken half my heart out. I was transported again and set free in Shibuya. I didn¡¯t remember my hometown, my parents or anything- just that I had been used. All I had was what they gave me- a hundred thousand yen and an ID card with an alias, Mary Ogden.¡± ¡°Mary¡­.¡± Mirei finally responds through sobs. ¡°Of course, they warned me not to go to the police. So, I got a small room at a hostel and started researching what I could do to become important and powerful, so that it would be hard for them to ever use me again. Eventually, I became a model. What do you think, Mirei, are you proud of me for digging up those memories?¡± ¡°Mary¡­I¡¯m so, so sorry,¡± she cries. ¡°By the way, my name is actually Mary Reid,¡± Before the crying girl can answer, static noise cuts her off, and I return to the cafe. ¡°Are you okay?¡± JC urges, grasping my limp hand firmly before I regain myself and clutch my chest. After the surge of pain calms, I look up at his worried face. ¡°I¡¯m¡­fine, now. Thanks.¡± ¡°Was it a painful dream?¡± ¡°Yes, it was,¡± I answer, staring at him blankly. ¡°But I remembered everything, thanks to it.¡± ¡°You did?¡± he mutters, jaw agape. Before I could answer, my attention is drawn to the TV screen behind him. The lower-third reads ¡°Famed Model Takes Credit for Natural Disaster¡± while a reporter awkwardly stands on a windy street. ¡°Reports are indicating that a well-known model based in Shibuya has come forward to take credit for the anomaly currently plaguing the prefecture. The true cause is unknown despite analysts¡¯ best efforts, but- oh, it looks like the woman that has reportedly come forth has stepped out of her firm¡¯s building to speak with the public. We¡¯ll be switching over to-¡± Another voice begins shouting over the heavy rain as the scene cuts to a crowded plaza in front of a large building. ¡°I¡¯m here on scene outside the Dansen Emporium, and despite the dangerous rain and wind gusts, a large crowd has formed in hopes of confronting the woman that has taken credit for the anomaly. And now, here she is, stepping onto the building¡¯s forefront.¡± The crowd goes quiet as several men in black suits escort the slender woman who stands tall, her long black hair whipping about. JC looks at me in utter disbelief, while I can¡¯t even process what I¡¯m seeing. ¡°Hello, my name is Mary Reid,¡± she says. I¡¯ve come out here to announce to you all that I have created this storm; and to declare to my enemies who intend to take my freedom away once more- you are now at my mercy.¡± blazen trail ¡°M-Mary, what are you doing on the TV?¡± JC blurts out, dumbfounded. ¡°What the hell,¡± I mutter, trembling as I stare in disbelief at the identical copy of me walking back into the building. ¡°I guess it isn¡¯t impossible,¡± he answers slowly. ¡°It could be your own subconscious creating an opportunity for you to protect yourself.¡± ¡°But that declaration¡­¡± ¡°Right,¡± he mutters, conflicted. ¡°That sounded like a challenge for anyone to come and find you. And that copy just went back inside the safety of that building, while you¡¯re vulnerable.¡± ¡°But anyone that¡¯s after me would be focused on the me in that building, right?¡± I ask, peering out the window warily. ¡°In theory,¡± he answers, staring at the TV. ¡°But she just told all the NPC¡¯s in this world that she, rather you, are responsible for this. Like I¡¯ve mentioned, we can¡¯t predict their reaction. Either way, it¡¯s dangerous for you to be seen by anyone. Perhaps that was actually a declaration of war on you.¡± I look around, trying to organize my thoughts, and realize something. ¡°That hostess downstairs¡­there was a TV down there, right?¡± ¡°Yes, there was,¡± he answers with a fearful expression mirroring mine. ¡°We should leave. Now.¡± I take one last glance outside before hurrying down the stairs into the lobby. The hostess is nowhere to be found, and a reporter on the TV seems to be in a panic. ¡°Just now, from the building¡¯s garage a silver classic car has sped away. We do not know if Mary Reid is in the car, but chaos has ensued regardless. Many are making chase after the car, while much of the crowd are attempting to enter the building. It¡¯s an unprecedented sight, but it seems the winds are pushing the crowd away from the doors, scattering them around the plaza.¡± ¡°This is bad- now she¡¯s turning the mob loose on the city,¡± JC says, grabbing my hand. ¡°Let¡¯s find the back door.¡± We quickly locate the back exit, and run down the back alley. After several turns, we find ourselves in a maze of alleyways. Before turning another corner, I look back to see several suited men and a woman running in our direction. I tug on JC¡¯s hand and a nod, alerting him. He speeds around another corner before clicking his tongue with a frustrated expression. ¡°There¡¯s a few more down the alley we just passed that were casually dressed, so we¡¯ve got your enemy and the NPC¡¯s on our tail,¡± he notes through choppy breaths, focusing on the crossing pathways. Several more groups of people appear from different alleys, forcing us to change direction several times. Finally, we run into a dead end- the back of some production facility. Ten or fifteen NPC¡¯s close in on us as we look around for an escape path. Before they reach us, JC grits his teeth and leads me into up a flight of stairs and kicks in the back door atop the building¡¯s shipping dock. I stagger inside and bend over to catch my breath while he promptly finds a metal rod to jam in the door¡¯s handle, and proceeds to lean against it while surveying the facility. Seeing him relax, I naturally follow- that¡¯s when it hits me. My legs, head, and chest are pounding, aching, and burning all at once. I lift my shaking hands off my knees, a cold sweat seeping down my arms. I¡¯m struggling hard to breathe, and my chest feels like its collapsing from the inside, while a sharp burning sensation comes up my throat. Having gone from the cold rain outside to this stuffy warehouse, my skin crawls, desperate for hydration. Someone begins beating incessantly on the door, and JC snaps his gaze back onto me. ¡°Hey, are you okay? Can you move?¡± he asks, genuinely concerned as he moves away from the door and places a hand on my shoulder. ¡°I¡­I think I¡¯ve dealt with this since the operation,¡± I answer, gasping for air. ¡°Operation?¡± he asks, wide-eyed. ¡°It¡¯s about what I remembered,¡± I reply, my vision blurring as the rapping on the door fills me with nausea. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later, but I need water.¡± Suddenly, my consciousness fades out, drowning out the sounds of incessant beating along with JC¡¯s concerned cries. Without warning I¡¯m thrust into my bed, my back and chest so hot and stiff it¡¯s a struggle to move. I inch myself to the mini fridge beside my bed, take a bottle of cold water, and drink while applying a cold wrap around my ribs. After several minutes I struggle to my feet and withdraw an electrode stimulator from my nightstand, applying it to six points on my back. This allows me to walk into my bathroom, where an ice bath is already prepared. I remove the wrap and stimulator and submerge myself in freezing water with a sigh of relief, helping myself to a warm bottle of tea. After minutes in the ice bath, my body feels relaxed enough to move normally, allowing me to dry off and get dressed. When I look in the mirror, I see what looks like JC¡¯s frantic face amidst the fogged glass. ¡°Living with half a heart, this has become my daily routine,¡± I mutter, unsure if the silent figure in the glass can even see or hear me. ¡°I grew up with a heart condition and a blood and vitamin deficiency, stemming from having weaker circulation than the average person. I had to exert myself at a minimum and perform regular bodily maintenance just to keep up with everyone else.¡± The face in the mirror goes still, as if listening to my story. ¡°And this was only before I was taken, and had half of my heart removed,¡± I continue, staring at the sink. ¡°Since then, it¡¯s been much harder. Because of that, I¡¯ve grown stronger mentally. I know my limits and how to react accordingly. I just need some water, I think. My body doesn¡¯t feel as weak in this world, so I should be able to manage it.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± he says, snapping me out of my dream and bringing me back to the hot floor of the facility where I¡¯ve collapsed. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get to somewhere you can rest, and I¡¯ll look for water. Then we can lose these guys and get back outside.¡± I nod, and he helps me up before leading me down several levels of rickety platforms and stairs. Finally, we reach the main floor of the facility cluttered with roller conveyors and old machinery. The lighting significantly worse down here, JC turns his phone light on and leads the way until we find a forklift parked somewhat out of place against a conveyor and a clutter of metal beams. JC gestures up, before helping me into the elevated cab. ¡°I¡¯ll go find water and get back as quick as I can. Stay here until you hear my voice, okay?¡± He doesn¡¯t wait for an answer before taking off into the dark. I climb to the driver¡¯s seat and try to control my breathing. The busted-out window makes me realize the vehicle had been crashed, as if someone had run into the beams and left it leaning over the conveyor, which barely kept it from falling over. This makes it even harder to breathe as I realize my own panicked movements could cause the forklift to tip over. In addition, I begin to fear that JC left me in here fully aware of this.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. As the panic in my chest reverberates down my arms, I notice several sets of footsteps coming down the stairs, and drawing nearer with every pained breath I take. As the clanking sounds gravitate to me, I realize it¡¯s my labored breaths serving as the beacon. Sweat covers my face, but I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s hot or cold. I manage to muffle my breath, but my shaking limbs are no longer under my control as I watch the black suits closing in around me, pistols drawn. The world that¡¯s supposed to be under my influence has become exactly like my nightmares. Rather, it¡¯s far too similar to what I¡¯ve experienced before. The only difference here is that I don¡¯t know exactly what they want- my freedom, or my life itself. It¡¯s somehow relieving to see their guns and internalize my own end. I¡¯ve been tortured long enough by the thought of endless agony, unable to die yet unable to live freely. So, the thought of a life-or-death situation feels liberating. If I go all-out here, the worst that can happen would be my death. If I die and fail this game, at least Mirei has a chance. And if I live, and conquer this world, it means my freedom. Most importantly, I can¡¯t allow the loss of my freedom again, to be subjugated to the endless cycle of suffering. So that¡¯s it, I decide. I¡¯ll either live free or die. Sorry JC, but I can¡¯t wait for you like a sick child. There¡¯s too much at stake, and I shouldn¡¯t have relied on you to begin with. I calm my frenzied nerves and take hold of my shaking limbs. Grasping hold of the emergency handles above me, I kick at the control panel until the forklift¡¯s weight shifts forward. With a heave, I thrust it downward while the suits attempt to scatter. They act too late, as the lifted forks impale two of them through their backs before grinding into the flooring, creating a trail of sparks amid a pool of blood. Finally, the head of the machine capsizes with the shifting weight, crushing the other two men before they can dive out of the way. Somehow, I manage to keep my grip throughout the falling crash. Despite severe nausea, I¡¯m able to shake the cobwebs from my head and relax my tensed muscles. Thanks to the adrenaline coursing through me due to the crash, I climb out of the sideways machine. The stench of blood coats the air, forcing me to hold my breath. I try to avert my eyes from the maimed corpses, but I need something. Ignoring what smells like burning wires, I dive into the carnage between the forks and retrieve the pistols of the two impaled men from the pool of blood. I suppress vomit, tears filling my eyelids as I flee without another look back. My legs somehow bring me to the end of the assembly line, where a set of bulkheads lead to another section of the building. The slight gap between them suggests JC has gone this way, but I hesitate to follow his path. I look back to see at least ten plainly dressed civilians pouring down the stairs toward me. They either don¡¯t notice or don¡¯t care, but the crashed forklift has erupted into flames, and the blaze is already spreading across the long assembly line. With a gulp, I reluctantly pass through the bulkheads and a spacious well-lit room, before reaching what looks to be the building¡¯s lobby. There few windows offer me a priceless reward in form of the stormy outside world. I gaze longingly out the front window, until a sudden greeting wakes my nerves with a start. ¡°Mary, you¡¯re here!¡± JC¡¯s voice cries out with genuine concern, but I fight against the warm feeling that gives me. Baring my teeth, I raise my trembling hand and point one of the pistols in the direction of the man entering from a branching hallway. ¡°Mary,¡± he says with a look like that of someone betrayed. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°You knew the forklift was on the verge of falling, didn¡¯t you?¡± I press, forcing my facial features to remain tense. ¡°What?¡± he answers weakly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t in the best shape, but what choice did I have? I didn¡¯t think you could go on another second the way you were. What happened? The NPC¡¯s shouldn¡¯t have caught up already. I thought for sure I¡¯d make it back it back in time, I promise. I wasn¡¯t planning on abandoning you, Mary¡­¡± While he continues his uncharacteristic rambling, I finally notice the bottle he¡¯s been holding, and lower the gun. ¡°O-oh,¡± he stammers, frantically outstretching his arm. ¡°See? I got this for you just like I said I would.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­I guess you did,¡± I respond, my brave face falling apart as I drop to my knees. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have doubted you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay, I understand,¡± he says in his usual tone as he rushes to hand me the opened sports drink. I meekly take it and gulp it down, immediately recognizing it as a favorite of mine. The electrolytes wake my brain up, combating the lethargy sweeping over me after losing my adrenaline. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get out of here now,¡± he says with a reassuring voice, pulling my arm over his shoulder and taking the gun from my hand. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just do this in the first place?¡± I mutter as he opens the front door. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he responds awkwardly. ¡°I honestly thought that the only option was to let you rest. I really miscalculated; I know that¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay, I guess,¡± I mumble, averting my gaze. The booming chaos of the storm fills my ears as we return to the outside world, dark clouds than before swirling overhead. Rain pounds us as we walk beyond the building¡¯s cover. Several groups of people are approaching from either side of the street. We exchange brief glances before raising our respective pistols in either direction. The groups both hesitate, but don¡¯t seem to have any intention of fleeing. For a moment we stand in silence, and before either of us can make a move, a car races down the street toward us. The striking silver classic car comes to a skidding stop right in front of us, and the doors are flung open. Without hesitation, we turn our guns on the open doors and fire repeatedly. Expecting to find more bloodied suits, I¡¯m left in shock when several shadows dissipate into the rain. ¡°Those things...¡± JC mutters while catching his breath, gripping my arm tightly to combat the blistering wind. ¡°They¡¯re the same as in the deep dream world,¡± I respond, struggling to breathe again. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± he cries, rushing me into the backseat and diving into the driver¡¯s seat before the mob of NPC¡¯s can close in. The tires spin rapidly as he throws the car into drive and takes off. As he accelerates, he bowls over several of the NPC¡¯s who¡¯d run into the street. Keeping composed, he maneuvers the car down the road at breakneck speed while I hunch over, nursing my drink. ¡°Now you understand what I meant about the NPCs¡¯ volatility, don¡¯t you?¡± he says in a confident tone. ¡°Yeah, I do,¡± I answer, ¡°but the suits, and the shadows¡­we can¡¯t exactly call them the same thing, can we?¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says, ¡°it¡¯s frightening to think that something that fantastical has transcended the wavelengths¡­ I honestly have no idea whether that¡¯s the nature of your world at play, the dreamscape, or something else entirely.¡± Suddenly, a loud booming sound bellows from behind. Despite having almost no strength left, I whirl around in my seat to see the building we¡¯d just left explode into a conflagration of smoke and flames. At that moment, the car¡¯s radio connects, and a voice comes through channels of static. ¡°Breaking news! A production plant to the east of the Dansen Emporium, has just gone up in flames! Again, that¡¯s a plant to the east of the Emporium, the direction the silver car assumed to contain Mary Reid, was last headed. There¡¯s no information on the cause of the explosion, yet. No excessive lightning has been reported in the area. As this could likely be a case of arson, we advise everyone to be on the lookout for the silver classic car that was seen leaving the Shibutani Group¡¯s Dansen Emporium just several moments ago.¡± ¡°Dammit¡­ who are these bastards?¡± I ask, staring as the fire spreads to the entire block, creating a hellish contrast to the dark sky. ¡°Seems like their plan was to get us in this car,¡± JC replies, failing to mask the panic in his voice. ¡°Yeah, clearly a ploy to direct the entire city¡¯s attention on us,¡± I reply, clenching my fists around the now empty bottle. ¡°Either that, or they really want to direct attention away from the Dansen Emporium,¡± he replies. ¡°Or both¡­¡± ¡°Hm,¡± JC drones, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. ¡°But this Shibutani Group¡­ I suppose the Dansen Emporium is a subsidiary of their company. The name sounds oddly familiar. ¡°I feel like I know the name from somewhere too, now that you mention it,¡± I respond, frowning. ¡°No matter who they are,¡± he says, ¡°they¡¯re obviously pulling the strings on this fake you, and they¡¯re also connected to those shadows. I don¡¯t know what that means, but we need to be careful. This world is throwing everything imaginable at you, Mary, and it seems like it¡¯s sink or swim from here on out.¡± ¡°And we¡¯re going to swim right through to the end of it,¡± I mutter, dropping the bottle and clasping my hands together with conviction. Right then, my phone vibrates. My heart leaps and I hurriedly retrieve it, but the display betrays my hopes. Instead of her, a string of text messages from a random number comes. You shouldn¡¯t be so careless with your life, you know? Preferring death over being taken captive is foolish and selfish. Your heart is connected to mine, so if you die, I will too. I know that might sound fine to you, but it shouldn¡¯t. I¡¯m not anymore fake than you are, so if either of us dies it¡¯s over. You understand? We must coexist here. That¡¯s the curse we were placed with when our heart was separated. So, stop fighting and let them take you. We¡¯ll win if we become one. That¡¯s what you¡¯ve wanted, isn¡¯t it? To become whole¡­ The phone falls from my hands and bounces next to the bottle on the floorboard as I clutch my chest and my breathing comes to an abrupt halt. eye of the storm I wake within my dream world. My consciousness is hazy, and I feel pain coursing throughout my entire body. I¡¯m being pulled out of the crashed car by my arm. The hand pulling me isn¡¯t gentle or careful at all, and I¡¯m thrown into the ditch where the car had crashed. My vision is blurry, and I can¡¯t remove the haze from my head. My consciousness withers as I¡¯m picked up and carried down a short road leading to a large Japanese-style mansion. The name spelled out at the crest of the black stone archway leading to the front door stirs my memory. Shibutani: the name of the influential organization that took interest in my weakened heart, and stole my freedom from me. Dread wells within as I¡¯m taken inside the mansion, the door slamming shut behind me. I can¡¯t make out much other than the velvet carpet and blood red walls, and the black suits of the men carrying me. The sweet melody of a piano echoes throughout the mansion¡¯s halls, a stark melancholy blooming from its slow and rhythmic key strokes. I¡¯m beginning to feel numb to the wounds that continue to open throughout my body thanks in part to the serene soundwaves, and in my lethargy a pool of thoughts swirl. How many times must I repeat this cycle? Is there any point in continuing to struggle, only to end up at their mercy? If I¡¯m going to be bound by these shackles forever, wouldn¡¯t it be normal to give up on becoming free? How many times have I overcome and moved forward, only to have them relentlessly torment me and remind me of this unending dread? I can¡¯t justify fighting anymore. My dreams have convinced me of something I was always afraid to admit to myself: I¡¯ll never be free. No matter how important I become, they will come for me when the rest of my heart is needed. That¡¯s what this is all about, after all. My heart has been held captive ever since they first took me. Even if they let me taste freedom, they never truly let me go. I¡¯ve lived a farce of a life, trying to fit in with the normal people; though in reality, I¡¯m just a doll pretending to be human for as long as I can, under their watchful eye. A doll that overstayed its welcome and revolted against my fate just to feel human for a little longer. Just a little longer, okay? You can have me once I¡¯m satisfied with living a lie. That¡¯s what this dream world is, isn¡¯t it? Just a vehicle of sweet ecstasy I latched onto so that I can drag things out just a little longer. Really, just a little longer, okay? Long enough to see her one last time, or at least hear her voice. They can have me after that, I promise. I¡¯ll let myself become nothingness if I can have that one pleasure. The fake me can have her way; just let me overcome this wavelength and talk to her for a bit longer- be with her for a bit longer. ¡°Mary.¡± Is that a voice? It surely resembles a voice, carrying like a reverberation in the same dull soundwaves coming from the piano. ¡°Mary, I¡¯m so afraid of dying. There¡¯s nothing I¡¯m more afraid of.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. The voice has a familiar ring to it, its tender tone cutting through the pool of dread filling my mind. ¡°You¡¯ve been fighting for so long, and here I am doing nothing more than praying that I might live, hiding from my demons.¡± The piano¡¯s beautiful voice rouses me from my virtual brain-death, but the suits aren¡¯t reacting to it at all. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about finding me anymore, okay? You¡¯ve struggled more than you had to because of me, but you don¡¯t have to do anything but find your heart now, right?¡± Her voice pierces my soul, a requiem of sweet encouragement made to heal all my ailments. ¡°You¡¯ve wanted to become whole and live freely, right? I want that for you, too. Then, perhaps I can be found where your heart is.¡± Once more, her light fills me with warmth that sooths me and relieves me of the cold, hollow dread that had consumed me. How many times has she saved me? I have a feeling it¡¯s been more times than I can count. ¡°So, go get your heart back, and I¡¯ll see you after that, okay?¡± I feel the life returning to my limbs, as if a tide of energy has jolted through me; I look down at the suits carrying me, as if they¡¯re ants who¡¯ve stubbornly hauled off more than they can handle. ¡°Fight just a little bit longer, okay?¡± How many times must I repeat this? This is the last time. I just need to fight a little longer. After that, I¡¯ll be satisfied. I¡¯ll accept my fate head-on. I won¡¯t live in fear anymore. The suits dissipate around me as I land out of a spinning kick. The carpet feels snug on my bare feet, and the archaic hallway design comes into full focus. With it, the path of the piano¡¯s melody opens to me, and I follow it to a door. As I open it, static swarms me, and I return to the backseat of the car JC is swerving around mercilessly. Only a light rain is falling now. Dark clouds swirl overhead, an orange glare reflecting off the opaque gray from the fire raging through the industrial district. I glance at my phone which lies face down on the floorboard. My hand mechanically moves toward it before I pull it back. ¡°Hey! Were you in the deep dream world? Did you see Mirei? Do you know where she is?¡± JC¡¯s impatient voice urges upon noticing my movement, but it just worsens my headache. ¡°Give it a rest. I didn¡¯t see her, but I know where I need to go.¡± ¡°You do?¡± he asks, turning all the way around in his seat. ¡°Hey, keep your bug eyes on the road, will you?¡± I chide with a glare. ¡°Right- but you know where Mirei is, then?¡± he asks, turning reluctantly. ¡°Listen, the other me has half of my heart,¡± I answer seriously. ¡°The half that this Shibutani Group took from me. She wants me to meet her, and I think I should do it. I¡¯ll get my heart back and have the strength to find Mirei and end all of this.¡± ¡°What?¡± he shouts in a panic. ¡°You want to rush into the enemy headquarters with just the two of us? That¡¯s crazy! We should go back to the lab and try to find her with the dream manipulator! You¡¯ve surely shortened your wavelength enough to find her more easily, so maybe you can bring her back from there!¡± ¡°JC, this is the answer I¡¯ve reached,¡± I respond calmly. ¡°What answer?¡± he cries, turning back again with a desperate expression to match his pleas. ¡°I told you the surest path to victory is to bring us all back to an even plane, right? I don¡¯t know about this business with your heart, but you¡¯re just running straight into the trap the dreamscape set for you!¡± ¡°I think you know this is the only answer,¡± I respond firmly. ¡°Otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t still be in front of me here, would you? That¡¯s what it means to be on the same wavelength, right?¡± He sees the determination in my stare and clicks his tongue while turning back to face the road. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll bring you there, but it¡¯s going to be up to you to make sure we don¡¯t both get killed.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have a plan,¡± I reply with a smirk. ¡°It just so happens that risking my life is our best course of attack, so we¡¯ll live because we¡¯re willing to be risk our lives.¡± JC turns his face, having gone pale, and blinks at me with fearful skepticism. I only broaden my smirk in response. ¡°It¡¯s time for me to show Aku my victory.¡± confrontation JC¡¯s response is begrudging, yet swift. His focus kicks into high-gear, and he races through the city, swerving around to avoid the few cars making chase. The storm continues to unfurl as strings of lightning scatter the dark sky and torrential rain pours in every direction due to the relentless winds. I do my best to stay calm and keep my throbbing heart from failing. My body feels numb with adrenaline- or perhaps it¡¯s the power of the dreamscape. Either way, a strong emotion sweeps over me, sending my heart aflutter with relief. As JC turns down a wide street and I see the thirty-story business building surrounded by a mob of people, a soft smile breaks out on my face despite the scene of chaos. ¡°You know¡­¡± I mutter softly. I¡¯ve never felt so alive in my life.¡± ¡°Really?¡± JC remarks, gazing at me in the rearview mirror with a raised brow as he accelerates toward the crowd. ¡°I¡¯ll save the explanation for after we¡¯ve found my heart and Mirei,¡± I respond, my soft expression turning rigid as the crowd takes notice of us. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± JC declares, smiling as he jerks the wheel and pulls the hand-break, sending the car into a horizontal drift. The crowd disperses, opening a path for the car to screech to a stop just in front of the building¡¯s base. I hop out of the car and thump my palm on its roof. JC peels out as I run to the railing and climb onto the building¡¯s empty forefront. The crowd is in a panic, but several are beginning to recognize me. They¡¯re staying clear only due to JC making circles with the car, creating billows of smoke around him. I need to stay calm and wait, but more of the NPC¡¯s are noticing me. I look over the building¡¯s entrance and confirm its secure doors, black suits guarding the entrance from inside. The plexiglass windows aren¡¯t something I can break, which is why I¡¯ll have to hope our haphazard plan works out. Leaning over the railing, I spot the two cars that had been making chase. They¡¯re coming straight for the short wall underneath the railing, their speed only increasing as they fly through the crowd toward me. If I move now, it might not work. I must wait as long as possible. Just as they veer around JC¡¯s circus act, I dive to the side. The first car slams into the wall and contorts at an angle. The second car follows suit in a skid, crashing sideways into the first vehicle. It rolls over the top of the first car, and soars through the air-until it crashes viciously into the plexiglass window. I waste no time in rushing in, traversing the shattered glass and a pool of blood where the black suits had been. I hear footsteps coming from the north corner of the building where a hallway leads out of sight. Behind me, I hear the furious mob rushing up the patio, which stops me from making a run for the elevators lining the west wall. With no other choice, I dash behind the crashed car, which had landed on its roof. Steam rises around it, and I smell what can only be gas. Still, I must stay here for the moment. I peer over the car as the mob rushes In, searching for me. Instead, they meet a group of some twenty suits that had come from the hallway. The men draw their guns, which only exacerbates the crowd. A pandemonium of gunfire ensues as the crowd relentlessly rushes them. Sensing my chance, I leap out from the car just as a fire begins to spark. As I run along the back of the crowd, covering my head, the car bursts into flames. Much of the crowd turns at the spectacle, but the suits don¡¯t stop shooting. I, too, carry on, and find a young woman¡¯s body laying limp in my path. She¡¯s wearing a dark gray jacket with a hood, and a small knife rests in her open hand. I wrestle the jacket off her dead body, and snatch the knife, offering a silent apology as her body falls back to the floor. The hood is over my head before another second passes, and I scale the back of the crowd with ease. I crane my neck once I reach the far side of the room, where the front lines of the group had been scattered wide by the endless assault, blocking my path to the elevators. I try to blend in by holding my knife aggressively, spurring on those in front of me. After a few more seconds, the front lines of the group finally reach the first volley of suits, allowing others to close in around the rest. The people blocking the elevators also rush in- the opening I need. With haste I go to the wall, press the button, and slide into the door as soon as it opens wide enough for my slender body. I immediately beat the close button until the door begins to close. Several people nearby notice the door, and rush over with a crazed look. I keep pounding on the close button as if it will make the door shut faster, and it closes just as two people slam into its outside. Instinctively, I select the topmost floor, and the elevator begins lifting me up. I beg it to move quickly since they noticed me, and still have the other three elevators. Given the display on the outside, they¡¯ll also see which floor I¡¯m going to- so I have to be quick. As I reach the top and the door glides open, my prayers are met. Standing before me in the hallway is none other than the other me. Around her are three suits who immediately draw their guns, but I¡¯m already prepared. I fire off three shots at the suits while dashing ahead. The men dissipate into a swarm of shadow and vanish. Two of their shots, however, meet their mark. My shoulder is hit directly, and my rib is badly grazed, enough to drop me. I struggle to one knee, teeth clenched. The fake me is steps away, looking down at me with a smirk. ¡°I hoped you¡¯d come, but I didn¡¯t expect you to cause such a scene, you know?¡± Her soft voice sounds too polite to be me. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t come to chat,¡± I reply, scowling. ¡°This is game over. I just want my heart back.¡± ¡°Oh, and how exactly will you get it?¡± she scoffs. ¡°It¡¯s deep inside me, and I¡¯m afraid you might not have the strength necessary to take it back. So, you should just let me handle things from here.¡± She extends her hand and forms a polite smile, but it¡¯s so fake it sickens me. ¡°I¡¯m not as weak as you think,¡± I respond, slowly rising to my feet. ¡°If you¡¯re the half of me that I left behind, then you have no idea how strong I¡¯ve become; so, don¡¯t get carried away. You only have half of my heart¡­not all of it!¡± I grasp her hand and use it to thrust my body toward her. She doesn¡¯t have any time to react and can only watch, eyes wide as the knife in my other hand sinks into her left breast.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The world immediately distorts as I stab her, and a low-pitched boom fills the space. I fall into her as the world distorts, and everything becomes a blur- yet I hold the knife firm. As the sound of static overwhelms the deep booming, a faint whisper reaches my ear. ¡°If that¡¯s your choice, I hope you¡¯ll surprise us both. Please, come and take me, Mary.¡± The static ceases when I open my eyes and release my throbbing head from my hands. The red carpeted hallway spirals abnormally, and I can¡¯t tell the difference between floor and ceiling. I try to fight the dysphoria and walk, but nearly collapses as, once again, wounds open throughout my body. I grasp my bloody chest, and feel my heart, its beats reverberating prominently in my ears. It feels tight, but I can¡¯t help but feel a certain excitement within the rapid beats. Rather, it is pounding with excitement. Not only that, but the sound I¡¯m hearing isn¡¯t my heartbeat. Or perhaps it is, but it¡¯s beating in tandem with something beautiful. The soft strokes of a piano¡¯s key fill me up, clearing my head and allowing me to walk despite the pain. I only have to reach the door in front of me. The hallway isn¡¯t as long as it had seemed, and the piano¡¯s melody draws me in. Its sweet sound numbs my bleeding limbs and sooths my hoarse cough. I reach for the door and open it with haste, and perhaps desperation. On the other side, I can just make out the figure of the one I¡¯ve been wanting to see ¡°You came,¡± she mutters, her reddened eyes wide with shock. A flurry of shadows dissipate around her and escape out the open door, allowing the few lights in the room to illuminate her meek figure sitting at the piano in pink pajamas. ¡°I was looking for you all this time,¡± I declare, exhaling in relief. ¡°But, why?¡± she asks, rising to her feet. ¡°Didn¡¯t you want to get your heart back, and win?¡± ¡°I had a feeling I would find you in the place my heart was- and it looks like I was right.¡± ¡°How did you¡­¡± she mutters, blinking at me. ¡°There were several reasons,¡± I respond, gazing sternly at her. ¡°The most important being our agreement. We promised we would help each other if things got too difficult, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ right,¡± she says, tears brimming. ¡°When you said you felt guilty about what you were causing, and that you were most afraid of dying, I began to realize,¡± I drone, hardening my gaze. She winces anxiously, her watery eyes fluttering away from mine. ¡°Once I discovered the possibility, I wanted to think you had no idea what you were doing, that you were only aware that something was happening while your consciousness remained here in the deep dream world. I¡¯m not so sure about that now, but why else would you have told me all those things, if you hadn¡¯t wanted to keep our promise? You wanted to work together, right?¡± She can only nod her trembling head, the tears falling silently down her cheeks. ¡°Then, tell me, Mirei,¡± I demand, my voice quivering with emotion. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. Tell me how you created the fake me and controlled it from here.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± she stammers through half-sobs, ¡°I really don¡¯t know how it started; I just remember being picked up by the Shibutani group after we separated. I told them how scared I was, and that I wanted to be stronger and defeat you and your dreamworld. After that, I¡¯ve spent all my time here. It was probably after you told me about your past that the fake was created, or maybe that was when she first acted, but I didn¡¯t realize it right away. I was subconsciously controlling her, I think. It¡¯s true¡­ I betrayed you, Mary.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± I ask plainly. ¡°Weren¡¯t you being tormented by those shadows the whole time?¡± ¡°¡­yeah,¡± she replies weakly. ¡°They were suffocating me, forcing me to play the piano. I think that was how I controlled the fake, somehow.¡± ¡°It also led me to you, though,¡± I respond, stepping forward. ¡°Are you going to destroy me like you destroyed the fake?¡± she asks, shoulders quaking. ¡°I deserve it, so it¡¯s okay. Take back your heart, and get out of this place, okay?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m doing,¡± I respond firmly. She instinctively shies away from my advance. However, when I grasp onto her shaking hand, her eyes dart to mine, wide with shock. ¡°Mary?¡± ¡°I feel like I already have my heart back,¡± I say gently. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for betraying me to save yourself. It was scary for you, and we simply weren¡¯t on the same wavelength.¡± ¡°But-¡± ¡°We are now, so I¡¯m taking you out of here with me,¡± I declare with certainty. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asks meekly, still wearing a desperate expression. ¡°Yeah, this is my world- didn¡¯t you know?¡± I respond, smiling fiercely. ¡°O-okay,¡± she mutters with a nod, allowing me to pull her by the hand out of the room and down the distorted hallway. The blaring noise returns as we suddenly fall to the floor of the Danson Emporium¡¯s thirtieth story. Mirei looks around, panicked. I take her by the hand and lift her to her feet. ¡°Ah, Mary!¡± she cries as I drag her into the elevator. As I slam the close button, I hear the other elevators opening. ¡°Looks like I wasn¡¯t in there too long,¡± I remark, watching the NPC¡¯s swarm into the hallway, some looking back at me and running only to slam into the closing door. ¡°Listen, Mirei,¡± I say as I grasp her shoulders. ¡°All hell is breaking loose in this place. We have to run as fast as we can to JC, okay?¡± ¡°Ah, okay,¡± she stammers in reply, looking in horror at my bleeding flank and shoulder. ¡°But, are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, don¡¯t worry,¡± I respond sternly. ¡°This is my world, how could one or two bullets stop me?¡± ¡°Alright then,¡± she mutters with a half-smile. ¡°I¡¯m ready, Mary.¡± The elevator door opens, and the scene before us is worse than I¡¯d expected. The large lobby is almost entirely engulfed in flames, save for the section of the building we¡¯re in. The barrage of gunshots is still clapping around the room, and many of the NPC¡¯s are finally beginning to flee. The suits stand within the flames, along with a few dozen NPC¡¯s who use others¡¯ bodies as shields in their desperate attempt to reach the suits. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I whisper frantically, taking her hand once more. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± she replies, peeling her eyes away from the horrendous scene. We run along the glass wall toward the broken entrance. Thanks to the flames, nobody¡¯s noticing us. Everyone¡¯s too busy either trying to flee to safety or fight the suits. Several of them stagger out of the building ahead of us, engulfed in flames and shouting maniacally. I feel Mirei¡¯s fear when she tightens her grip on my hand, and within me something tightens. This can¡¯t happen right now. My heart cannot fail me at a time like this. Like before, everything is tightening and going numb, but not the same numbness I¡¯d felt earlier. This is a more debilitating numbness. I need to stop and rest to control my heartrate when this happens, or else my limbs lose circulation and shut down, among other things. Still, there¡¯s no way I can stop here. The exit is just ahead. I grit my teeth and spur my stiffened legs on. Mirei seems to have noticed, as she¡¯s quietly taken the lead. I can¡¯t see her face, but her figure as she leads us out into the storm, looks majestic to me. How many times has she saved me? I push myself onward, and we descend the front steps. Countless NPC¡¯s are running from the building in flames, causing the remnants outside to flee the scene. The classic car containing JC ceases its circling and accelerates toward us. It comes to a stop, and the back doors are flung open from inside. The passenger window rolls down, and JC cranes his neck at us, wearing an expression that stirs something within me. ¡°Why are you here, Mirei?¡± he shouts in disbelief before looking frantically at the scattered NPC¡¯s. ¡°Never mind, just get in!¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± Mirei replies, skirting around the back of the car and diving into the backseat. I follow suit, bending down as a sweet relief sweeps over me. That relief, however, is followed by a heavy ringing. The distinct toll of a single church bell reverberates overwhelmingly. Once more, the wounds from the deep dream world open up throughout my body, and I collapse into the backseat of the car, clutching my chest. JC and Mirei cry out, but I can¡¯t hear their voices over the toll of the bell. Wherever it¡¯s coming from, it¡¯s indiscriminately pushing all else out of the world in favor of its rhythmic toll. My vision becomes a blur, and an acute pain I¡¯ve never felt courses through my chest and arms. A weak breath escapes my lips, one that I can¡¯t take back in. deadline I¡¯ve left my body to fade into the desolate scenery. The storm has brought judgement upon the city, covered it in flames and broken it down to a more natural state. No cars or people inhabit the streets; no lights illuminate buildings or pollute the apocalyptic sky. It¡¯s like the city itself has become free to live on without constraint. So, too, have I. I¡¯m free to observe the destruction I¡¯ve caused by changing the world with my dreams, my heart, and my emotions. The city reminds me of myself, and the dream I¡¯ve sought all along. It¡¯s likely I was never aware of what my dream truly was. I was so caught up in escaping the nightmare that was my reality, that I never allowed myself to visualize a light at the end of the tunnel. Until now, the city and I have both run on a strict schedule of operation. As the sun rises, the city awakens with the daily hustle and bustle of commuter traffic, business, and ultimately, society¡¯s idealistic pursuit of happiness. A brief respite is had once the sun comes down, in which quotas of resting and recharging must be met by every member of society. I myself have been a component of this city¡¯s environment, a fixture built and directed by the demand of others and by the environment itself. My childhood was stolen from me when I was kidnapped and shipped overseas. The memories of my parents and the rural town I lived in have long-since been warped to the point I no longer see those images as anything more than flip-book of proof to serve the supposition that I was once a genuine human. I was tortured, toyed with, and kept concealed to the world and all concepts of living, so it didn¡¯t take me long to lose all value of self and forget what it is to feel peace or pleasure. By the time I¡¯d reached Shibuya and undergone the procedure to remove half of my heart, I was already a slave to the desires of others- so when I was released and told to stay put and simply exist, I did it without any thought. That day, as I sat in my hostel researching modeling, I deliberately inserted myself into the cycle. It wasn¡¯t like I ever wanted to be a model. The Shibutani Group told me I needed to live a normal person¡¯s life, and I did exactly as they told me. I¡¯d thought that my decision had been a rebellious act against them, that I was going to become famous enough to ensure my preclusion from being used by them again. Instead, I let my fear control my every move, and lived each moment of my life by a strict schedule, under the agenda of elevating my status to a place of importance. I sought to fit a mold and live by that mold, in order to obtain my freedom. But I wasn¡¯t ever free, only seeking acceptance into society''s ever-turning wheel. I never sought to free myself from my situation, only to adapt to it. I never thought to set the world ablaze or create a storm so big my enemies would not dare pursue me further. I thought that becoming a famous model would protect me by making them think twice about taking the rest of my heart once they determined it necessary. Logically speaking, it wasn¡¯t a bad idea. It might have even worked for years, but it was never going to grant me true freedom. It¡¯s my own fault for not realizing what true freedom meant. I allowed my pitiably conditioned youth to foster an idea of freedom that merely fell in line with the perpetual cycle of society¡¯s pursuit of happiness. Now I understand that true freedom does not lie in that pursuit of happiness- at least not for me. What I truly sought was to be unbound. Free from the monotony of life and its constant cycles of pain and relief. Perhaps the most pitiable thing is that I obtained this dream when I was tortured until I didn¡¯t want to be me anymore- but that is the place my dream was born, and where my freedom was shaped. That¡¯s why I created this storm. To free my world of monotony, of the endless cycle I¡¯ve grown so tired of. So that I won¡¯t have to fight as a matter of course, knowing the fight will result in more pain and suffering. This way, I can fade into nature, and enjoy true freedom, unbound to my reality. It¡¯s no wonder I wanted to become nothingness in my dreams, and even resolved myself to die before being taken captive. It¡¯s what I truly wanted all along.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Yet, if I can achieve this level of peace by fading away¡­is there something more? Because of this storm I created, I made the first real friends of my life. Is something even more wonderful possible? If I were to gain Aku¡¯s power and return to the real world with this understanding of myself, could I achieve an even greater freedom? Even if I can¡¯t, I can simply return to nothingness. But, if I can, there¡¯s no limit to how great I can dream. Therefore, the only answer is to fight a little longer. I force my eyes open and my body upright. Mirei, who had been sobbing over me, shrinks back in shock. JC loses focus on the road and nearly wrecks the car, his jaw agape. ¡°Mary, how?¡± Mirei mutters in a low quiver, eyeing me with fearful eyes. ¡°I just¡­ watched you die.¡± ¡°It¡¯s my world, don¡¯t you remember?¡± I remark, the words coming out effortlessly despite the many wounds my body has suffered. ¡°When you die in a dream, you wake up, right? It might be that I woke up in full control of my world.¡± ¡°I never would have though this could be possible,¡± JC exclaims, glancing back in wonder. ¡°Mary, you¡¯re living in a dead body.¡± I observe my pale skin. My wounds no longer bleed, and I have no pulse. I feel a certain numbness throughout my body, rather than any pain or other sensation. I¡¯m not breathing, simply because I have no need to. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I answer, my words flowing out like wind. ¡°I have everything I need, now.¡± JC does his best to focus despite his disbelief, while Mirei sobs silently, avoiding my gaze. ¡°Where are we going, JC?¡± I ask, paying no mind to her distress. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± JC answers, bringing the car to a stop. ¡°Let¡¯s go, there isn¡¯t any time to waste.¡± I step out of the car into the raging storm. Before us lies the same station we disembarked at. ¡°Why here?¡± I ask loudly over the hammering rainfall. ¡°I think that the only way to obtain Aku¡¯s power, now that you¡¯ve connected our wavelengths and taken hold of your world, is to return to the where it all started,¡± JC replies as the rain smothers him. ¡°Alright,¡± I answer, glancing at Mirei. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she answers with a meek smile and a hesitant nod. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± My body that shouldn¡¯t move charges ahead. There are no nervous signals sent from my brain to my limbs, only my desire to push my broken body forward. The pain I feel is not like anything I¡¯ve felt while living. It¡¯s a cold, stiff pain only comparable to the re-education my body underwent while rehabilitating after the procedure. However, this is on an entirely different level. Yet I take their hands and drive ahead, through the crushing winds and flying debris. We make it inside the station, and scale the escalators leading to the railway. The train comes into view as we step out from the cover, exposing us to the storm once more. In front of the train, a crowd of people are fighting desperately to enter the train. Once they notice me, half of them flood toward us. I charge into the chaos, pulling JC and Mirei despite their hesitance. As I will my deadened body to move, I call upon my storm, as if it¡¯s simply another of my limbs. Wind and lightning collide in a tornado born of my own emotions and sweep the NPC¡¯s out of our path. Channeling the lightning and wind, I keep JC and Mirei safe from its effects. There is a pain signaling through my transformed consciousness, as if I¡¯m overusing my muscles. A pain that, had I still inhabited my living body, would have debilitated me. However, I accept the pain and move forward with certainty. The path ahead opens, and the train¡¯s entrance door comes into view. I kick the iron door inward, where it disappears into the great white light we¡¯d stepped through before. I shift my gaze to JC, who nods reassuringly, and then to Mirei, who smiles her sweet, genuine smile. My feet pass through the entrance, and we fall into the white light, together. My consciousness shifts anew as the feeling of infinite control leaves me. I struggle to open my weary eyes, but a distinct burning sensation tells me it¡¯s been too long since I last opened them. Only a blurry sight comes into shape. A thin hand protrudes from a pink sleeve, hanging off the side of a bed. I instinctively move my hand toward it, but the stiffness in my palm indicates it¡¯s been too long for that as well. I move it nonetheless, toward the hand that¡¯s so close. I feel an overwhelming urge to touch it, and just as my finger makes contact, everything fades to black. ¡°I offer you this small prize, as an acknowledgement of your sincere display of strength,¡± a stern voice resounds in the void. ¡°You did everything in your power to overcome yourself and take control of your world. However, you failed at making yourself whole. You couldn¡¯t see the truth you needed to see, nor take the actions necessary to become the absolute victor.¡± ¡°I¡­.¡± ¡°You lost your chance, Mary,¡± his gradually fading voice blocks mine out. ¡°However, it is not over yet. You still have a role to serve in this world.¡± My ears twitch to the sound of an engine puffing rhythmically, and I open my damp eyes. A certain empty feeling hangs over me as I look upon my open palms before slowly turning my head, my gaze settling upon a familiar sight. On the other end of the velvet red couch, an outstandingly pretty pink-haired girl begins to stir from her deep sleep, her eyes falling on mine as she opens her mouth. "Um, do you... know where we are?" non-stop My heavy eyelids peel open, enchanted by a bright fluorescent light and a warm, buzzing sensation coming from my hand. The moment my eyes open, however, the light is gone. Instead, I¡¯m sitting in an unfamiliar white room resembling a train compartment. Someone I don¡¯t recognize sits on the other side of the couch. The slender, beautiful girl with long black hair stares at me with a concerned look. "Um, do you... know where we are?" Her face goes white at my words, fear permeating her expression. A bone-chilling breath leaves her lips and her wide eyes gloss over as she clasps a hand over her heart. ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡± she asks, voice trembling. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but do I know you?¡± I respond with an awkward laugh, taken aback by her shock. ¡°It seems I have a case of amnesia, because I can¡¯t really remember anyth-¡± ¡°Mirei, it¡¯s me, Mary,¡± she pleas, grasping my hand, her own hands shaking badly. ¡°Please, try to remember. I don¡¯t know what happened, but we ended up back here¡­¡± ¡°Oh, so you know me,¡± I say, a bit relieved. ¡°But, I¡¯m really sorry, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. What is this place? It¡¯s kind of scary, isn¡¯t it?¡± The abstract murals on the walls, coupled with the churning fireplace, give me a sense of unease I hadn¡¯t had while I was focused on the girl in the black suit. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re both dressed up¡­ but what for?¡± I ask the girl, whose face seemed to have frozen with anxiety. ¡°Mary? Are we¡­ okay?¡± She might have noticed my anxiety growing, as her expression relaxes a bit and she shifts away from me. She lays her head in her hand and laughs weakly. ¡°Of course, we aren¡¯t okay, Mirei. But we¡¯re together, at least.¡± Her shaking voice sends a shiver down my spine as I begin to comprehend the gravity of our situation. I feel tears run down my cheeks involuntarily. Something inside my chest twinges, like a strong feeling of deja-vu. The fireplace sputters suddenly, and rising, shape-shifting flames draw our attention. Every fiber of my body freezes with fear. The thing in the fireplace is both a faceless shape and a shapeless face. Its appearance is enough to petrify me, while Mary stands to her feet with an exasperated look. ¡°You¡­ deceitful devil,¡± her voice quakes along with her clenched fists. ¡°Good evening, ladies,¡± the fire hisses in a menacing whisper. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that shit,¡± Mary fires back, fury in her eyes. ¡°What kind of sick game is this?¡± ¡°It is not me you should worry about,¡± the flames recite, stirring my chest again with the feeling of deja-vu. ¡°You are battling against each other, after all.¡± ¡°What¡­ does that mean?¡± I ask, lips trembling. Mary clicks her tongue as she glances at me, but remains silent. ¡°I am Aku,¡± the fire continues. ¡°I am the power that you seek. You may only gain this power by defeating the other with your dreams. You both desperately need this power of gods. And you will fight against each other¡¯s very own dreams to obtain it. That is,¡± a thin smile forms within the shroud of flames, ¡°If you wish to wake up from this land of dreams we¡¯ve placed you in and return to your real lives.¡± ¡°You have the nerve to spout that bullshit¡­¡± Mary seethes as she lunges at the fireplace, but the warped face fades into the flames before she can reach it. She stops and hangs her head in defeat, clearly afflicted by something. ¡°Mary, what is this?¡± I cry, unable to restrain my panicked features. ¡°Please, tell me what¡¯s going on? What¡¯s going to happen to us?¡± Mary lends me her gaze, radiating beauty despite her distress. ¡°We¡¯ve done this once already, Mirei. I guess you don¡¯t remember because I won the first time, but we went through hell¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ve done this¡­ already¡­?¡± ¡°Yeah, next, a smarmy upstart with slicked back hair is going to come through the-¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. She¡¯s cut off by the sound of the only door in the room, swinging open. A man fitting the description she gave bursts through it, bearing an innocuous demeanor along with the same expression of shock Mary had worn. ¡°JC¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have trusted you for a second,¡± Mary growls, glaring a hole through the well-dressed young man. A fearful expression sprouts on his face as he watches her stride in his direction. ¡°Mary, listen,¡± he pleas, raising his hands in defense. ¡°I didn¡¯t know this would happen, okay? It¡¯s the structure of the dreamsc-¡± Before he can finish, Mary launches a kick at his head. Her black leather boot smacks against his raised arms, which barely shield the kick from his head. He crumples to the floor, breathing hard as he smooths his disheveled hair. ¡°Mary, who is he?¡± I ask in a weak voice, struggling to keep up thanks to the panic overtaking my chest. ¡°You knew all along, didn¡¯t you?¡± Mary demands of the fallen man, ignoring me. ¡°I promise you, I didn¡¯t,¡± he responds calmly as he stands to his feet. ¡°My memory is being blocked. Probably in order for me to guide you naturally, without knowing everything. I don¡¯t know why you didn¡¯t win, but I didn¡¯t know the dreamscape would reset. You have to believe that.¡± ¡°Reset¡­¡± I mutter, but neither of them pay me any mind. Mary gnashes her teeth in contempt, while JC stares her down firmly. I feel as though it¡¯s a familiar scene, but I don¡¯t have any memories to justify that feeling. ¡°There¡¯s more to the dreamscape, Mary,¡± he remarks. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing that makes sense.¡± He seems to be leaving me out on purpose, almost as if Mary is the only one he sees. ¡°There¡¯s a deeper reason to why you didn¡¯t win. If we can figure that out, this time might be different¡­¡± He trails off, finally turning his gaze my way. Mary follows suit, narrowing her eyes on me. ¡°She doesn¡¯t remember anything at all,¡± she says, sparing any of her earlier pity as she refers to me like I¡¯m not here. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s an effect of the reset, but it almost makes me think she¡¯s one of those NPC¡¯s.¡± JC blinks at me silently, prompting me to avert my gaze. ¡°There¡¯s no way she¡¯s an NPC, Mary,¡± he says. ¡°Look at what she was able to do with the fake Mary. She¡¯s a contestant, no doubt. It¡¯s likely that she doesn¡¯t remember the first round because she suffered a total loss. You distorted the world by your design, and despite her best efforts to fight you, you took the other you back and essentially won- right?¡± They¡¯re in their own world now, ignoring my growing anxiety as they talk about a past I have no recollection of. ¡°But that still wasn¡¯t enough,¡± Mary mutters, glancing my way. ¡°Did I really take the other half of myself that was lost with my heart? What more should I have done?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but you¡¯re probably on the right track,¡± JC ponders as he sits down on the chair next to the sofa. ¡°It could be that taking us back with you was a mistake. I know that may sound counterintuitive to my theory about connecting wavelengths, but maybe you should have left us both here and escaped the dreamscape with Aku¡¯s power, and your other half.¡± Mary silently takes a seat on the sofa, beckoning me to follow. As I awkwardly sit, I follow her gaze out the window, where a spectrum of variously sized stars line the night¡¯s sky. ¡°My other half,¡± she mutters. ¡°Have I lost that again, in this new world? And how was Mirei able to take it¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s possible she simply latched on to something that already existed within the world,¡± JC says, his hands clasped underneath his chin. ¡°It¡¯s also possible that it no longer exists, since we left your world. If we assume that half of you is your very own soul, however, we can¡¯t ignore the possibility that it remains with you. What that may mean, I can¡¯t say- but it does give us an idea of what we¡¯re dealing with as we change worlds.¡± ¡°Changing worlds¡­ could you please tell me what that means?¡± I ask, despite my intuition screaming to stay out of their way. JC chuckles through his nose as he looks at me with a smile. ¡°That¡¯s right, we¡¯ve been quite rude to you, haven¡¯t we? I apologize, Mirei. The truth is, for the second time we are going to be changing the world using the power of gods, and of our own dreams. This time, I presume it will be your dreams specifically.¡± Mary snaps her head around, showing more shock than me. ¡°Why would¡­¡± Her voice trails off and she looks down, as if grasping the answer herself. ¡°Mary has overcome her dreams, and her subconscious demons,¡± he continues with a hesitant glance at Mary. ¡°The dreamscape will be less sensitive to her dreams now, and more sensitive to yours, Mirei. It¡¯s almost a guarantee that you¡¯ll shift the world to the place your dreams reside in, this time.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand any of this,¡± I groan, holding my head as I battle an onslaught of nausea brought on by the feeling of deja-vu. Mary lays a hand on my shoulder, rousing me. ¡°It means that you¡¯re in control, this time,¡± she says in a soft voice. ¡°It means this is your fight to win. You may not remember right now, but you have a very strong conviction, one that should allow you to overcome this.¡± ¡°Is that our strategy, then?¡± JC asks her, smiling. ¡°What else do we have?¡± Mary answers, a conflicted look on her face. ¡°If we can¡¯t overcome this by linking wavelengths and bringing the planes together, we¡¯ll have to figure out how Mirei can obtain absolute victory over me like Aku wants.¡± ¡°And you realize what that might mean for you¡­right?¡± JC asks in response, genuine concern coated in his expression. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she says, grasping hold of my trembling hand. ¡°If there¡¯s more to this dreamscape, then we¡¯ll follow your lead and dance to Aku¡¯s tune to figure it out. I¡¯m not giving up on myself, you can count on that. I¡¯m just going to support Mirei if she¡¯s meant to be the star of the show.¡± ¡°But why would you go so far for me?¡± I ask, overwhelmed by her righteous display. ¡°Because, this is scary, isn¡¯t it?¡± she says, smiling. ¡°In that case, we should help each other out- isn¡¯t that right? ¡°Ah¡­ you¡¯re right,¡± I answer, tilting my head and taking in a short gasp as I recall those words. re;trigger The following morning, Mary guides me out the exit door, beyond the blinding light where we land upon a bustling train station. I¡¯d been informed last night, just before falling asleep, that we would be heading to the same lab we visited in the previous world, in order to ¡®bring us to the place my dreams reside.¡¯ I still can¡¯t recall anything aside from our promise, but the feeling of deja-vu surges as JC and Mary lead me through the crowded Shibuya Station. They both seem overly attentive to the ¡°NPC¡¯s¡± as JC called them. Nobody is paying us any mind, so their nervous demeanors are only adding to my own nerves. We reach the street, and with some hesitation, JC flags down a taxi. The driver regards us silently, and JC directs him. A short drive brings us to a narrow road hugged by extravagant trees adorned with pink, blue, and green leaves. Mary shoots me a warm smile as I look in awe at the beautiful trees. She¡¯s been careful not to pay me much attention, so the fact that her every interaction with me is kind makes me feel less anxious. Still, her carefulness in avoiding me, talking to JC as if I¡¯m not there or as if I¡¯m a child, helps me feel grounded. I get the feeling she wants me to know I can¡¯t expect too much from her. Whatever happened that is impelling her to tread so carefully, scares me. The cab drives away as we approach a familiar looking building, the ¡®lab¡¯ as JC called it. Due to the sun breaching the rooftop I can¡¯t see any logo or company name on the building¡¯s front, leaving me skeptical about entering. Mary dispels my hesitance with her straightforward demeanor, leading me by the hand through a revolving door devoid of light, and across an empty atrium. The place resembles a new hospital, its fluorescent lights bouncing off the white tiled floors and granite walls. We take the elevator up, and JC leads the way down the hall and into a dark room. As he flips on the light to reveal a small theatre setup, the growing feeling of deja-vu gives rise to a strong sense of rejection. I step back, the other two waltzing in before glancing back at me in confusion. ¡°What is it?¡± Mary asks, her expression lying at a cross between confusion, concern, and bother. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t want to go.¡± ¡°I know it¡¯s scary, but it¡¯s just as I explained last night,¡± JC urges, attempting to hide his impatience behind his gentle voice. ¡°This is something you have to do in order to face yourself and your dreams.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand any of that,¡± I mumble, taking another step back. ¡°What does any of this have to do with me?¡± ¡°Look, Mirei,¡± Mary replies with a stern look. ¡°You¡¯re anxious about this room for good reason. It¡¯s hard for me to come back here as well. I remember everything so vividly my chest hurts. But¡­ I can go through it again, knowing how hard it is, because everything that happened after helped me to overcome my fear.¡± She extends her arm, a warm smile forming on her beautiful face. ¡°The reason we¡¯re back here is because it¡¯s your turn to overcome your fear,¡± she continues, her open hand waiting patiently. ¡°It¡¯s probably going to be really hard for you, but I know you¡¯ll come out stronger. We were thrust into this world to overcome it, and we can only do so by becoming stronger and overcoming ourselves. Trust me, by the end of this you¡¯ll understand why you yourself are the greatest obstacle in your world. You¡¯ll see, Mirei, that this has everything to do with you. I¡¯m going to be right here with you, so can you trust me for now?¡± There it is again, her effortless ability to sway my heart. Her priviness to our situation serves as a warning that I should be as wary of her as she is of JC, but I can¡¯t help but be captivated by her overwhelming strength and kindness. As my trembling hand falls into hers, I decide I mustn¡¯t let her realize she has me wrapped around her finger. JC quickly prepares the machine before sitting us down and shoving glasses in our faces. The light in the room dims as JC instructs us to focus on the large white screen. As he does so, my vision flickers from the image of Mary, who¡¯s sitting on my left, still holding my hand, to the screen contorting into layers as if melted by heat waves.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Static noise envelops me as the screen seems to stitch its way around the lenses of the glasses. Countless abstract shapes and layers of the white image form a new plane, one that I can¡¯t comprehend nor escape. My mind goes numb to the emotions I¡¯d been feeling, enraptured by shift my consciousness is taking. Finally, the white walls in my mind form into real white walls, joined by a ceiling and a floor. The white walls feel all too familiar, striking me with a debilitating nausea. I grip the thin metal handles of the bed I¡¯m lying in and pinch the white sheets between my toes. The nausea doesn¡¯t let up, stirring my head with panic. I can make out the now completed room, empty aside from my bed. There¡¯s no door, only a small taped-over window to my left. The feeling of being trapped invades me, overflowing as I attempt to eject myself from the bed. Dark, swirling shadows pour from within me, and surround me. The shadows, shapeless and faceless, wrap around my pink pajamas like bonds, holding my frail body firm to the bed. The feeling coursing over my skin is like a cold breeze, but the shadows bear a weight heavier than chains. I try to fight the suppressing feeling, but the weight is simply overbearing. It pushes me into the bed, and the shadows let up on their assault and hover over me like a horde of storm clouds, watching my shaking body. As I attempt to catch my breath, a clanging on the other side of the window triggers a drumming in my chest. I¡¯m stricken with mixed feelings of excitement and dread. I want to answer the clanging on the window, but simply looking at it is bringing the shadows closer. The feeling of helplessness permeates, and tears flow from my eyes like a running faucet. I clutch my beating heart as a numb pain consumes it. The pain spreads through my torso and runs down my arms. A feeling of inexplicable dread persists, forcing me to understand something crucial- I¡¯m going to die. The thing I¡¯m most afraid of is going to happen, and I¡¯m not allowed to struggle against it. What a pathetic life. If only there were something- The taped-over window suddenly shatters, and static noise bursts through it. The face of a young girl, more beautiful than anything I¡¯ve ever seen despite her distress, appears from the other side. Her bloodied face doesn¡¯t even detract from her beautiful visage framed by her tousled long black hair. The moment I see her, my hands move on their own, gripping the bed handles. The shadows respond immediately, swarming me with their weight. The girl is screaming at me over sobs, fighting to squeeze her small body through the tiny window. The only noise coming out is static, so I don¡¯t understand a thing she¡¯s saying. However, I badly want to hear her. I want to hear her and talk to her. It¡¯s the only thing in the world that matters. I grip the handles with all my strength and force my body upright. The shadows do their best to restrain me, but nothing can stop me from talking to her. As I slide out of the bed, my feet land on cold tile. The shadows pull me back toward the bed, but my body fights against them. She watches with wide eyes as I grit my teeth, stepping determinedly toward her despite the suffocating shadows. I reach out my hand and pull her blood-soaked arm through the window. As her slender body falls onto mine, the shadows disappear completely, along with the static noise. Her choppy breaths lick my ear as I partake in her warmth, until she rolls off me and sits up. ¡°Mirei¡­¡± ¡°Mary¡­ you had to go through so much pain, all over again.¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she replies confidently, shaking her head. ¡°Wait- did you remember?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I answer, averting my gaze as tears stream down my cheeks. ¡°I only remember pieces, but¡­ I¡¯m so sorry, Mary. For everything.¡± ¡°Idiot, you don¡¯t have to apologize,¡± she says, frowning. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault we¡¯re in this situation.¡± ¡°No, I think it is,¡± I respond, alarming her. ¡°The moment I saw you, I remembered most of the last world, as well as something important that you haven¡¯t figured out yet.¡± The young girl sits on her knees, listening attentively with a look that doesn¡¯t match her physical age. ¡°What is it?¡± she asks. ¡°The real reason I was controlling the fake you¡­ and likely the reason you didn¡¯t win outright¡­ is that the other half of your heart-¡± I make sure to look her in the eyes as I take her hand and slowly place it on my chest. ¡°The half of your heart that was taken from you so long ago¡­ has been inside me all along.¡± Her face goes still with shock, and her breathing stagnates. The lights on the ceiling suddenly grow brighter, filing the entire room. The sound of rumbling surrounds the room as if the walls are coming down. As the light blots out all but her face, she grips my hand tightly. ¡°Why did you- you shouldn¡¯t have told me that¡­¡± The floor begins to crumble beneath us as her image is covered in light. I fall away from her, our hands still intertwined. ¡°This world will surely use that against us,¡± she says in an unsteady voice. ¡°But even then¡­ it¡¯s your world now, Mirei.¡± second stop;cold wave The white light that consumed everything becomes solid, smothering me underneath it. I fight off what feels like a heavy blanket, unable to breathe, until I¡¯m free. As I gasp for air, I brush off the white powder sticking to my shivering face. ¡°Snow?¡± I shriek, holding my uncovered arms and tucking my skirt between my folded legs. My toes are going numb in my open flats, but I stand to my feet despite that. A field of snow is all I see around me. It¡¯s covered the ground and is coming down in heavy flurries, cutting visibility drastically. I have to get out of here and find somewhere warm, as the biting cold is already overtaking my body. I stretch my legs onward and trudge across the thick snow, heading in no particular direction. Eventually, the thick flurries make way for a road. I still can¡¯t see anything, but it seems unlikely that anything is nearby, as the road is mostly covered in snow and shows minimal tire marks. My body shudders as sharp winds assail me. At a loss, I sit on the road and curl into a ball, frantically weighing my options. If I stay here, I¡¯ll freeze to death. If I venture any further on foot, I¡¯ll likely collapse before I find shelter. But dying cannot be an option, right? I¡¯ve lived through too much to die a meaningless death here. That would make my existence meaningless, wouldn¡¯t it? If I was only born to die, why have I struggled for so long? Why did I have to take something precious from someone else just so that I could live? Now both of our lives are ruined. I should probably just die anyway¡­ But, still, I don¡¯t want to die. Tears stream down my numbed cheeks, offering them a fleeting warmth. Suddenly, a ringing sound reaches my ears. I¡¯ve lost feeling in my hands, but I manage to withdraw my phone. The display is blurry thanks to the tears in my eyes, but the name unmistakably reads JC- a contact I shouldn¡¯t have. I tap the screen with stiff fingers and bring the phone to my ear. ¡°Mirei, are you okay?¡± he calls out in a panic. ¡°I... it¡¯s so¡­ cold¡­¡± I stammer through chattered teeth and frozen lips. ¡°Yes, the weather seems to have changed drastically with the shift,¡± he says in a serious tone. ¡°Do you know where you are?¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ far.¡± ¡°Do you recognize anything around you?¡± he demands with even more desperation. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ nothing.¡± ¡°Damn¡­ I don¡¯t know how I could possibly find you, but I will, okay?¡± His panicked words barely reach me, my mind going whiter by the second. ¡°Ma¡­ry...?¡± I mumble, the phone gradually slipping through my fingers. ¡°Mary already left,¡± he answers in a dejected voice. ¡°Listen, I think that when she defeated the fake which had split away with her heart, it really did return to her. And once you revealed you have the other half of her heart, I think its desire to regain its other half manifested. Right now, Mary is...¡± His voice cuts out as the phone falls from my frozen hand. Despite my heart feeling excruciatingly tight, my consciousness fades to white. As I start to lose my bearings on the snow-covered world, the sound of a car engine resounds nearby. I hear my name shouted, but I before I can identify the owner of the voice, I¡¯m overcome by pure white. I awake to the striking sound of piano chords. My eyes flicker open, revealing a room¡¯s pink walls lined with exquisite wall art depicting cherry blossoms. I peer out the window to find matching cherry blossom trees dotting the snowy courtyard below. My bed fits the room perfectly, its rich pink sheets and blankets covering me up to my neck. Without a doubt, it¡¯s my room. The piano is coming from my PC on the desk by my bed. Its familiar tune draws me in as I carefully remove the blankets and sit up on the side of the bed. My pink pajamas, too, match the room- it¡¯s a bit much if I¡¯m honest. After rubbing my eyes, I gaze at the computer screen. The program is playing a playlist of piano pieces by someone named Shiburei, an oddly familiar name. Just as I¡¯m becoming lost in the soft chords, my door opens. In the doorway stands a middle-aged man whose appearance strikes a chord in my heart. His face, coated by a full black beard and head of hair, along with his broad build and formal suit, looks all too familiar. Upon seeing me, he drops to his knees. ¡°Mirei¡­my precious girl¡­¡± his rigid voice quivers as tears swell in his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re safe now, okay?¡± ¡°F-father¡­?¡± I croak, my throat stifling a gasp. ¡°What¡¯s happening? How are you here?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s happened, but I¡¯m going to help defeat Aku and that girl, and win this,¡± he replies over sobs, standing and taking my hand. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about anything¡­ after all, you are the daughter of the head of the Shibutani Group.¡± My head surges at the sound of that name. Shiburei¡¯s nostalgic piano pours into my head, along with memories. This room indeed belongs to me, as well as the artist on the computer. Shiburei and Mirei Shibutani are one in the same- the pianist daughter of the great family and influential organization. ¡°That¡¯s right, of course I should win,¡± I mutter, averting my gaze. ¡°Because I¡¯m the daughter of a man who would use his power to kidnap an innocent girl and take her heart, just to fulfill his sick daughter¡¯s selfish wish.¡± flicker Folding the snug blanket around my body, I hide from my overwhelmingly pink room. My father had ascertained that I was in dismay and left me with familiar words: ¡°just practice your music and leave everything to me, okay?¡± Leave everything to him? He somehow knows about Aku and Mary. What about JC? My phone is nowhere to be found. Whether it was left in that snowfield, or my father took it, I¡¯m unable to reach JC. If I can¡¯t, how am I going to find her? Should I sit and let her and my father fight each other? This is supposed to be my world. Though I¡¯m not feeling very motivated, Mary did tell me to fight. There must be something I can do- at least, anything would be better than leaving everything to him. Why is he here, anyway? And why does he know so much? He wasn¡¯t around in Mary¡¯s world, but I suppose that isn¡¯t hard to believe, since the NPC¡¯s are unpredictable, as JC said. It seems like it¡¯s really him¡­ but am I safe here, anyway? Father aside, Mary should know about this place. I wonder about our wavelengths, though, especially considering the fake. I don¡¯t even know what I want to do, so there¡¯s no telling what our wavelengths look like right now. Feeling uneasy, I finally force myself out of the cozy bed, still wrapped in the blanket. With a hop I reach the chair and begin working the mouse like it¡¯s natural to me. First, I run a search on a video-sharing site and find my first piano recital at age seven. It¡¯s from the Shibutani Group¡¯s profile and has just a few thousand views, the comments consisting of businessmen trying to win favor with my father. I run a new search for Shiburei, and land on a goldmine. It¡¯s my own profile, stacked with videos of my studio-quality pieces attached to various artworks- some animated or topped with expensive graphic effects. They lie at the bottom of the list in views, yet some eclipse a million views. Above them are music videos with cutesy sketch animation, accompanied with other artist¡¯s vocals or instrumentals- scoring two to three million each. The five most recent videos, dating back as recent as a month, are live performances topping ten million views each. The leap is likely due to the nature of the performances, which reveal a shadowy glimpse of my frail body playing from the comfort of my overly-pink room. More importantly, the piano is accompanied by my own singing, which serves as a striking complement to the piano¡¯s soft cadence with its unassuming pitch. The comment section of the most recent video is riddled with love and support verging on obsession. However, newer comments show concern over my lack of activity since the upload. One particular comment from today stands out, reading: ¡°The world you created here feels like a deep, deep dream¡±. The username stands out even more: JC. I snort at a reply urging ¡®the son of God should really lay off the pipe, and smirk at his audacity. Sending a message this way- he surely is right for this job. I understand what he¡¯s telling me to do, but I¡¯m not sure how to do it. I scroll up and put the video on full screen. After draping the head of my blanket over the monitor to block out any light, I study the video. Every key stroke, and every word uttered. I¡¯m drawn to the lights of several candles flickering on the piano¡¯s edge, swaying and refracting in tandem with the melody and melting my gaze and consciousness within its form. Just as I realize the phenomenon is exactly what I felt with the lab¡¯s machine, I try to pull away to no avail. My perspective melts into the screen and becomes that of the girl within. My fingers move like machinery on the keys, as if I had never stopped playing. The slight humming in my throat helps me stay in key, and I play as if it¡¯s natural, my fingers dashing across the keys with unfettered passion, swift yet precise. The candleflame wraps me with warmth as I sink into drunken ecstasy indulging in my performance. The flames tailor their dancing to the tune of my emotion, my indulgence. Their wax bases all bear the shape of cherry blossoms, casting a similarly shaped shadow upon the melting plates and piano¡¯s surface.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Unhindered by me in my stupor, the cherry blossom shadows dance and distort beyond their caster¡¯s means. Like specters the petals extend and wade across the piano¡¯s dimly illuminated surface, branching into thin, claw-shaped threads. The threads approach and surround me, their claws poised to strike. As the shadows multiply, the heat given off by the candles begins to wane, sending a chill through my body. I try to ignore the feeling in favor of my indulgence, but its effects gradually seep into my bones and slow my movements. With my delayed performance, the shadows come upon me. They smother me with a relentless cold and force my stiffened fingers onto the keys. I answer them and continue the song, desperate to evade the growing cold before it renders my numbed joints unable to operate. Like my life depends on it, I play, inching ever closer to the warmth of the candlelight with each keystroke and fending off the shadows note by note. As the warmth returns, so too does my passion. I feed off of the warmth and carry it as a beacon of my zeal in my craft as I continue kneading the keys with vigor. The shadows of the cherry blossom petals retract to normal size, their form glitching in equality with their caster, the flickering candleflames. Like clockwork, however, the candleflames calm and the shadows once again set out for their prey. The cold returns, spreading within me. My limbs shudder as they¡¯re compelled to move despite stiff pain. The cycle completes and repeats as the shadows withdraw and the warmth returns. It repeats once over, and then twice over. After a third iteration, I desire the warmth much more than I had at the start. After an eighth time, I become fixated on the warmth and play carefully and meticulously in order to return to it. After ten rounds, I manage to prolong the period of warmth with the quality of my playing. However, the cold always comes. With a twentieth iteration, my playing becomes so crisp that I stretch the warm cycle over a minute, but when the cold finally returns, it does so with equal magnitude. My bones verging on freezing, I urge them on along with the shadows, producing even better work. As I gnash the keys with yet more energy, I feel the warmth burning inside me; not as a beacon, but a fuel. As my hunger inclines more, a foreign sound radiates from my computer behind me. ¡°Mirei,¡± the voice whirrs loudly. Its extraneous placement within my cycle confuses me but does not stop my devoted playing. ¡°Mirei, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re going through hell¡­ but you have to overcome it. It seems JC and I can¡¯t help you. it¡¯s our fault for saying we would. That misstep in our strategy is going to cost us.¡± The buzzing is extraneous, indeed, but it does not feel cold, at least. Despite the shadows, I attune my ears to it. ¡°Can you hear me? I¡¯m still here no matter what, okay?¡± ¡°Mary?¡± I hum out loud, only partially aware of who I¡¯m referring to. ¡°Mirei!¡± she cries emphatically. ¡°Listen, you have to hurry and get out of here. The more time you spend in here, the closer our wavelength will become!¡± ¡°But Mary¡­ I can¡¯t stop playing, you see?¡± I remark, grinding the keys boastfully. ¡°I know you can¡¯t, Mirei,¡± she says with a warmth exceeding that of the candleflames. ¡°Of course, you can¡¯t, because¡­ you¡¯re terrified of dying.¡± Her words cut my performance short, wiping the mad look off my face and replacing it with fear. The shadows swarm me, but even their coercion is not enough to move my limbs. My arms and hands begin to ice over as the flames start to fade. What feels like iron strings coil around my heart and wrench it upward. The feeling of my soul itself being ripped from me, pervades, and begs me to fight against it. I think only of myself, recalling my pitiful life, and reach for my soul within myself. I think only of living, and call out to every nerve in my body. A single nerve answers my call, jerking my index finger downward onto a key. The key responds in kind, playing and holding a low note until my vision is blotted out and static overwhelms my consciousness. Falling out of my computer chair, I throw my blanket off and stagger toward my bed, my pajamas sticking to my skin with cold sweat. I gasp for breath, trying to ignore the melody coming from my computer. My attention is stolen immediately by the sound of nearby thunder. Slowly, I direct my gaze out the window and step forward. The window which had just displayed a midday snowstorm, now reveals a thunderstorm in the dead of night. The snowy floor is illuminated by a stampede of lightning just beyond the property. Opposite the gate at the bottom of the hill lined with cherry blossom trees, a horde of people, armed with various weapons, also stand illuminated. At their head, a slender girl with riveting black hair wearing a black dress suit glares daggers in my direction, thunder cracking through the sky as if manifested by her gaze alone. snowstorm Overcome with both fear and anticipation, I slide the bottom panel of the window open and peer down. Black suits pour from the front door, braving the harsh winds to point their guns at the people on the other side of the gate. The slender girl at the front of the group steps to the side, ignoring the men. The group splits in half as the rumbling of a motor resonates from the road. Two large trucks blast their floodlights onto the gate as they tear through the snow, crashing violently through the gate. Shards of iron bounce across the snowy surface, trailing the skidding trucks as they advance in the direction of the black suits, followed by the horde of attackers. The first shot comes from the black suits, who scatter as the trucks crash into the mansion¡¯s forefront. The ensuing tremor nearly ejects me from the window, but I¡¯m too engrossed to leave my position. A storm of crossfire breaks loose in the yard as the group charges up the hill. She seems to have blended in with them as they advance, slinging smoke bombs around the yard. The visibility, already blurred by the inclement weather, worsens. Suddenly, I¡¯m thrust away from the window by a cold gust of wind, just in time. Bullets streak by my face and ricochet off the ceiling with ferocious velocity. The window shatters as the gunfire spreads, glass raining down on me. I stagger toward the door but lose my footing just as a small object falls through the window and rolls to my door before bursting. White light overtakes my room as my sight turns to static and my ears are pierced by a deafening sound. I cover them, but it¡¯s too late- I can¡¯t hear anything aside from a sharp ringing. Gritting my teeth, I stand to my feet. Deaf and blind to everything around me, I feel my way across the room and find the door. My hands ache as I swing it open and stagger through the doorway. Not thinking to close the door behind me, I hurry down the hall as my vision slowly returns. A bullet screams across my shoulder, forcing a shriek that I can¡¯t hear. Lowering my head as I grasp at the grazed flesh, I continue down the red-velvet hallway. Upon turning, I stop to catch my breath. I don¡¯t know what my father is doing, or if he¡¯s even here- so I¡¯m lost as to what I should do. I can¡¯t fight that violent mob, so escaping is the best option. If I can make it out of here, that is. I still want to see her, though. Even if she¡¯s the fake who purely wants her heart back. I feel like it¡¯s the only way forward. Maybe I should just give up and offer her my heart- rather, her own heart. My hesitance earns me two visitors from the direction of my room. They aim their guns at me, but before they can fire, they are fired upon from behind me. The NPC¡¯s turn their guns on the black suits and fire back- resulting in a dead draw. The four bodies lay on either side of me, motionless. The idea that so many people could throw their lives away on my behalf strikes me with a certain anxiousness. I vomit at the sight, tears running down my cheeks. The blood drawn from the glass on my arms and neck become apparent as nausea fills my head. The excited delirium caused by the abrupt trauma prevents me from comprehending the severity of the wounds, so I stagger through the hall and down several flights of stairs, driven only by fear. Mary¡¯s words come to me, reminding me of what I¡¯ve always feared more than anything. Whether or not giving up my heart is the right thing to do, I¡¯m simply too afraid of what it will mean to go through with it. I traverse the red carpeted hallways mechanically, the memory of the mansion¡¯s layout coming to me with every step. Just before I can open the door leading to the main lobby, it¡¯s broken open by force. Through it, a man dives, crashing aggressively into me. We both hit the floor violently and roll away from each other, and as I attempt to sit myself up, he begins crawling toward me.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. It¡¯s clear he¡¯s on the verge of death, numerous bullet wounds making a mural of spilled blood on his trench coat. However, his mad fixation on me is apparent in his eager face as he lunges at me- gun in hand. My fear overflows from within, and I scream. This time I hear my own shrill cry, my ears waking from their sleep. The sound of beating wind reaches me, and I glance to the main room to see a gaping hole made by one of the trucks. The destroyed walls around the truck allow snow and wind inside, bringing a hard chill to the air inside. The winds seem to respond to my piercing cry, exploding around the room. As a result, the cold air pours into the hallway I¡¯m in. My cry untiring, the air wraps and freezes around the man before he can pull the trigger. As if the oxygen itself had been sucked from him by the weaponized frozen air, he ceases movement and goes blue before collapsing. The freezing air dissipates, and I¡¯m compelled to vomit once more. The back of my eyes pulsate, and I feel a warm liquid seeping from my ears and nose. My skin throbs, the cold air infiltrating the numerous wounds. I feel my blood harden and my bones stiffen. Fighting the cold, I stand back to my feet and cross the threshold into the main room. The snow flurry has invaded the room, lowering visibility. The sounds of gunfire continue outside, but another sound steals my attention- the flickering of flames. I can¡¯t tell where it¡¯s coming from exactly, but the accompanied dripping sound leads my gaze to the truck. Just as an idea strikes me, so does another bullet. My leg is hit directly, flooring me. I shriek once more as I look up to see the figure of a slender girl appear from within the flurry. Her long black hair shines brilliantly with the snow¡¯s fragments as she bares her vicious eyes at me. ¡°Mary¡­ please, this isn¡¯t the right way-¡± My plea is cut short by another shot from her pistol, this time aimed at my head. The bullet blasts through my left ear, leaving a maimed crater. My scream grows in volume, blending once again with the screeching winds. As the fake Mary closes the distance and takes hold of my bloodied hand, the air unnaturally stagnates again. She ignores the unearthly phenomenon and begins dragging me toward the truck. She must be struggling to breath, but she isn¡¯t showing it. I wonder why my cries, which are somehow manipulating the air itself, aren¡¯t compromising her. Also, my father should be the last one to disappear at a time like this, so why hasn¡¯t he come to answer my cries? He¡¯s always taken care of everything, and he even assured me he would help me defeat Mary and win- so why? Mary and JC are on my side, and there¡¯s my father and his men. Above all, I have power in this shifted world, so why am I still doomed to die when everything should be working in my favor? Mary coughs blood into her hand as the oxygen decays further. It¡¯s finally starting to affect her, but I¡¯m unphased by it. Rather, my senses are more attuned than ever, despite the tortuous pain searing through my body as ice begins to form a coat over my skin, compelled by the air itself. ¡°Mary, don¡¯t you¡­ hear¡­ the fire?¡± I mutter through chattered teeth, my lips struggling to even move. She glares at me curiously, and turns around- just as it happens. The truck implodes, flames erupting from it. The blast catches us both, sending us across the room in pieces. The numerous sensations assaulting me compound into a craze of pain as I watch the walls of the mansion crash down around the conflagration. Exposed to the outside, I hear the thunderous storm overhead. Ice, rain, snow, and thunder assault the property, joined by the flames to create a horrendous cluster around me. Mary, reduced to a limbless torso some meters away, watches me with silent tears, the rabid determination gone from her expression. Her quiet distress surges my own despair as I mourn her plight, and curse my own. Snowfall pours over us as I cry, eventually blanketing the raging fire. The bulk of her distorted figure, too, becomes blanketed by thick snow and ice. I attempt to drag my own flayed figure in her direction, but I¡¯m incrusted with ice quicker than I can comprehend. My heart isn¡¯t slowing its toll, but my consciousness is fading fast along with my hope. The only light remaining comes from the miraculously bloodless pale face of the girl who came to have my heart. She alone reminds me of my wish to live, a wish that was originally supported by just one person. As white light envelops my freezing soul, my fading mind forms the image of my father¡¯s smiling face. ¡°Mirei, dear?¡± I awake to a comforting sound, one so routine I¡¯m compelled to answer it, no matter what. ¡°Father?¡± I mumble, rubbing my eyes. ¡°Mirei¡­my precious girl¡­¡± his rigid voice quivers as tears swell in his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re safe now, okay?¡± winking owl ¡°Father, you wouldn¡¯t leave me, right?¡± I ask him with pleading eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll stay with me, and take care of me like you always have, right?¡± ¡°Of course, dear. Of course, I¡¯ll take care of you, no matter what. You¡¯re my precious daughter.¡± His familiar response brings me some relief, though it¡¯s unavoidably shallow. However, it¡¯s all I can do to accept his words and protection. There¡¯s no way I can survive without it, especially after what happened¡­ last night? I was blown to bits. I was dying¡­ no, I died, without a doubt. So, how am I here? What is going on in this place? Suddenly, a soft hooting sound draws my attention to the window, where a white owl hangs amidst the snow-topped cherry trees, winking its right eye while fixing its deep blue left eye on me. Without thinking, I wink back with a dumb smile on my face. ¡°Mirei? Are you okay?¡± My father asks in confusion. ¡°Yes, father,¡± I reply softly, smiling at him. ¡°It¡¯s just strange, the owl is winking like it¡¯s trying to send a message.¡± He shifts his gaze toward the window, and grows more confused. I look back to where I¡¯d seen the snow-white owl, but it¡¯s gone. ¡°Sorry, father, it¡¯s nothing,¡± I say, widening my smile politely. ¡°I¡¯m feeling a bit under the weather, so would you mind letting me rest for a bit?¡± ¡°Certainly, just call if you need me, dear.¡± He offers me a loving smile before departing. Just like before, I sit at the computer and immediately look down at the corner of the screen, confirming my fear: the date hasn¡¯t changed since yesterday. I find Shiburei¡¯s most recent video, ¡®Sunscape¡¯. All the comments are the same, except for one. From the username, JC: Listening to your passionate music repeatedly makes me feel like I¡¯m frozen in time with you¡­but I wonder, what¡¯s keeping you from singing your next song? While I¡¯m frozen in this trance, I feel your flame is fading out¡­ Like clockwork I¡¯m drawn into the trance he¡¯s referring to, and once again I¡¯m playing the piano surrounded by candlelight. This time I play flawlessly, having memorized how to avoid the shadows. Instead, the shadows dance behind the candlelight, forming shapes that distort and deconstruct the room. Once broken down, the room reconstructs into a familiar scene. I¡¯m looking at a younger me, playing my second piano recital ever at 7 years old. The chords sing from her fingers as flawlessly as my own. The crowd is entranced, in tears, and beaming at her figure. My father is at the front of the crowd, crying silent tears with the most excited expression I¡¯ve ever seen. However, his expression is wiped abruptly away when the younger me stops moving her fingers. Her arms tremble, and her body quakes before slumping to the floor, convulsing. The audience swarms around the young me as I lose consciousness with her. I awake within an eight-year-old version of myself, bedridden in a white room, with my father at my bedside. He clasps my hand strongly while fighting back his tears and doing his best to smile. ¡°The doctor says I only have five years left, like mommy,¡± I whisper through labored breaths. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that, honey¡­ I¡¯ll figure something out.¡± ¡°But daddy, my heart is¡­¡± ¡°Everything will be okay! I¡¯m here, okay?¡± he cries, cheeks twitching as the tears roll down them without his permission. Through sobs I reply. ¡°¡­okay.¡± At age ten, I¡¯m sitting at a brand-new piano, adorned with ten cupcakes stuck with lit candles. My frail figure happily plays the piano for my father and his most trusted men, along with my mother- who sits in a wheelchair crying elated tears. My song finishes, and my father approaches me, leading the group in ferocious applause. ¡°Mirei, there¡¯s no doubt you¡¯re our daughter,¡± he cries. ¡°Look how strong you¡¯ve become. Tell me, what do you want to do next? You have so much ahead of you, after all!¡± Subsequently, I¡¯m filming my own compositions all on my own. My playing hastens even further, equivalent to my love and happiness for the dream I¡¯m living out. Tears of joy stream down my face, uncaptured by the camera that points toward my rapidly maneuvering hands on the keyboard, and the eleven candles burning atop the piano¡¯s surface. After I finish filming and uploading the video, my father enters. I carelessly fiddle about the keys, winding down from the performance. ¡°Mirei, look at the comments already! Several thousand people have watched, and everyone loves your performance. This one says: please don¡¯t stop playing¡­your music saved me¡­and I¡¯m not the only one, with a wink.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. He proceeds to read the comments to me while my leisurely play turns into emphatic serenade, tears silently streaming down my cheeks as I¡¯m choking up with a smile. Now with twelve candles atop the piano, I¡¯ve become a full-fledged video artist. I¡¯ve posted at least fifty videos, each garnering more views and support than the last. The current video I¡¯m filming is my first true live performance. My nerves had been on high, but my fingers breathe life into the keys more than ever before, resulting in my best performance to date. Toward the end, my voice lets loose a melody I wasn¡¯t ever aware it was capable of. The song, and overall piece, proves a resounding success, providing me the high of my life. As I catch my breath within the silent, stuffy room that had received its fill of my playing, my sweaty face droops over the keys. At that moment, something strikes my heart- a momentous epiphany. Despite my condition, and my terminality, I can send a message of hope to those like that winking kid who comments on every video. I feel selfish for having not realized it before, but I understand my purpose now, and I realize this kind of performance was what the comments of support had been leading up to. However, in that moment, my heart, so ecstatic and overcome with self-discovery- fails. My father rushes to my side as I crumble on the floor, clutching my chest. Only two months later, I sit at the piano to play, camera rolling- but the chords won¡¯t flow out like they had before. My stiff arms and pale hands hesitate, and end up dragging several keys repetitively, thinking back on my father¡¯s cheerful voice as he read out the comments of support from my fans, and his and my mother¡¯s tear-filled smiling faces. ¡°Mirei?¡± The door opens, but he doesn¡¯t come in. His voice, striving for that same cheerfulness, sounds noticeably worn. ¡°Dear, I know how much you want to continue your work, but between your condition and the loss of your mother, your heart can¡¯t take it right now.¡± His voice trembles as he struggles to raise his pitch. ¡°Please, just practice at your leisure and let your father handle things. I promise, I¡¯ve figured out how to save you. Are you listening? Mirei, I found a heart for you- and I¡¯ll bring it to you soon.¡± ¡°Please, father¡­ if you do, I promise I¡¯ll become an even better pianist¡­for you, mom, and everyone watching me- I¡¯ll sing as if my heart was made for it.¡± Several months later- my condition had worsened again. Yet, I continue to play, and post videos. The most recent was posted yesterday, titled Winking Owl- the fifth upload in as many days. It¡¯s a song I wrote after my mother¡¯s passing, themed on refusal to give up through silent suffering and hard work. As I read down the list of comments, I begin to cry. This time, however, they aren¡¯t tears born of joy, but despair and fear. The comments point out my fading voice, and my less-than passionate keystrokes, implying I¡¯ve succumbed to despair or sickness. The top comment, and the one that stands out the most, reads: I¡¯m saddened, by the obvious melancholy you¡¯re displaying through your vastly different playing, but even more by how beautiful it sounds despite- or rather, because of the pain it conveys. I hope you find peace in whatever trial you face¡­just know that you¡¯ve created such an amazing world from your own heart, and I¡¯m eagerly awaiting your next song, with a wink. My eyes hover over the username, written in plain English- JC. The me still playing the piano to keep the shadows moving stops for a moment. The shadows begin to blot the scene out as they materialize, but before they do, I continue playing in the deep dream world, something inexplicable urging me. The image returns, and my father interrupts my review of the comments by barging into the overly pink room. ¡°Mirei, come quick! Everything is okay, now, the problem is fixed. Your new heart¡­ it¡¯s here!¡± He pulls me down the hall and several flights of stairs before coming to a secluded room that looks like mine without any d¨¦cor. There¡¯s nothing in the room, besides an old futon mattress riddled with holes and stained with blood. On top of it, a thin young girl around my age lays curled up, asleep. Her tattered clothes, long black hair, and piercing pale flesh stagnate my piano playing, my fingers holding down the same note until my ears are filled with a dull noise. As everything fades to white, a voice blends into the noise. ¡°Mirei¡­ run.¡± I return to my room, and rise up from the pink bed. As soon as I do, I¡¯m pushed back down. The older version of the cold-blooded and hot-tempered girl from my dreams stands over me, her eyes burning holes into my own. ¡°You gave me way too much time, today.¡± Her hand coils around my throat before I can move. Its grip tightens, and any notion of fighting back seems to vacate me as my body simply freezes with the shock of the sudden attack. The sounds of gunshots and thunder reach my ears immediately, and flames outside the broken window lick my vision¡¯s periphery. As I process the feeling of bloodlust being directed at me, my heart aches to be saved. It aches to live, so that I can continue playing. That might be all that matters to me, even if it¡¯s one more song. Her hand shines as she rears it forth from her suit jacket. A small knife reflects the orange flames as it plunges into my chest without warning. Or, it should have. Before the knife pierces my pink pajamas, a thick layer of ice coats my chest and expands itself around the knife. She tries to pull her hand away, but the ice covers it too, spreading up her arm. The ice expands throughout the room rapidly, rendering us both immobile. Mary, distraught, bares her teeth and attempts to wriggle her knife-hand free. Just as she does, a slab of ice falls from the ceiling of the overly pink room and lands with a thud on her head. As she falls on me, teetering in and out of consciousness, the growing ice covers my face and separates us. Her bloody lips move slowly on the other side of several inches of ice. ¡°No matter how many times¡­. I¡¯ll come for what you stole¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mary,¡± I mutter through the thick ice, my vision going white. ¡°I know it¡¯s pitiful and horrible of me, but I want to live. I want to keep playing. For that, I need your heart!¡± As a heavy breath escapes her lips and fogs the ice, I¡¯m overcome by the freezing cold of the ice along with the white light. I awake once more in my overly pink room. Before the door can swing open, I instinctively hop out of bed and sit at the computer. As my father drops to his knees, I¡¯ve already brought up the video. ¡°Mirei, dear¡­you¡¯re okay now.¡± I shoot him a forced smile, avoiding eye contact, before looking out the window. The owl is there, winking silently. I wink back, shift my gaze to the computer screen, and scroll to ¡®Sunscape¡¯s comments to find what I¡¯m looking for. I¡¯m still eagerly awaiting your next song. We all are, with a wink. re;freeze ¡°Mirei, what is it?¡± Father asks as I smile at the computer screen, a tear silently rolling down my cheek. ¡°Just reading some messages of support,¡± I reply weakly. ¡°I¡¯m sure they miss your music, but right now-¡± ¡°Father, I want to make a video today. Will you allow me to work on my own?¡± I say, directing my smile at him. ¡°Mirei¡­ I understand your feelings, but now isn¡¯t the time. We have to focus on taking the rest of that girl¡¯s heart!¡± His voice gradually raises to a desperate shout, his eyes wide. ¡°Father, you can¡¯t understand my feelings all the time, no matter how hard you try- and that¡¯s okay,¡± I reply, my smile wilting to something pitiful. ¡°This is something I must do, not just for myself, but for all the people who support me. I have to move forward. If I keep standing still in fear of dying, I¡¯ll remain frozen in time forever.¡± ¡°But to do that¡­ to move forward¡­¡± he stammers, his expression tightening with anguish. ¡°Yes, I understand I need the rest of her heart. That¡¯s what all of this comes down to, isn¡¯t it¡­?¡± My voice trails off as I look out the window to the now vacant cherry-blossom tree, before steering back to meet his gaze. ¡°But, regardless, I have to walk forward in my own way. I can¡¯t rely on you for everything now.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± he responds with a reluctant sigh, before standing to his feet and exiting the room with a weak smile. Aware that I¡¯m working against the clock, I quickly set up my piano and camera, electing to go without candles or other decoration. With only a vague notion of the song I want to make, I start practicing. The cold weather proves more prevalent in this world that lies closer to reality than the deep dream world, making the bones and joints in my arms and hands significantly stiffer. It takes me nearly an hour to warm up, and after another hour I¡¯ve got a rough idea of the song I want to perform. I play back the video and review my playing, noting down the things I want to change or emphasize, and continue practicing. My playing is sloppier than normal, having gone without practice for so long. The trance of the deep dream world isn¡¯t there, nor are the shadows. However, there¡¯s a similar feeling hanging around my chest, a feeling of pressure and unease. The pressure turns to a debilitating pain, forcing me to rest and take deep breaths. In the deep dream world, this is the point where the shadows would force my play to continue, at the expense of its natural energy and quality. In reality, it¡¯s my burden to push myself and provide better music for my supporters. I hate to think this, but I¡¯m beginning to realize I¡¯ve let that pressure come from my father, as I allowed him to hold my fate in his hands, relying on him to save me while promising to improve myself in return. At that time, I allowed myself to be held hostage by my father¡¯s overbearing, self-righteous love for me. My playing suffered as a result, and became less spirited. As a result, the melancholic Winking Owl was born. A bitter song born of pain and submission to my plight. I¡¯m not sure if it was my father¡¯s involvement that caused me to submit, but the only thing I can do now is acknowledge it and avoid continuing that mistake. Therefore, I force myself to rest, reading comments of support and playing at leisure. Several hours pass before I perform the new song again, invigorated by my natural process. I can confidently say it¡¯s ready to post- but that will have to wait till ¡°tomorrow¡±. My ears perk up as the sound of thunder tears me away from my nirvana. Nightfall has come, bringing with it a great storm. With a deep breath I make for the door. Wasting no time to look at the window, I thrust myself through the doorway and bound down the hallway. It seems I¡¯m early to the draw this time, as nobody meets me on the way to the first floor. Just as I enter the main hall, the truck crashes through the entry way, throwing shards of brick and glass in my direction. My head and leg are struck by several pieces, but I manage to keep my footing while clutching onto my head. The pain searing through my temple and my thigh grows numb, as if frozen. Opening my eyes and raising my head, I lay my gaze upon her just as she appears through the broken wall, breathing hard and staring daggers. As much as I want to face her without any tears, the pain makes them fall. ¡°Mary, how is it possible for us to be so close despite our wavelengths?¡± I ask, breathing choppily as I attempt to deter the oncoming sobs. Her look of surprise indicates she wasn¡¯t expecting that, even though she seems fully aware of the world¡¯s mechanisms. ¡°We obviously have different goals in my world, so how?¡± I continue, stepping toward her. Clearly threatened, she withdraws a handgun and points it at me. ¡°You want your heart back, and I¡¯m not willing to give it up¡­ so we shouldn¡¯t be able to interact. Or is it like your world, where you came to meet me through the fake you? But I guess that sounds strange since this is the fake you.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been thinking a lot about the nature of the dreamscape, haven¡¯t you?¡± she says, baring her teeth at me scornfully. ¡°Even so, you don¡¯t understand a thing.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I mutter, shocked by her biting response. ¡°But it¡¯s true that the real Mary is inside you, like me in the first world¡­ so what am I missing? How do I bring you out of that fake? I want to be with the Mary who wants to work together- I haven¡¯t given up on that!¡± ¡°You¡¯re blinded by your selfishness, like a spoiled child,¡± she says, her face twisting with resentment. ¡°You really are pitiful.¡± I stand stock-still, frozen by her words. She takes advantage of my pause, firing the gun at my leg. The bullet lands just next to a glass impalement. I wince at the pain, but instead of falling, I grit my teeth and take a step forward on the wounded leg. Again, a numb feeling courses through the wound, allowing me to take another step forward. The tears pouring down my face harden into ice, pieces breaking off and falling while others stick to my cheeks. ¡°In that world, JC was with you,¡± I mutter. ¡°He guided you and brought you to me. So, fake Mary, where is JC now? Why am I forced to fight alone?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Another shot is fired into my other leg, and I find both legs buckling before I can struggle against the pain. ¡°You¡¯re so confident in the devices of your world,¡± she says, dropping the gun and withdrawing a long knife. ¡°You¡¯re just trying to get information to use next time, so I¡¯ll just open you up now and take my heart before you can reset!¡± She lunges at me, aiming the knife at my chest. Just as the previous time, a patch of ice blocks its path. However, she reacts quickly. Her supposed empty left-hand flashes a smaller knife, and drives it into my chest above the patch of ice before I can react. Ice immediately forms around the impalement, but not before she cuts the hole wide enough to sink her fist into. I feel her hand coil around my heart as her momentum sends us crashing to the floor. My piercing scream fills the air, freezing it just as it had the first time. Mary strains herself in the attempt to pull my heart skyward, her face going purple. However, something stops her. ¡°Wha-¡± she mutters, eyes wide. I¡¯m just as surprised as her, as what I feel is not her hand around my bare heart, but around a thick, impenetrable layer of ice. The toxic air paints our skin with a thick sheet of ice, and her hand is buried under the expanding ice within my chest. As she struggles in vain, coughing blood onto the block of ice growing around her arm, a tear rolls down her cheek. ¡°This is the best shot I have¡­ at living a life without fear!¡± she cries, her tears freezing on her face as they fall. ¡°This is my only chance to break free from my fate. I won¡¯t just fade away!¡± ¡°Mary¡­¡± I mutter, my words seeping out like frozen venom and eliminating any remaining oxygen from the room while pillars of ice sprout from the walls. As the trail of her frozen tears connect to my own, my vision goes white. I open my eyes, and immediately roll out of bed and lunge for my computer. My father enters like usual, delivering a pitiful speech, but my focus lies only on the screen. Today¡¯s comment reads: If you ever feel like your fate is written out for you¡­ just remember that only you can be the driver of your story. Take your fate by the wheel and break through whatever barrier you¡¯re facing. I blink my eyes furiously, like a flickering light. My gaze shifts toward my father, who gives me a curious look. ¡°Father, will you be away this evening?¡± I ask plainly. ¡°Ah, yes, I do have some work to see to,¡± he replies, taken aback by my sudden inquiry. ¡°But, why-¡± ¡°I see¡­ you¡¯ll be careful, won¡¯t you? I¡¯d like to see you tomorrow,¡± I interrupt, smiling transparently. ¡°Yes, of course,¡± he replies, nearly in tears. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to see you tomorrow, then.¡± As soon as he leaves, I tidy up and prepare my personal stage for performance. Once ready, I turn the camera on and bring my hands to the keys. Thanks to my practice from the previous ¡®today¡¯, I execute the song exactly how I¡¯d imagined. My face bears a smile as the keys sing the tune my heart wrote out. My voice comes out shyly at first, but grows to a sweet, triumphant cry at the song¡¯s climax. I quickly review the footage of the performance, finding no flaws, and waste no time in connecting the camera¡¯s hardware to my computer. I upload the video to Shiburei¡¯s channel, applying the thumbnail- a beautiful drawing a fan made for me, wherein I¡¯m lying in a field of cherry blossoms. Nerves stir up my chest as the video renders, before popping up on my feed. I don¡¯t even have to wait five minutes before the views start racking up, and comments begin pouring in. The comments comprise mostly of those absolutely shocked by my return, proclaiming that I¡¯m back from the dead, and showing their support for me and the new song. In fact, the volume of views and comments continues to soar higher at an alarming rate. After thirty minutes, I check the view count again, and jump to my feet, craning my neck to look closely at the monitor. The new video has already accrued twenty million views- twice the amount on Sunscape. The comments now vary so widely they don¡¯t even seem to be about Shiburei or the song anymore. They¡¯re talking about the ¡®Ice Age Apocalypse¡¯ and the apparent miracle of the sun showing through the clouds at the sudden posting of my video, some appointing me as the ¡®Apocalyptic Princess¡¯. Several comments argue that the son of God was right all along, having prophesied my rise as the goddess of a new world. I search the comments avidly, looking for one in particular. Finally, I find it, posted only minutes prior. It¡¯s wonderful to see the blooming of your world after being frozen in time so long. I can¡¯t wait to see what becomes of it once you¡¯ve truly got your hands on the steering wheel- for starters, how about a live performance with the nation¡¯s former sweetheart and your inspiration, ¡®The Blinking Owl¡¯? Imagine how that would melt the frozen-over hearts of the people¡­ But, Flightbound, eh? I can¡¯t think of a more fitting sequel to ¡°Winking Owl¡±. It¡¯s about time that hard-working little owl took flight, after all. JC¡¯s comment garners thousands of likes almost instantly, and comments such as ¡®this fake Jesus guy has been here since her very first video, and always has something weirdly prophetic to say¡­ what gives?¡¯ and ¡®what are you two doing to the world? This seems like some grand scheme that I don¡¯t understand¡­ but I don¡¯t like it.¡¯ As I ponder JC¡¯s comments as well as the rapidly multiplying replies of various tone and intent, I notice the view count has reached forty million. My head and chest are stricken with pain as I attempt to process the situation. How could so much attention fall on me? And just because I posted a video for the first time in over a month¡­ is it a product of my world? All I can think of now is that I have all these people watching me¡­ so many more people that I can¡¯t let down. The thought of failing so many people fills my head, and gives me the impression that it¡¯s being squeezed from the outside. I close my eyes as my vision begins to blacken. The striking pain makes my consciousness waver, as the tightness in my chest increases at a parallel. ¡°Oh no¡­¡± I mumble, trying to force my eyes open. However, it¡¯s already too late. Everything goes dark, and while I can still feel my distant body standing, I find myself playing the piano in the deep dream world. The cycle of candlelight, joy, shadow, and apathy proceeds. I¡¯ve become so used to it that I can go along with mind-numbing sequence, the origin of my frozen heart. I¡¯m so used to it that I navigate the cycle with flawless play, simultaneously moving my numbed body in the dreamscape. I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going, or how much time is passing, but I keep moving, and keep playing, confident that I won¡¯t have to see this dream again. ¡°Mirei¡­¡± her voice echoes from somewhere in the deep dream world full of shadows. My focus undeterred, I listen closely. ¡°If you manage to defeat me, I want you to know it¡¯s okay. I understand how strong your desire to live is after watching you play here for such a long time. I¡¯ve been here longer than you know, watching these memories, these shadows that torment you. I understand your pain, your fear of dying, but even more so your passion and desire to live. I¡¯m sure you know which one is more important now, so it goes without saying that you¡¯re as strong as any.¡± Her calm, gentle voice begins to trail off, and a soft hoot sound comes from somewhere behind me. I break my focus and slowly turn my stiff neck to the place the window should be. ¡°But you should also know, she- no, I, won¡¯t ever stop fighting. As long as I have something to fight for, I¡¯ll never fade away.¡± My gaze finds the shadowy window, its open pane offering a direct view of the owl perched on its sill with one eye closed. Suddenly, my consciousness is ripped from the deep dream world and thrust back into my body in the dreamscape. I¡¯m instantly assaulted by freezing wind and the dead, noxious air surrounding me. In between myself and the truck crammed inside the wall, she stands before me once more, her hands adorned with some sort of spiked gloves. Her gaze penetrates mine as she steps toward me, prompting spears of ice to rise like snakes around me, poising to strike. Without thinking, I wink one eye, shooting her a wry smile as I take control of the ice and step forward to meet her. driver Mary fires the pistol without hesitation, her eyes brimming with bloodlust. I manipulate the surrounding ice, extending it from my arms like tree branches. The bullets are repelled by the thick ice, prompting Mary to pace around me and fire at various angles. Careful not to allow the ice to take over like the other times, I continue sprouting more branches to deflect her bullets. Unfaltering, she smashes through several of the branches with her spiked gloves and closes the distance between us. Before she can fire another shot, I use another branch to sweep her feet out from beneath her. My branches swarm on her, forming fists and raining punch after punch upon her struggling figure. Before long, her defense breaks and her arms fall limp at her side. Her blood is painted on the ice that extends from my body, but it feels as though it¡¯s on my own hands. Fighting back tears, I wipe the blood off her face with my ice, my hands shaking underneath folded arms. I never thought my desire to live and fight would look so ugly and pathetic. I suppose it¡¯s only natural, though- as base as the feeling is. As I make to exit the burning house, using the ice as a shield, I feel sickened by my own selfishness. Preparing a block of ice as cover, I survey the battle taking place in the yard. A few dozen of my father¡¯s men remain, fighting against even more attackers. They haven¡¯t noticed me yet, so their aim stays on the black suits. As several of the men dissipate into shadow upon being hit, I sneak to the side of the building. With the battle out of my view, I trek uphill to the neighboring fence some twenty meters away, dragging behind me a coughing girl. I hurry my steps, and lift her over the fence before dropping her onto the grass on the other side and forming a thick dome of ice over the fence. I have her gun in within my ice, so she isn¡¯t much of a threat anymore. Hoping the fire won¡¯t reach her before she wakes up, I head back to the scene of battle, thinking back on JC¡¯s most recent messages. Covering myself in ice, I step back into the burning building. The truck embedded in the doorway seems to be seconds away from exploding like it had my first iteration. I hurriedly throw the door open with my ice, and reach for the unconscious man behind the wheel.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The clean-cut, suited man wears a coat of blood over his face and chest, his hair uncharacteristically disheveled. ¡°JC, hang in there!¡± I shout, grasping a hold of him with my ice and coating him before lunging through the flaming doorway. . The enemy begins firing at me, forcing me to use more ice to defend. I run, holding JC within my ice, behind the volley of black suits. One by one, they are obliterated as they attempt to shield me, leaving only JC and myself. However, I¡¯ve reached my goal. Across the grassy yard I reach the second of the two trucks that had broken through the front gate. After throwing myself and JC in, I toss the dead driver outside and take his place. With JC fastened into the passenger seat, I put the truck into drive and step on the gas. Just as I do, the truck inside the house explodes. Flaming rubble scatters throughout the yard, setting the magnificent cherry blossom trees ablaze. Several of the intruders are blown away by the blast, the others running in disarray, engulfed in flames. My ice evaporates as suddenly as the shadows of the black suits when the heat reaches the inside of the truck. I drive through the panicked crowd of intruders, hitting several. Powered by adrenaline, I hold the wheel strong and whip the truck through the broken gate and onto the road, flooring the gas pedal. The truck speeds down the road toward a sudden curve, made noticeable only by the truck¡¯s headlights. However, the adrenaline and heat wavers and my body freezes. It isn¡¯t the fact that I¡¯ve never driven a vehicle before, or the cold finally settling into my pajamas, but something else. I try to force my hands to move, but the very act of moving them feels more challenging than even the deep dream world¡¯s machinations. As the curve approaches, I stare wide-eyed at the rocky ditch ahead. Suddenly, something touches my left hand. Despite the freezing temperature, the hand supporting mine resonates a warmth I have longed for. The one who has supported me with his comments since the very beginning of my self-satisfying journey, expresses his and everyone else¡¯s support through a single touch. His warmth lights a small fire within me, meant to break the curse of the endless cycle set upon me in the deep dream world. I now realize that I forced myself into that cycle throughout my journey, allowing my fear to cloud the warm feelings I shared with my supporters. I let myself stagnate because I lost sight of the exchange of passion, focusing only on my terminality. Aside from relying too much on my father to save me, I also relied too much on my ability to suffer in silence- through hard work verging on machinic drive. Perhaps that is the reason my body so often succumbs to freezing- not because of my health, but because I turned away from this warmth. The dazed JC holds my hand firm and guides the wheel clockwise, steering into the turn. The nerves in my arms awaken, and I spin the wheel just enough to navigate the curve. His hand falls limp next to my leg as he breathes out a short sigh of relief before closing his eyes. bridge The small black sofa provides a much-needed relief from the cold, despite its dense leather exterior. JC had insisted I sit on the only piece of furniture in the small western-styled apartment while he procured hot tea, and after an hour driving that stuffy old diesel truck, I¡¯d been happy to oblige. Once we¡¯d made it into town, JC woke, tended to his wounds, and directed me to a quiet residential area uptown. He decided we should ditch the truck and make the three-block trek to his apartment by foot, to which I reluctantly agreed. The biting cold made the walk as miserable as I¡¯d imagined, though JC seemed to be handling it much worse than me. Nonetheless, we reached the quaint apartment complex without spotting a single person or freezing to death, and now I¡¯m sitting in this minimally heated apartment with a small pillow held snug in my lap. After several minutes JC returns to the living area with two cups. His hair is still disheveled, and his face matted with dirt and dried blood. His dirtied suit somehow still bears a professional visage, thanks to the polite demeanor he presents as he hands me my cup before sitting on the floor and sipping his own. The tea fills my chilled bones with warmth, allowing me to relax and let out a sigh. As I silently watch him through the steam rising from my cup, I wonder how unkempt my curly hair must look. ¡°So, how did you know I was driving the truck?¡± he asks, setting his cup of tea on the small table between us. Following suit, I look him in the eyes with a small grin. ¡°Your hints aren¡¯t as subtle as you think, you know?¡± He chuckles, looking down at his tea. ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t a guarantee you¡¯d read those comments.¡± ¡°But I think you must have known I would,¡± I mutter, my cheeks slightly reddening. As he looks up at me curiously, I avert my eyes. ¡°Anyway, I thought you had to be close by. In Mary¡¯s world, you brought us together; it¡¯s your job, isn¡¯t it? To guide us¡­ that¡¯s why you had to bring her to me this time as well, to shorten our wavelengths.¡± ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± he answers with a short nod. ¡°But, how?¡± I plead, gripping the pant legs of my pajamas. How could you share a wavelength with her, knowing she wants her heart back? And to bring us together despite our differing goals, is it because she¡¯s not the real Mary?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know about her being real or fake and what difference that makes,¡± he replies, tapping his cup with a finger. ¡°It¡¯s like you said, though. I serve as a bridge between you two, and it is my job to bring you together. The last time, I brought Mary to you unknowingly; it was her intuition as well as your interactions in the deep dream world that shortened your wavelength. The dynamic is a bit different this time, but ultimately a carry-over of her world: you both want to see each other- in this case, though, you both want the other¡¯s heart¡­¡± I feel a stirring in my chest at his words as he pauses, glancing to check on me as if he¡¯d said something he shouldn¡¯t have. ¡°Well, I suppose I shouldn¡¯t speak for you- it¡¯s just my working assumption, after all. I don¡¯t wish to see either of your hearts taken away, for what it¡¯s worth.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what I should do,¡± I respond, holding my head above the teacup and allowing the steam to fog my eyes over. ¡°We¡¯ll get into that in a bit,¡± he answers calmly. ¡°As I was saying, I provided the bridge for you two to meet. I found her rallying a group of NPC¡¯s, apparently protesting the extreme weather as an environmental issue, and convinced her to let me guide them to your mansion. She wouldn¡¯t have been able to find and meet you face to face if I hadn¡¯t quite literally broken through the wall for her. I shortened your wavelength, using my understanding of both of your desires. However, I do not think you are on the same wavelength yet.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not?¡± I ask, looking up with watery eyes. ¡°Of course, not,¡± he answers with a confident smirk. ¡°There¡¯s a deeper meaning to wavelengths than just your physical distance. It¡¯s going to take more than just meeting and talking, I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°That makes sense,¡± I reply, looking back toward my tea despite the remnants of steam still assailing my eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve probably widened the gap if anything, thanks to the number of times you managed to- well, put her plans on ice.¡± I show him an annoyed pout as a reward for his attempt at lightening the mood. ¡°I mean, especially now after you¡¯ve broken the cycle created in your world,¡± he follows up while clearing his throat, trying to regain his usual demeanor. ¡°So, it really won¡¯t reset now, right?¡± I ask, looking him in the eye seriously. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t call upon your ice in order to protect your life again, I¡¯d imagine,¡± he answers plainly. ¡°Your time should flow naturally from now on- we¡¯ll have to make sure it does, actually. That, and we have to bring Mary to the same wavelength as us, like last time.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°But Mary lost despite that¡­ are you sure that¡¯s what we should do?¡± I say, my eyes narrowing. ¡°This world is significantly different, so there¡¯s no telling how it will react, but it¡¯s the only way to get her to stop aiming for your life, isn¡¯t it?¡± he says, raising a brow. ¡°We can figure out the rest later. For example, how we¡¯re going to deal with this ¡°Princess Apocalypse¡± business.¡± His voice trails off as he withdraws his phone and focuses his attention on its LCD screen. ¡°I think it¡¯s actually ¡®Apocalyptic Princess¡¯,¡± I mumble before sipping my tea. ¡°Eh, other way sounds better,¡± he says off-handedly, not looking away as he scrolls furiously through the browser on his smartphone. ¡°That¡¯s some way to talk to the savior of this world¡­¡± I mumble even lower, careful not to let my pout turn into a smile. ¡°Might want to put that idea in the deep-freeze for now, your highness,¡± he says, blinking intensely at whatever he¡¯s reading. ¡°The sun may have peeked through the clouds when you put that song out, but it¡¯s past midnight now and tons of people are freezing to death throughout the country. If Mary¡¯s world is any indication, the NPC¡¯s are going to catch on that you have something to do with the change, despite being the ¡®god¡¯ of this changed world. Not to mention Mary¡¯s group¡­ it looks like they¡¯re already assembling their pitchforks, playing on some sort of manmade environmental crisis as the cause. It¡¯s just an excuse to blame things on the Shibutani Group- namely, on its newly ascended daughter, which just happens to have been identified as the net idol Shiburei.¡± My eyes widen at his words as I grasp the situation. ¡°What should I do to stop it? I¡¯m not consciously doing anything, so-¡± ¡°The question is, do we focus on aiding this manufactured world of yours, or bringing Mary to our side and overcoming your dreams?¡± he mutters, holding his chin with one hand while continuing to look at his phone. ¡°Or maybe we can accomplish both¡­¡± ¡°What is it?¡± I ask, lips trembling. ¡°What are you thinking?¡± ¡°If your music was able to cause such a stir, perhaps we could bring the public together, and bring them to your side all at once¡­¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± I ask, thinking about his earlier hints. ¡°Oh, your comment did mention playing with The Blinking Owl, but what did you mean?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± he says, still glued to his phone. ¡°I just¡­ after seeing what happened when you released the new video, I had a feeling something big like that could make a miracle happen for all that are watching you.¡± ¡°A miracle for those watching me?¡± I mumble, dumbstruck. ¡°The thought of so many people relying on me is just¡­¡± ¡°A lot for a sickly, inexperienced wealthy girl, isn¡¯t it?¡± he says softly, finally looking up from the screen, the white light illuminating an expression softer than his voice. ¡°But maybe this is part of the key to winning this game of Aku¡¯s. He wouldn¡¯t just give his power to anybody, after all. I think it makes sense for him to want you to prove yourself as a worthy leader, truly deserving of the power of a god.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not something you mentioned before,¡± I stammer, unable to mask my nerves. ¡°It could be¡­ that I¡¯m starting to remember something important,¡± he responds with nearly identical hesitance, his expression shifting to something more distant. ¡°I just think¡­ he has very high expectations for us, I suppose.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± I raise my voice with some courage upon reading his labored expression. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing one of us is the prophetic son of god while the other is an actual god¡­ we should be fine as long as the son of god isn¡¯t too busy hitting the pipe and prophesying on the internet.¡± I crack a poorly manufactured smile, at which he stares dumbly before finally letting out a hearty laugh. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be the one helping you, aren¡¯t I?¡± he says, wiping the corners of his dirt-matted eyes. My forced smile breaks into a genuine one as I hold the small pillow close to my chest. ¡°Support should be a two-way street, you know?¡± ¡°Right, right,¡± he replies, having regained his upright attitude. ¡°Which is why you¡¯re going to show your support for all of your subjects- I mean, your fans, by playing a joint show with the famed band- The Blinking Owl. Once I send this text, it¡¯s a done deal for tomorrow.¡± ¡°You¡­ how?¡± I inquire, stunned as I watch his finger slowly fall onto the screen. ¡°Well, I actually spent some time in professional agency before all this,¡± he answers with a smirk as he presses down on the touch screen. ¡°It¡¯s a little fuzzy, but the model I managed was a real piece of work.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t imagine you being anything less than scary to work with¡­¡± I quip, grinning facetiously. ¡°That aside, we should get you studied up on the songs they play on set nowadays, and then get you some rest.¡± He stubbornly changes the subject to spite my humor, and gets up. Still fiddling with his phone, he slumps down against the base of the sofa, his back brushing against my cold legs. I nearly jerk my legs away due to the sudden shock, but the warmth he radiates curbs my skittish tendencies. The cold still hasn¡¯t bothered me much, but even more than the tea, his body heat still serves as a genuine source of comfort. We spend the next hour huddled closely, watching music videos of the band I¡¯ll apparently be performing with tomorrow. The joy we share in relearning the unforgettable upbeat songs helps to calm my nerves. Before long, we begin watching through the same videos a third time, and JC props the phone up against his unfinished cup of tea before folding his arms in a relaxed position. ¡°Say, JC¡­¡± I whisper, the day¡¯s stress taking its toll and rendering me sleepier by the second. ¡°I clearly remember your countless comments wishing me well, so I¡¯m fairly certain we had as least that interaction in our real lives, but¡­ to what extent did we all know each other before this? And how much of our memories are a product of the dreamscape?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a great question, and I¡¯d love to find the answer myself,¡± he replies, the interest showing in his voice despite sharing in my weariness. ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­ how much of what I¡¯m remembering is true¡­¡± His voice trails off, nearing an inaudible murmur. ¡°I wish¡­ the truth wasn¡¯t so cruel.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I crane my neck, hoping to hear him better- however, he doesn¡¯t repeat himself. ¡°About that owl,¡± I continue, my rambling words commanded by delirious thoughts. ¡°Was that some strange way of finding me before we were on the same wavelength¡­?¡± Silence follows, coupled only by his rhythmic breaths. Feeling as peaceful as I had when I¡¯d fallen asleep next to Mary on the train, I follow him into a deep sleep- certain it will be a dreamless one. melting point I hadn¡¯t had any idea where I would be going to play this rushed concert. Therefore, my shock upon being escorted into a massive baseball stadium by black suits had certainly been plastered on my face. Earlier in the morning, I had woken up to JC¡¯s phone buzzing with an incoming call. To our surprise, the caller ended up being my father, who instructed JC to meet up with his men. He had heard about my involvement on the internet, where apparently the entire country was talking about it. He was brief with JC, not allowing him to ask any questions on my behalf, and only left one message that held any sort of sincerity- ¡°please, help keep my daughter safe. And do not let anything become of the other girl until I¡¯ve arrived.¡± With that, the phone call had ended, leaving the two of us to ponder. I explained my relationship with my father, and my misgivings about him in this world. JC affirmed those misgivings. ¡°Like I¡¯ve been saying since the beginning, we cannot account for the behavior of NPC¡¯s. Even if this one is tailored to your world, we should be wary. At the very least, he could have only gotten my phone number from your phone- in which case, he lied about your phone being lost in the snowstorm. For some reason, he didn¡¯t want us to be in contact¡­ I wonder why, though.¡± After that, JC insisted I take a shower while he goes out to get me a change of clothes, his glistening hair and clean white button-down suggesting he had just taken one himself. The shower offered little relief to the perpetual coldness, and by the time I finished, he was knocking on the door. Upon stepping out wrapped in a fresh towel, I discovered the shopping bag lying just inside the doorway. The light-blue collared top and pink skirt suited me better than I¡¯d expected, aided by matching blue stockings and a white coat. The only article I hesitated with was the pink heels. Not even in my recitals had I ever donned something so flashy. As I wondered what my father would think of them, JC insisted I get ready to leave. While we waited for my father¡¯s men to pick us up, I pretended to succumb to the cold, crossing my arms and pulling the hood of my jacket over my freshly curled hair. Only a few people passed us, too distracted by the cold to recognize me, before the car arrived and brought us into town where snow and ice covered everything. An over-abundance of cherry-blossom trees served as the only notable scenery, despite being mostly covered in snow themselves. Even here, there many times more trees than people on the roads. Those who did brave the extreme cold by foot or bicycle, moved almost robotically. Crowds of people had already begun to form around the stadium, leaving me biting my lips while we made for the entrance. The suits managed to shut the gate behind the car as we followed the underground tunnel, parking in a corner at its end. We were then met atop an elevator by bundled-up concert organizers. They treated me like a celebrity guest, wasting no time in showing me to the main stage- the snow-covered field, where an exquisite, heart-shaped stage lay centerpiece. Until hearing the organizers make small talk, I hadn¡¯t realized it was the most popular baseball stadium in the country. This only gave rise to more nerves, and as we subsequently met the famous band in our backstage area, I found myself stricken by an unsettling nausea. Standing weak-kneed in a small crowd of bandmates and producers, I try to respond politely to the stunning red-haired girl who led the band as their vocalist icon. However, too many thoughts race for me to pretend to be socially sound, so our conversation ends with her heartfelt expression of support for what I¡¯m trying to accomplish. What I¡¯m trying to accomplish today- that very thought is what is making my mind run like a washing machine¡¯s spin cycle. My goal should be specific, but it feels vague. Moreover, JC put me up to it. It¡¯s true that I feel compelled to do something for the world I changed, but I can¡¯t help but wonder if there is any meaning in doing so. Why should I need to influence the people if the end goal is to leave this world to fade into dust while I return to the real world? If this is some kind of simulated trial, how can I be sincere about helping those I intend to forsake? Despite that, my life is on the line. But, so is Mary¡¯s. And there¡¯s no reason I deserve to live any more than she does. So, why is JC taking my side? Presumably because it¡¯s my turn this time, and it¡¯s me against the fake Mary. Though, he did say he doesn¡¯t wish for either of us to lose our hearts. What exactly does he want, then? What is his true role? I glance at the smiling man who¡¯s having a jovial conversation with one of the event¡¯s producers. He catches my glance and shoots me a quick wink, as if to tell me to relax. There must be a reason Mary can¡¯t trust him, and a reason he worked so hard to gain her trust in her world. Somehow, he has guided us flawlessly this whole time. Despite that, Mary didn¡¯t win. And if I don¡¯t take the most extreme measure, it seems unlikely I will either. Our goals always seem to match, though, and I can¡¯t help but feel that he has some grand plan buried within his polite confidence. That whatever he may be hiding, the reason Mary inherently distrusts him, could instead be a reason to trust him fully. With that in mind, I smile weakly at him, resolving myself to the task at hand. After an hour or so of practice, we prepare to take the stage. My show-mates lead the way behind a line of security mixed with black suits. We emerge from underground and enter a makeshift gated path leading to the stage. The field, as well as the stadium seating, is consumed with people roaring in unison as we make our way to the center. I simply stare in shock at the infinite faces of clamoring NPC¡¯s, prompting JC to take my hand and lead me up the stage¡¯s steps. Ascending the steps behind my show-mates, I reluctantly separate from JC and find the expensive black piano at the middle. The hard wooden bench calms down my shaking legs as I sit and observe the bustling crowd. The gate surrounds the stage, accompanied by countless security guards who are doing their best to keep the crowd from toppling the gate over. Compared to them, I¡¯m severely underdressed for this winter weather. Everybody aside from myself, JC, and the black suits seem to be struggling against the sub-freezing temperature. Whereas, I myself am sweating, a warm nausea filling my stomach as my hands shake relentlessly. Without any warning or introduction, The Blinking Owl¡¯s vocalist raises her mic and signals the band to begin performing. They open with one of their most popular, and upbeat songs. The massive crowd sings and dances along with the lively performance, while I distance myself from the entire spectacle to try and regain my lost nerves. There isn¡¯t much opportunity for me to accompany this song with piano, so we had elected to wait for the next song. As the first comes to an end with uproarious applause, I take a deep breath and force my frozen nerves to wake. I¡¯ve done this too many times in the deep dream world for something like this to stop me. Still not entirely sure of who or what I¡¯m playing for, I strike down on the keys, providing a stoic intro to the second song. The band follows me flawlessly as practiced, and we venture into the song with every bit of passion the crowd had been expecting. I play as I had in the deep dream world, but my performance isn¡¯t as flawless as the one I recorded yesterday. Luckily, the other instrumentals mix enough to mask my lack of precision, and the song ends with even more applause than the first. A third, slower-paced song begins. As my part begins, I rush in a panic, and quickly grow self-conscious of my pace and accuracy, unable to hide behind the other instruments. I fall behind trying to compensate, only to overcompensate to catch back up. As this cycle bounces back and forth, I become a slave to my efforts, exactly as I had in the deep dream world- something I thought I¡¯d overcome. While I immerse myself in the frantic movements of my fingers, a single crack of thunder resounds from somewhere outside the stadium. Rain begins to fall onto the crowd, which withers, already weakened by the cold. Several bolts of lightning find their home amongst the crowd, causing people to scatter in panic, running over others. Brawls begin to break out across the stadium seating as well as the field. The cause of this becomes clear as I discover JC step onto the stage, pointing toward home plate, where a group storms through the sea of panicked people. There¡¯s no doubt about it- she¡¯s here. She must have taken advantage of my hesitant playing to weaponize the dreamscape in her own way. If that¡¯s the case, though, I just have to take it back. Fake or not, I can¡¯t let her steal the world from me, and I can¡¯t let her bring more harm to the people of my world. With gnashed teeth I continue playing, prompting the hesitant band to continue. Our tempo rises with passion rivaling the intensifying storm, and we finish the third song, leading directly into the fourth- my song, Winking Owl. The storm continues as Mary comes into view, pushing through the crowd toward us. The crowd begins fighting back, picking her group off one by one. This time, the vocalist sings my melancholic acoustic song as I play the piano, accompanied by minimal instrumentals. As I make out Mary¡¯s face within the crowd, my courage grows, and I sing into the mic set atop the piano. Just as I do, my fingers flow across the keys smoother, emitting a more precise and striking melody. The crowd, which had largely turned its attention to Mary¡¯s group, sings along almost in complete unison. Conscious of their response, I continue my precise playing, careful to maintain the rhythm circulating the stadium. Mary¡¯s group makes significant headway in their march toward us thanks to the crowd¡¯s immersion. However, the heavy rain turns to something else as we approach the song¡¯s climax. I sing the most chilling, passionate note of the song, just as the falling rain begins to freeze. As it falls, the sea of people become covered in a blanket of ice, which spreads like wildfire across the stadium. One by one the people find themselves immobilized under the coat of ice. The collective rhythm fades away at once, leaving only us performers to finish the sad, melodic song. The song ends as I stare in wide-eyed desperation at the keys, as if pleading for them to undo the icy wave. Tears stream down my cheeks before freezing as I look upon the stage. Only the place where I sit at the piano has not been frozen solid. The band members are all frozen solid, as is JC and the black suits. Only the sound of my weeping breath resonates through the frozen air. I stand up to survey the field, and confirm that she, too, has been frozen solid.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I return to my seat slowly, my arms falling limply to my side and my head hanging. Once again, I¡¯ve resorted to freezing the world due to my own failure. For some reason, though, I¡¯ve left only myself unfrozen this time. There¡¯s no point playing anymore, is there? I wouldn¡¯t be playing for anybody, so why am I still here? Why did the world not restart once more? Admittedly, I don¡¯t want to do all this another time, so maybe that¡¯s why. I don¡¯t want to have to shoulder so much responsibility, to play for so many people, anymore. So, what should I do, now that I am here alone? Perhaps this what I wanted all along. To play on such a stage to my heart¡¯s content, with none watching, none to enjoy the song but myself. All along, I thought I¡¯d simply had the desire to live. However, deep down, it¡¯s likely that I never truly believed I¡¯d live. I¡¯ve really only wanted to freeze my time, to enjoy my life before it runs out. If this is the result of that wish, then this opportunity is nothing more than one made of blissful surrender. And so, with nobody around to hear, no one left to play for but myself, I bring my cold fingers to the keys. The chords of Sunscape play lightly, tumbling along like a snowball bouncing down a hill before shattering. My voice emerges weakly as the song travels into its first phase, and I play unlike ever before. Without the urgency of the deep dream world, the pressure of my recording studio and bedroom, and the expectations placed upon me- not by my father, or my fans, but by myself. Truly, I was the only one ever expecting anything from anybody. The shadows compelling me were none other than my own. My father¡¯s sinful actions were compelled by my selfishness, and Mary¡¯s heart was stolen as a result of that selfishness. And now that I have had my wish granted, I can do nothing but play this song until my selfishness has been satisfied. Whatever may become of mine and JC¡¯s plan, I can only play this one song for myself. I enter an otherworldly trance as I play, singing like a carefree child. I imagine the faces of my late mother and my broken father watching me proudly as I gleefully perform. The cold seems to dissipate as I open my eyes, free to observe the world without worry of losing my focus. The chords continue ringing, and with each of them, the temperature escalates. Through the clouds, the sun emerges, and expands across the cloudy sky. Engrossed by the sun¡¯s sudden outbreak, I continue the song to its climax. As I do, the clouds vacate the sky, and the snow and ice scaling the stadium gradually dissipate- revealing a field of pink grass underneath the feet of the freed crowd of NPC¡¯s who collectively reel while gasping for air. The bandmates, too, move once more as the ice melts into gleaming puddles on the stage. They slump down, dropping their instruments as they struggle to catch their breath. JC checks on his hair, recovering rather quickly. He surveys the murmuring crowd, before turning back to me as I finish holding the song¡¯s final note. ¡°Well, you really did melt their hearts,¡± he says, smiling at me. ¡°Now, there¡¯s only-¡± He¡¯s cut off as something slams into the side of his head. A black leather boot and slender leg flashes across the top of the stage¡¯s steps as he falls down them. A girl with incomparable beauty emerges and takes JC¡¯s place atop the steps. Her long black hair blows fiercely in the wind brought forth by the sudden scattering of clouds. Her black blouse and pants are tattered and void of any weapons. However, her pale face emblazoned by the beaming sun behind her bares an expression beyond fierce. I stand and run toward her, my eyes widening with realization. It¡¯s like this is the first time I¡¯ve gotten a good look at her face in my world- the first time I¡¯ve actually seen her expression. She¡¯s slow to react, surprised by my sudden advance. She grits her teeth and clenches her fist as she lunges for me. However, I¡¯m too fast. As if all hesitation had been melted away from me, I throw myself at her faster than she can throw her punch. Instead of punching back, though, I dive into her swinging arms, and wrap my own frail arms around her slender back. Her face and body go still with shock, and a short gasp reaches my ear. I hold onto her firmly, yet as gently as I can, burying my face in her shoulder as she slowly brings her hands to rest upon my back. ¡°I was wrong, wasn¡¯t I?¡± I whisper through choppy breaths. ¡°There¡¯s nothing fake about you, Mary. That was my foolish misunderstanding, all along.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°You only wanted to live,¡± I continue in a shaky voice, cutting her off while maintaining a firm grip on her. ¡°You¡¯re not any different from me. It isn¡¯t that you were against me because you weren¡¯t the real you. You just don¡¯t want your heart taken from you. The dreamscape used that, but that doesn¡¯t mean you aren¡¯t real, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ right.¡± ¡°I understand now,¡± I sob, still holding tight. ¡°In the last round you absorbed the part of you that split off when your heart was taken. Then, there isn¡¯t any such thing as a fake or real Mary¡­ you¡¯re just you. So, when I told you I was the one who had your heart, it simply triggered the part of you that wishes to fight for her freedom even if it means setting the world itself ablaze- the part you regained in your world. You were on my side until you learned that, because you realized my victory could only come if I take the rest of your heart¡­ isn¡¯t that right?¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± she mutters, her quivering as I feel a tear fall from her cheek onto mine. ¡°So, why are you clinging to me, unless you really mean to¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to take it,¡± I reply, my voice unwavering as I nestle my head against her shoulder. ¡°I won¡¯t take it, no matter what happens to me or this world. We promised to help each other if things got scary, right? So, can you trust me?¡± She hesitates, her hands trembling. ¡°I¡­¡± her voice trails off, and she finally brings her arms around me, returning my hug. ¡°I think I can, yes.¡± At that moment, I feel something twinge in my heart as it presses against hers. The ice that had covered my heart, melts away within me. ¡°What is this?¡± Mary inquires, still holding onto me. ¡°I feel something stirring around my heart¡­ like getting out of an ice bath.¡± ¡°You had ice protecting your heart, too?¡± I exclaim, shocked. ¡°Did I? I guess that means you melted it, huh?¡± she mutters, chuckling through her nose. ¡°But why would you-¡± my voice come halts as the twinge in my chest turns to an acute pain, staggering me. ¡°Mirei? What is- ah!¡± Mary grunts with pain, and we both slump to the stage floor, grasping at our hearts. The crowd collectively gasps, but only one person approaches us. ¡°Such an ending never would have worked, would it?¡± a familiar voice sounds from beyond the steps of the stage. My eyes grow wide as the tapping of footsteps grows closer until his figure emerges. ¡°Father¡­?¡± ¡°My dear¡­ it¡¯s time we settled this.¡± His stern, yet caring voice matches his calm, determined expression. ¡°Now, leave everything to your father.¡± With words laced with something sinister despite their former meaning, my father crouches to a knee in front of the crumpled Mary, and withdraws an expensive-looking dagger. ¡°Father¡­what are you¡­¡± I mutter, struggling to speak. My heart feels as though it¡¯s being beaten like a snare drum, tightening up with each throb. ¡°Please relax, dear,¡± he says as he wrestles Mary¡¯s hands away from her chest and forces her straight onto her back. ¡°Your time truly is moving forward now. As you wished, you melted away the ice that froze you in place, so you must now bear the heat of the great power you used to move yourself.¡± Mary fights against his strong grasp, trying to wrench herself away from him. He responds, twisting her body as their scuffle leads them to the steps. He pushes her down two steps, slamming her back into one of the corners. As a stifled cry leaves her, I sit up and look dazedly toward the sun, whose prominence seems to be growing with each second. ¡°Mirei, look how the sun is moving,¡± my father groans, struggling to break through Mary¡¯s desperate defense. ¡°Now that your time is moving, there isn¡¯t much of it left. Whatever your plan was, it only succeeds if you let me retrieve the rest of this heart for you.¡± The sun shines brighter than I¡¯ve ever seen, lighting up the world as if for the first time. My father¡¯s words do not surprise me, but they do strike me- as if the answer had never been so clear, the solution so opportune. Finding an opening, he punches Mary¡¯s chest, just above her heart. Her arms fall limply to her sides as tears streak silently down her face, a pitiful cry stagnating as soon as it leaves her lips. I force myself to my feet to get a better look at Mary. Despite losing strength due to the pain, her expression isn¡¯t showing any signs of defeat. Of course, she hasn¡¯t given up. She never would. That makes it clear what I should do, for both of our sakes. My father¡¯s thin, lustrous blade begins its downward arc into her chest. Just before it reaches her flesh, however, his body freezes, and he drops the knife down the steps and into the luscious pink grass. ¡°Kuh¡­ Mirei¡­ why?¡± he huffs, coughing blood onto the thin spear of ice coming out of his chest. ¡°Even if you aren¡¯t really my father¡­¡± I say, my voice shaking as I fight back tears. ¡°I still can¡¯t help but feel like it¡¯s you. Which is why I want to say a proper goodbye to you.¡± He turns to me, eyes wide and struggling to breath. ¡°But I only ever wanted to protect you¡­¡± ¡°Yes, and I thank you for being my protector all this time, Father,¡± I reply, lowering my guard and allowing the spear of ice to melt into a puddle around him. ¡°You¡¯ve done so much for me¡­ and you¡¯ve always been there for me. Even though you were hurting, too, you always took care of me first, and me alone. And¡­ I took that for granted. I let you be the scapegoat for my selfish desire, and drove you to ruin Mary¡¯s life. This is all my fault, which is why I have to make it right, now- I can¡¯t rely on you anymore, okay?¡± He takes a step toward me, tears rolling down his quivering cheeks. The devastation in his expression forces the tears from me like a faucet. ¡°MIrei¡­ my dear Mirei¡­ I love you,¡± he groans, struggling to lift his hand toward mine. I offer him a weak smile, and extend my hand toward his. However, his own hand stops before they meet, and his eyes flicker like candlelight. Suddenly, his body is engulfed in flame, or rather, it becomes flame right before my eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve done well up until now, Miss Mirei,¡± a different voice seethes from within the humanoid swirl of flames. Its deep whisper pours from wisps within the flames, and it begins floating like a balloon toward the overbearing sun. My father¡¯s body is simply gone, leaving nothing but the floating shroud of flames. ¡°You should have waited until I obtained the heart for you, then killed him,¡± the familiar voice hisses with satisfaction. ¡°Did you do this because you realized it was me imitating your father?¡± ¡°You were convincing, but you seemed to know too much about this world,¡± I answer, glaring at Aku¡¯s unsettling figure as he glides toward the sun. ¡°Well, I did emulate him perfectly, so that nothing I did would be any different than what he would have done,¡± he says, his thin wisps forming a malevolent grin. ¡°You can rest assured in that, at least.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s why I did it¡­¡± I reply, looking down. ¡°Not just because you needed to be dealt with, but because I needed to settle things with him before he committed any more sins for my sake.¡± ¡°Ah, in that case,¡± he says in a matter-of-fact tone. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll find yourself more callused by the time we next meet. There isn¡¯t much time before this sun falls upon your cold, broken world.¡± With that, Aku¡¯s figure shoots like a comet in reverse toward the sun. A sound like bubbling lava emanates in the distance, and the sun blasts patches of itself around like a firework display. The screams of the crowd reach me, taking my attention away from the daunting spectacle. ¡°The sun is falling to the earth!¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to be burned!¡± ¡°First the ice, now the sun will destroy us!¡± ¡°Please save us, Apocolyptic Princess!¡± ¡°Hurry, take Mary and get in the car!¡± The last voice steals my attention from the masses, and I look to see JC making for the abandoned car. The black suits are dissipating into shadows around him and floating away like Aku had, but the horde of NPC¡¯s have nearly broken through the barrier. Despite my heart searing with pain, I force my body to move down the steps, reaching for Mary. Before I reach her, though, she manages to sit up, and grasps my hand, her expression as determined as ever. I swing her arm along as I stride down the steps, and together we run through the pink grass and throw ourselves into the backseat of the classic car. JC slams on the gas pedal, whipping the car down the path and through the underground tunnel. As he speeds toward the tunnel¡¯s exit, Mary and I lean on each other, clutching our chests as we gasp for breath. We quickly reach the outside, where small fires have already broken out amidst the pink grass and cherry-blossom trees lining the road. ¡°The sun really is descending onto the earth¡­¡± JC mutters, gazing with awe at the spectacle. ¡°Well then, where to?¡± Still clutching my chest, I raise my opposite arm, and point straight ahead as my choppy breaths grow deeper. ¡°Isn¡¯t that¡­ obvious? We¡¯re going¡­ right into that sun.¡± flightbound JC blinks at me in the mirror, his facial muscles twitching. ¡°Uh¡­ e-excuse me? I must have misheard- I thought you just said something about driving toward the falling sun?¡± ¡°Right,¡± I declare, still grasping at my heart with pained breaths. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯m the only one that can stop it. And I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve thought of this, but if we¡¯re after Aku¡¯s power, that¡¯s the place to go, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± he mutters, trailing off into a deep sigh. ¡°I was thinking that. But still, this is crazy! Mary, don¡¯t you agr-¡± ¡°I say shut up and drive,¡± Mary growls, her breathing even rougher than mine. Her supportive and thoughtful demeanor from the beginning of my round is gone, leaving her true self bare before me. Just as I catch myself staring at her fatigued visage, she shoots me a devious smirk. ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯m giving up for you, princess,¡± she says in a near whisper, her stubbornness emanating from her coarse voice. ¡°Helping each other when it¡¯s scary is one thing, but if I have a shot at this, I might just snatch it right out from under your nose.¡± I look at her plainly, blinking, until the corners of my mouth crack open on their own. ¡°Ehe, let¡¯s have a race then, Mary.¡± ¡°So, you say, but I¡¯m the one racing here, ya know?¡± JC quips, furrowing his brow at us. ¡°Right, can you keep going for us, mister driver?¡± I jab, winking at him through the mirror. ¡°I¡¯ll figure something else out once we¡¯re close enough, so in the meantime let¡¯s just try to stay cool. Can you turn on the AC?¡± ¡°It¡¯s already blowing hot air, so why don¡¯t you use your own cooling system, Princ-¡± ¡°Good idea!¡± I exclaim, clapping my shaking hands. Concentrating on my arms, I create several branches of ice. The branches reach the car¡¯s ceiling and floorboard, and spread into a thick layer of ice- covering nearly everything but the windows. The previously arid atmosphere turns cool instantly. As the temperature decreases, Mary¡¯s condition seems to stabilize. Her breathing is still ragged, but she seems to be in control of it, and her flushed face is regaining some of its peachy complexion. ¡°Alright, much better,¡± JC cheers energetically. ¡°Never let your driver overheat, they say. Wouldn¡¯t want me suffering a heat stroke with such precious cargo.¡± ¡°Remember when I said to shut up and drive¡­¡± ¡°Aye, I do, I just thought we should be thanking our savior- don¡¯t you agree?¡± ¡°Tch.¡± I can¡¯t help but laugh at their exchange, even as the emblazoned sun begins to fill the frame of the windshield. While telling myself not to grow fearful by the impending doom, I remember something. ¡°Ah, JC! Let me see your phone!¡± ¡°Huh? Why not ask for Mary¡¯s?¡± he replies, glancing at her in the mirror. My eyes fall on her distressed figure, nearly half of her clothing torn to reveal much of her legs and torso. As if sensing our gazes, she turns toward the window, crossing her arms and legs as she exhales what sounds like steam from her nose. ¡°¡­don¡¯t have it, jackass,¡± she mutters, her low voice shaking along with her reddened cheeks. ¡°Ah, right,¡± JC responds, smiling awkwardly with closed eyes while running a fidgeting hand through his hair. I find myself grinning dumbly, my eyes stuck to her perfect figure. Remaining quiet, JC holds his smartphone in my face. I snap out of my stupor just as Mary catches my gaze. When our eyes lock, I realize that my own condition has improved. Because of her unintentional display of charm, I hadn¡¯t even noticed. Hurriedly snatching the phone, I bury my blushing face into its display and begin tapping away. ¡°Well, this is certainly your world, Mirei,¡± JC remarks, breaking the silence after some time. I glance up from the phone and gaze out the window. The country road we¡¯re traveling is surrounded by pink grass, lined with scattered cherry-blossom trees. Small flares fall from the red-orange horizon, scorching the beautiful grass and trees. However, even amidst them, small patches of snow still remain, gradually melting away before my eyes. I look up, curious, and discover an anomaly- a light snow is still falling from the sky alongside the flares, melting into rain and evaporating into gas before it can fall to the earth. My jaw hangs open as I stare at the sky, blinking in disbelief. ¡°Mary, do you see?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s eerie,¡± she replies in a low voice. ¡°Even more-so than my burning, storming world¡­¡± Her voice trails off as she stares out the window with a melancholic demeanor. I want to say something to her, but instead recall my objective and quickly return to the phone. ¡°You know¡­¡± JC says after another brief silence. ¡°It really is amazing what you two have managed to make into reality, here.¡± I slowly look up upon hearing the severity of his tone, only to see an expression that I can only describe as complicated. Suddenly, the car¡¯s engine stalls, as if force-stopped. A noxious smell invades the car as it begins to teeter as if we were driving over small mounds on either side. ¡°I¡¯m afraid this is as far as I can take you,¡± JC declares, turning to us with a meek smile, sweat permeating his face. The car slows down, rocking back and forth before coming to a stop. ¡°See, the tires are melted down, and the gas is starting to burn, I think. That aside, the heat is really starting to get to me, despite your cold treatment, princess.¡± Indeed, his demeanor looks worse than Mary¡¯s had earlier. The sweat drips from his face, which bears something beyond that of lethargy. ¡°Let¡¯s get out, then!¡± I cry, hurriedly throwing my door open. While Mary follows, JC emits a languid chuckle, and turns to face the sun threatening to crash down upon us. ¡°So that¡¯s what you were using my phone for,¡± he mutters, resting his head against his seat. Suddenly, a crushing wind comes upon us from the west. A rapid beating noise follows as a black helicopter approaches, lowering itself. Passing us over, it hovers in the air in front of us, its wind creating a ripple throughout the surrounding pink grass. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you resourceful, Princess Apocalypse¡­¡± JC remarks with a smirk. I grin as I step outside, holding my hair down. ¡°Ehe, it¡¯s Apocalyptic Princess, remember? I just had to let my fans know I¡¯m planning to stop this and save this world, and that I needed their help. Now, get out so we can catch our new ride!¡± ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m at my limit, here,¡± he responds casually, staying his gaze on the beaming sun. ¡°This world is just too bright for someone as exceptionally normal as me. Your fates are too heavy for someone like me to hold in my hand, and your resolve shines far too bright for the likes of me to look upon. This is the result of your time moving once more- just look at how strongly the flame of your mortal life burns. The road ahead is simply too hot- it will burn right through my shoes, you see? Not all of us have such extreme burdens, after all. The road ahead is suited only for those who have proved themselves worthy. Isn¡¯t that right, Mary?¡± Mary stops her ascent through the open door, and looks at the back of his head with a difficult expression. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Mirei.¡± ¡°But Mary!¡± I cry, staggering across the rippling grass as I fight the wind on my way around the front of the car. Despite the wind¡¯s strength, the humid air burns my skin, forcing me to reinforce my body with a layer of ice. I reach the front of the car, and raise my head, pulling my hair away and shielding my eyes from the scattered dust. The driver¡¯s door has somehow opened, but I don¡¯t see Mary. Suddenly, her figure emerges from inside the door, holding JC¡¯s arms over her shoulders. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he shouts with an attentive voice, despite the disorientation written on his face. ¡°If you¡¯re going to sit the rest out, at least get away from the car before it blows up¡­ idiot.¡± Mary¡¯s voice is as fierce as her expression. Though clearly fighting debilitating pain in her chest, she looks stronger than ever. Her appearance alone fills me with hope. Ignoring her wind-whipped hair, she walks toward the helicopter, JC in tow. Bouncing my gaze from her, to the car, and then to helicopter, I follow, matching her stride-for-stride. We quickly reach the hovering helicopter, pushing our way through the wind. Glancing back to confirm our distance from the car, Mary finally drops JC onto the pink grass. With some effort, he sits up one knee, holding onto the grass to anchor himself. ¡°Whatever fate may await you at the end of this¡­¡± he mutters just loud enough to reach my ears. ¡°I want you both to know that I meant what I said. The strength you¡¯ve both displayed has been astounding. The worlds you¡¯ve created surpass anything we ever expected. I truly hope that I¡¯ll see you both in the next world, with the same strength¡­¡± The wind overpowers his voice as it trails off, and he simply smiles weakly at us. Shifting my gaze to Mary briefly, I offer the defeated man a smile and a short wave. ¡°Thank you for all of your support¡­ for everything,¡± I exclaim over the heavy winds. Maintaining my smile, I wink at him one last time. His smile breaks open, accompanied by a welling tear. He winks his watery eye at me, allowing the tear to break open with the wind. I shift my gaze back to Mary, who nods at me with confidence. Nodding back, I turn to the helicopter, hovering some ten feet off the ground. We take a running start, and together, leap toward its small opening. Both of us grasp onto the ledge of the helicopter, and with a cry we raise ourselves up and over the threshold. Rolling to our backs, we catch our breaths, both clutching at our chests again. The pain sears across my chest and back, threatening to sever my consciousness. However, the burning sun¡¯s waves lick my skin, reminding me why I must maintain my focus. As the helicopter gains altitude, I stand up into a crouching position, holding onto the ceiling to stabilize myself. Mary quickly follows, bending over and breathing heavily. ¡°So¡­ what will you do? Stop the sun, or go after Aku?¡± My fists clench as I focus on the snow falling around us, my eyes naturally averting her gaze. ¡°I¡­ I would like to do both.¡± ¡°What?¡± she asks, shocked. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you focus solely on reaching the goal?¡± I maintain my focus, letting the snowfall dissolve. However, before the heat evaporates it, it transforms into ice. The ice connects to form a great wall, shielding us from the impending sun¡¯s heat. As we grow closer, I will the wall of ice forward, throwing it toward the sun. However, it melts before it can reach the blazing light. ¡°Stronger¡­¡± I mutter, gritting my teeth. ¡°¡­has to be stronger.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Mirei!¡± Mary shouts. ¡°Are you listening to me? Why are you wasting energy like this?¡± ¡°Because¡­¡± I mutter, fighting bated breaths as I send three walls of ice on a futile trip to the sun. ¡°This is the world my dreams- no, my heart, created. I¡¯ve always been selfish, Mary. I¡¯ve only ever sought my own salvation. Because of that, people have suffered.¡± I turn my gaze to her, tears in my eyes. ¡°You lost everything¡­ because of me! Now, the people in this world are suffering. NPC¡¯s or not, they¡¯re feeling pain and the desire to live- just like you and me! I don¡¯t want to turn my back on anyone anymore, Mary. For once in my hopeless life, I have to take responsibility!¡± ¡°So¡­ you¡¯ll sacrifice yourself for an illusionary world?¡± she barks, shaking her head. ¡°You don¡¯t even know what will happen to this world if you¡¯re gone from it!¡± ¡°I won¡¯t sacrifice myself,¡± I reply, forming a weak smile. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die, remember? I¡¯ll take Aku¡¯s power, and protect this world until I leave from it. You¡¯ll still have your shot, so won¡¯t you help me?¡± Her face goes still, and her gaze shifts away from the burning sun behind me. As I wait for her answer, the helicopter stops moving and the heat becomes nearly unbearable. I glance in the cockpit, only to see a shadow dissipating where the pilot had been. The chopping sound of the helicopter¡¯s blade beating against the humid air gradually fades away. Mary has gone eerily pale, seemingly stricken by something. Her hand moves toward her chest, but she jerks it away, forming a fist instead. ¡°Listen, Mary¡­ if it weren¡¯t for you, I wouldn¡¯t have had the courage to change this world from the beginning.¡± My voice trembles as my eyes dig into hers. My hand, too, is compelled to clutch at my chest as it sears with a hot, sharp pain, burgeoning by the second. However, it stays in a firm, outstretched position, inviting her to take it. ¡°Without you helping me to face myself and move forward, I couldn¡¯t have become any stronger,¡± I continue, doing my best to harden my wavering voice. ¡°It¡¯s thanks to you, and JC, that I¡¯m able to take this thing on- that I can be strong enough to win this! So please, come with me!¡± ¡°Mirei¡­¡± she mutters, finally breaking from her distraught daze and looking me in the eye. ¡°You really are¡­ so bright. JC was right, as much as I hate to admit it. Like a phoenix, burning beautifully toward the end of its life- you¡¯re simply too bright and beautiful. A spectacle too great for my eyes. It¡¯s not just now, either. You have no idea how many times you¡¯ve saved me.¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t...¡± I mutter, my outstretched hand trembling as I struggle to hold its posture. Just when it feels like it¡¯s about to break, however, its plea is finally answered. With a firm clap, her hand meets mine. She grips it tight, her fierce smile showing only a trace of her discomfort as she beams at me, nodding her head in the direction of the sun. I return her smile and give a curt nod. My bare feet scamper across the helicopter¡¯s floor as I lead her out of the threshold. As if skydiving, we take the plunge together, hand in hand. As soon as we do, we begin falling through the hot sky. ¡°Mary, can I leave the lift-off to you?¡± I shout, a confident grin plastered on my face. ¡°Yeah,¡± she replies as she rears her left arm back and closes her eyes. Just as she brings her arm up, her hand taking the shape of a claw, a gust of wind whistles underneath us. Several cracks of thunder sound around us as thick rainfall forces itself from thick clouds into the chaotic sky. The gust grows into a blast of wind with the momentum of her arm, rocketing us skyward. As we fly toward the sputtering, bulging sun, the downpour of rain hits us. I freeze the rain immediately around us, taking it in to form new branches like the ones I¡¯d used before. However, this time my branches of ice grow longer than before. As Mary struggles to supply me with more rain, the branches multiply, growing into great white wings made from my ice. My wings beat the heavy rain as we soar faster, and closer to the falling sun. The rain freezes as it is stricken, joining my wings. As I struggle to flap the heavy wings, they grow even longer and wider as more rain hits them. The strength of the wings propels us so close that the heat should already be melting us. The sweat permeating our hands threatens to bring them apart, but I use Mary¡¯s rain to freeze our bodies, providing a shield of defense against the scorching heat. My wings beat once more, and continue growing broader. Their reach extends some hundred miles, in just two movements. The sun¡¯s sheer strength begins to melt everything, but we maintain our focus. Mary wears the exhaustion on her face as she somehow manages to spawn new rainclouds as quickly as they are evaporated. Similarly, I engage every nerve in my body in maintaining the wings and the ice coating our bodies, freezing everything as quickly as it melts. Veins begin bulging from my head and arms, and then my chest. Blood pours from my nose, eyes, mouth, and ears- but I freeze it too. Another beat of the wing cuts the distance in half. I can no longer see the extent of my wings as they fight to survive, wrapping around the sun itself. ¡°This is it, Mary; one more beat of my wings will take us there, so hold on just a moment longer.¡± My voice rings effortlessly, as if the wind, heat, and rain are of no consequence to it. ¡°Worry about yourself, pinkie,¡± she quips, doing her best to mask the wavering in her pained voice. ¡°My heart is in fine shape, so you make sure yours is too.¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± I reply, summoning all of my strength for one last stroke of the wings. ¡°Thank you, Mary. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here with me.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m glad I got to be with you all the way to the end,¡± she says gently, just as my wings beat toward the earth one last time. The crushing wind intensifies with our speed, as does the heat. The rain evaporates, leaving my great wings of ice to rise upward under my power alone. My teeth tear through my bottom lip as I bare down, forcing my ice to hold strong against the heat for just a bit longer. Just as I realize her clouds have completely vanished, the grip on my hand tightens. ¡°I¡¯m happy¡­ that you¡¯re the one who stole my heart, Mirei.¡± The fiery sun, only several miles away, takes a back seat. My gaze slowly drifts back as the sound of singed flesh reaches my ear. By the time I look, she¡¯s already gone. All that remains of her is the hand I¡¯ve been holding. However, as it melts away, I realize there¡¯s something within it- a small pink lump coated in a thick layer of ice. As her hand melts into dust, the small lump begins to fall away. However, something appears from beneath, holding the heart firmly against my hand. The small gray owl, one eye closed as it struggles to prop the heart up with its beak, burns away just as quickly as it had appeared. Thanks to its support, the heart fits perfectly in my hand, as if it had belonged there all along. Even though her entire body gave in to the sun¡¯s heat, her heart is still fighting. Therefore, I take it with me to the end. My wings rise once more as I soar into the sun. The tears pouring from my eyes freeze and shatter as I shake my head free of them, baring my teeth at the goal ahead. My vast, dense wings envelop the sun as I plunge into it. The expansive ice, and the unyielding sun, coalesce into a solid sphere, leaving only a small gap for me to enter the blinding orange-white light. My wings break from me as I dive into the light, the heat overflowing within me. Losing all feeling, I hold on tight to the heart in my hand as my body melts into nothingness. Suddenly, a cold wave comes over my transformed being, devoid of a physical body other than the two half-hearts in my possession. The air on the inside of the sun freezes and dies, sapping even its light from within. I merely float across nothingness, my very soul holding our merged heart. ¡°You¡¯ve done exceedingly well in exceeding my expectations, miss Mirei.¡± The deep voice permeating the void around me sounds satisfactory despite its emptiness. ¡°You defeated your opponent and your dreams with ease, ruled over your world, and even manipulated your opponent into helping you and ultimately handing over the means to victory, right at the very end.¡± ¡°The means¡­?¡± ¡°Of course, you need a full heart to take on my power,¡± he replies, pleased with himself. ¡°You¡¯ve therefore met all the requirements to return to the real world with my power as your own. Congratulations, miss Mirei- you¡¯ve won.¡± ¡°I¡­ won¡­?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right!¡± he declares, overly-agreeable. ¡°Or, well¡­ maybe I¡¯m getting ahead of myself?¡± He pauses, as if waiting for an answer. Suddenly his figure appears before me, a mere candle light flickering amidst the dead void. Just like in the fireplace, the darker flames curl to form thin wisps, completing his demented smiling face. ¡°There¡¯s just one thing,¡± he says. ¡°That is, you can only take on my power if you let go of some things. You¡¯re going to be the vessel for a god, after all. For example, you must forget everything that happened in this dreamscape. Your strength will be preserved in that completed heart, so there will be no need for extraneous memories of things that do not exist. Which means¡­¡± His pause makes my soul shudder as I realize what he means. ¡°You can forget about Mary, right?¡± The heart, my only matter of being, which had stopped feeling pain- aches at his words. ¡°I¡­¡± It must be the nature of this place, or the power in his words to compel, but my heart cuts through all thoughts and finds the truth. Despite the grief it will bring my father, my heart speaks with more conviction than ever. ¡°I could never do that.¡± The thin wisps of flame grow into an even broader smile. ¡°Therefore, you lose. Truly, what a waste of a nearly flawless display. You would have been a wonderful vessel. But¡­ I wonder if he calculated all of this. You were this close to stealing it from underneath him¡­ oh, how entertaining that would have been.¡± The menacing figure called Aku laughs a slow, satisfactory laugh, as if mocking humanity itself. My consciousness begins to fade as his echoing laugh fills the void, and my heart aches as everything fades away. ¡°I suppose I should offer you a reward, as well. Enjoy it. I¡¯ll be waiting for the final game to start.¡± The void itself disappears, forcing me awake. I¡¯m lying in a small bed, in a stuffy room. Fighting a daze I¡¯ve never experienced, I open my frozen eyes. I can hardly make anything out through my blurred vision. All I see is the legs of a hospital bed, and a small, pale arm reaching from the bed toward mine. The pinky finger of the hand touches my own hand as it rests on the bed. Instinctively, I wake the frozen nerves in my hand, and gently hold the weak, trembling hand that struggled hard to reach me from the other bed. Despite the numb feeling in my hand caused by my long, long slumber, I feel the warmth in this person. The warmth begins to clear away the fog obstructing my vision, and I make out a pale, slender face and long black hair just before my consciousness cuts out like a light. My heavy eyelids peel open once more, having been enchanted by a bright fluorescent light and a warm feeling coming from my hand. However, the moment my eyes open, the light is gone. Instead, I¡¯m sitting in a familiar white room that resembles a train compartment. As I blink my eyes, trying to regain my senses, I discover a companion in the compartment. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡± The girl sitting next to me on the red sofa gasps, looking at me desperately. ¡°Ah! Mary¡­ you¡¯re here,¡± I exclaim languidly, remembering everything. ¡°You¡­ you won, didn¡¯t you?¡± she says, frantically gripping my hands. ¡°That must be why I can¡¯t remember¡­ but I¡¯m sure there was another round¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I answer with a weak smile, allowing her to squeeze my dainty hands. ¡°I won, but lost. Kind of like you did, ehe.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®ehe¡¯ me! What happened?¡± she demands, transferring her grip to my wrists, as if sensing she¡¯d been hurting me. ¡°Ah, Mary, my wrists are more sensitive than my han-¡± ¡°Shut up and answer me!¡± she growls, glaring daggers at me. ¡°Well¡­ I guess I just wasn¡¯t strong enough, after all,¡± I answer, smiling awkwardly. ¡°You weren¡¯t¡­?¡± she mutters, releasing her grip on my wrists. ¡°Why not tell her the truth?¡± The voice seething from the fire fails to surprise either of us this time. Mary simply gazes back and forth between us inquisitively, while I look down, biting my lip. ¡°Well, if you won¡¯t, I will,¡± Aku continues, his deep voice echoing within the small fireplace. ¡°Miss Mirei could not forget your existence, so she lost her chance despite meeting all the requirements to be the absolute victor.¡± ¡°All the requirements¡­¡± Mary mutters underneath her breath, bringing her hand to her chest. Upon resting it there for a moment, her eyes widen, prompting my own chest to thump strongly from within. ¡°But¡­ why, Mirei?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it,¡± Aku says in an emotionless voice. ¡°I strongly believe that man planned everything from the beginning, even without his memories.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± The two of us demand simultaneously. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? He guided you, acting in a way that would best lead you back here to me for a third time.¡± Mary lets out a sigh, before kicking off her expensive flats and resting her feet in front of the fireplace. ¡°¡­your impertinence before a god demonstrates why you were deemed unworthy, woman,¡± Aku seethes, displeasure emanating from his voice for the first time. ¡°Yeah, whatever,¡± Mary scoffs. ¡°It¡¯s like I said from the start, this whole thing is just a big farce. We were just puppets dancing on strings, while you gained entertainment watching as he pulled our strings.¡± ¡°You could say that,¡± Aku responds in his usual satisfied tone. ¡°Though, my highest pleasure was in rooting against him. I wanted it to be fair, so I tried to help you both¡­ like with your father, miss Mirei. I thought if I kept him away, you would not be influenced by him. I did not know he would be quite so resolute, though- so, I could not know for certain that we would arrive here for the true ending.¡± ¡°The true ending¡­¡± I mutter, glaring at Aku with contempt. ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°Well, of course,¡± Aku replies, his satisfaction turning to glee. ¡°That is, the intended goal, for the absolute victory of-¡± Before Aku can finish his sentence, the room¡¯s only door swings open, revealing a raggedy-breathed man dressed in a black business suit. The young, charming man combs his hair back with his hand, before letting out a long, deep breath. prelude I¡¯m having that dream again. It¡¯s a simple dream. Yet, it has demented me so. Every time I¡¯ve had it, I¡¯ve been thrown completely off track from saving myself. The last thing I need is to return to this wasteland, but I¡¯ve somehow returned. Just what was is it that brought me here this time? It¡¯s a world void of life, only the presence of tarnished buildings and what seems to be the sun descending onto a thunderstorm-infested earth. Before me is a person in some sort of old-fashioned deep-water diving suit, helmet and all. It never fails to creep me out. However, I ignore it in favor of what in my hands- a large, golden ball that gives me the same impression as the falling sun. It¡¯s beyond hot, and incredibly heavy. It feels as though it holds a brilliant fire within it, one that both excites and daunts me. This fire must be what makes it so heavy. Therefore, since I can¡¯t bear to hold it any longer, I extend my arms, and launch it in the direction of the suit. He slowly raises his covered arms and catches the boisterous ball with thick gloves that emit a low boom. As he holds the ball, not moving a muscle, its glow begins to dim. I can¡¯t see his face through the dark tinted helmet¡¯s glass, but I get the feeling he isn¡¯t paying any mind to the ball. As if in a daze, he slowly pushes his arms out. Like it¡¯s inevitable, the ball floats back toward me. Before it can reach me, I run. As fast as I can move my stiff joints, I run. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve been doing all along. A gloomy fall day awaits me after I escape the decayed world. I¡¯ve always had a penchant for days like these. I make it to work on time without trying, pass through familiar revolving doors, and enter the lab without greeting anyone. A bearded man comes to me, making small talk. I¡¯m not in the mood, so I brush him off. With a defeated smile he places a report on my desk, and retreats to the cubicle of a bespectacled woman who seems to be harboring some nerves about something. It seems they¡¯ve altered the machine again without consulting me. They don¡¯t seem to understand my role. I specialize in social research rather than engineering and programming, but I have a vital role in maintaining relationships with the subjects. As such, even the slightest tweaks in the settings could have a huge impact on the operation. After all, I¡¯m the one putting my neck on the line, here. Wait, the operation¡­ what was it, again? The subjects? I must be tired from overwork. I better rest a bit. Another dream finds me as I escape reality. I¡¯m in the middle of working in the living room of my family¡¯s house, but I don¡¯t find anything strange with that. Perhaps I¡¯ve spearheaded a medicinal experiment relevant to my work. I¡¯m helping someone find something in the medical wing, and need to go to the supply room to get it. As I make for the corner to go down the hall, I see a large crowd lining up to get in the back door to the left. I assume this is something to do with work, however, a commotion catches my attention. Low groaning sounds accompany come from within the crowd where a man is laying down on the ground. For a moment I think it¡¯s a drunk in line, and this thought is buffeted when I see several black-clad people who look to be security or police surrounding him.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. However, as I continue walking, a gap opens to reveal what looks like IV tubes- at least four sticking into the man¡¯s arms while the ¡®guards¡¯ hold him down. I can¡¯t see where the tubes are coming from through the boisterous crowd. I realize I must address the situation, forgetting what I was doing before. When I get close, though, I¡¯m immediately stopped in my tracks by what feels like a supernatural force. It¡¯s like I¡¯m in a car that¡¯s reached the top of a steep hill and left with no gas or breaks. A man is gripping my chest¡¯s pressure points with near superhuman strength. It feels like my entire upper body is being constricted, my spine shocked as I begin to lose feeling and motor skill. I¡¯m being pushed forcibly backwards. I don¡¯t know if my legs are moving or if I¡¯m being inexorably glided. Within seconds I¡¯m pulled to the ground, and an old man with a beard and white coat is injecting something warm into both of my arms. I see the kitchen at the other end of the hallway as I begin to lose consciousness. As everything slowly fades away, I remember that I should try to alert my parents. The idea of the workplace setting has disappeared from my mind. As I begin screaming for help, I realize that I¡¯m only screaming in my head. My sounds are muffled, my mouth and body completely numb at this point. I¡¯m falling to a place where everything is dark. Before the feeling of finality can finish washing over me, I decide I can¡¯t give up, and reject this scenario. One last try, I decide, forcing every last bit of my mind explode with energy- With a shutter''s click, I awaken, gasping for air and rousing my numbed limbs. Nonetheless, I¡¯m awake- truly awake. Rather, I¡¯m still technically in a dream-state. However, I finally have a grasp on my consciousness. I¡¯ve returned to the train with white walls and florescent lights. I leap up from the futon laying bare on the floor, and step out into the long hallway. My black dress shoes click along the old-fashioned glazed brick floor as I run, compelled forward by a force within my chest. As I grasp at the fine fabric over my chest, I reach a small mirror on the wall. My black suit and slicked back hair, slightly disheveled, remind me of everything. This place is the current base of operation. A dreamscape brought forth by Aku¡¯s power. We were brought here by the machine he helped my company develop. It¡¯s the third and final round. As expected, Aku is going to throw everything into this one. From the beginning, the reset was almost impossible for me to recover from. Showing me those dreams already¡­ he really is a devil. However, I¡¯m supposed to be his proxy. I can¡¯t falter so easily, both for my sake, and theirs. I reach the section of the hallway lined with abstract murals, and find the door toward the end. Swinging the door open with urgency, I step through the doorway, breathing ragged breaths. Here, in this decidedly more colorful room, the two beauties sit, arms folded in indignation. The scarlet sofas match their demeanors, even the normally shy Mirei. Not wishing to waste a moment with Mary¡¯s murderous gaze on me, I take one last long breath before stepping into the room with an air of confidence. ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a lot you two want to hear.¡± ¡°Explain.¡± The perpetually cross face of Mary¡¯s tears into me as she rests her bare feet dangerously close to the fireplace. I hesitate for a moment, before wiping my sweaty brow. ¡°You two might not want to believe me anymore, but this is how things are.¡± I take one more breath, folding my arms. ¡°This is the third and final round. You conquered the first two rounds to prepare you for this final one. Now that you have a better grasp on your circumstances, you stand a chance against me.¡± ¡°Against¡­ you?!¡± Mary exclaims, unable to hold her emotions back. ¡°Yes,¡± I answer with a nod. ¡°The destination of our final train ride will be the place my dreams reside in. We¡¯ll be fighting in my world, this time.¡± ¡°Your world¡­¡± Mirei mutters anxiously. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry I have to break it to you, but this third and final round-¡± The girls glare at me, reluctantly hanging on my words. ¡°-will be my absolute victory.¡± final departure The girls stare silently before glancing at the fireplace. The flames burning inside are completely normal, devoid of any menacing features. ¡°I guess that adds up with Aku¡¯s grand theory,¡± Mary says, turning her head as if she¡¯s already lost interest after her outburst. ¡°Mary, please don¡¯t assume I¡¯ve been manipulating you both this whole time,¡± I plea, taking a step toward her. ¡°Remember when we were in the factory? That was not a lie¡­ I-¡± ¡°Like clockwork, you¡¯re so predictable,¡± Mary scoffs, refusing to look at me. ¡°How did I know you would bring that up. You were planning on using that this whole time, weren¡¯t you? Even going so far as knowing my favorite drink¡­¡± Her voice trails off as she scowls through reddened cheeks. ¡°No, I promise, I didn¡¯t remember that¡­¡± ¡°But that doesn¡¯t matter anymore, does it?¡± Mirei declares in voice that cuts right through my soul. ¡°What,¡± I mutter, facing her in desperation. ¡°Mirei, you know, right? I¡¯ve been there to support you all along, haven¡¯t I? Since you started posting videos; and in your world, I worked hard to help you¡­¡± She looks disappointed, frowning at me as if committed to match Mary. ¡°Why are you trying so hard to win our trust back now? You just declared war on us, didn¡¯t you? Didn¡¯t you just say that you were going to be the one to obtain victory?¡± ¡°Well, of course, I have to,¡± I mutter, staring at her in confusion. ¡°Then, then that means you¡¯re going to leave this world with Aku¡¯s power, right? Which means that we¡­¡± she staggers, looking down. As if I hadn¡¯t understood it myself till now, my face freezes with shock. ¡°We¡¯ll disappear along with the dreamscape, like you said at the beginning,¡± Mary says in a plainly defeated voice, glaring at me with an expression bearing both anger and despair. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ correct,¡± I reply meekly, holding my head in my hand, thinking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry- even though I¡¯m regaining my memories, it feels like everything is jumbled up.¡± I remove my head from my hand and look the girls over, having slightly regained myself. ¡°It¡¯s true that I have a job to do. And you¡¯ll understand why soon. However, there isn¡¯t any reason for the two of you to give up.¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± Mirei asks, her frown turning deeper, as if declaring her distrust in me. ¡°Because Aku helped you both, right?¡± I reply, biting my lip nervously. ¡°I imagine he said something about wanting to watch me lose, so it¡¯s likely he¡¯ll help you thwart me this time, right?¡± ¡°Um¡­ but, JC, there¡¯s no point in us fighting if neither of us can win, is there?¡± Mirei responds, forming a sheepish smile. ¡°But we don¡¯t know that!¡± I exclaim, commanding their surprise. ¡°You both lost because you couldn¡¯t forsake each other, but what if¡­ what if you were to win for the other¡¯s sake?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± Mary mutters, her eyes growing wide. ¡°Force Aku¡¯s power upon the other, making the choice to be forgotten in their place.¡± ¡°¡­that¡¯s¡­ just insane,¡± Mirei sputters, her facade of defiance falling apart. ¡°But why the hell would you be entertaining that idea if this is supposed to be your victory? You aren¡¯t making any sense!¡± Mary shouts, standing to her feet as she glares at me. ¡°Could it be¡­ you just need us to participate for the dreamscape to proceed? This is just more of your phony guidance, isn¡¯t it? Do you think we¡¯re just going to continue to be manipulated by you?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not phony,¡± I reply with furrowed brows and clenched fists, curtailing myself from shouting in return. ¡°I¡¯m still your guide¡­ I¡¯m still serving as Aku¡¯s proxy, so it¡¯s my duty to guide you both through this, even if the writing on the walls is a prelude to my victory. So, if you don¡¯t like the idea of saving Mirei, then just follow me. I¡¯ll lead this final world to a destination the two of you couldn¡¯t fathom. Aku¡¯s expectations of me are high, after all.¡± ¡°Ah!¡± Mirei exclaims, as if realizing something. ¡°What is it?¡± Mary implores, wearing a confused expression. ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned that before, JC,¡± Mirei replies, leering at me as if trying to peek into my soul. ¡°Back in my world, when we spent the night at your apartment¡­¡± ¡°You did what?¡± Mary cries, her reddened face wrought in anguish as she turns her vicious glare at me. ¡°JC, you son of a-¡± ¡°Nothing happened, Mary,¡± Mirei cuts in, wearing an embarrassed smile. ¡°Anyway, it was after you mentioned regaining your memories. When you talked about being worthy to lead the world in the dreamscape, you said Aku had high expectations of us.¡± ¡°Ah¡­ that¡¯s right,¡± I reply blankly. ¡°So, what do you-¡± ¡°I realized, after thinking about that conversation¡­ that you have something planned.¡± Mirei stares at me unflinchingly, forcing me to avert my gaze briefly. ¡°I¡¯m not saying I¡¯ll follow you blindly, but I do want to trust you. Despite your lies of omittance, despite your betrayal¡­ despite everything.¡± ¡°Mirei¡­ thank you,¡± I answer softly, regarding her charming figure with every bit of respect I can convey through a forced bow. ¡°Even if I can¡¯t remember or comprehend the plan I had¡­ no matter what happens, I¡¯ll make good on your trust; I promise you that.¡± The beautiful pink-haired girl offers me a weak smile, while the black-haired beauty threatens to murder me with her eyes alone. ¡°Well, now that I¡¯ve had time to think about it, making your plans fall apart is actually a pretty sufficient motivator,¡± Mary taunts, her bare feet cracking as she steps toward me. ¡°Though I wonder what¡¯ll happen if I just kick your ass right now.¡± ¡°At the very least, go with me to the lab and see my dreams once for yourselves,¡± I reply, standing my ground. ¡°I¡¯ll even show you the truth about your circumstances. Besides, nothing will happen until the world shifts, so there isn¡¯t any point in fighting until then.¡± ¡°Tch¡­ looks like we¡¯re dancing to your tune, after all¡­¡± she mutters as she plops back onto the sofa. Mirei, startled, bats her eyes at her with interest as she curls up beside her. ¡°I¡¯ll go along with your farce for now,¡± Mary continues. ¡°And when the world shifts, I¡¯ll break through our wavelength and beat your ass bloody.¡± ¡°Looking forward to it,¡± I reply with an awkward smile, scratching my head as I watch her fall asleep in seconds, nestled on Mirei¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll let you two get some rest, then.¡± As I turn to make for the door, overly conscious of the girl still watching me, I¡¯m rendered frozen. ¡°It really is strange¡­ how you¡¯re still fighting so hard to gain our trust,¡± Mirei says softly. Her words cut through me like butter, forcing me to tilt my head back in her direction. ¡°We couldn¡¯t follow you even if we wanted to, since you put that idea in our heads. Now we¡¯re sure to be on far different wavelengths, so there¡¯s no way we could work together. And you know that, of course. Yet you still did it, even though you might lose. I wonder, what exactly is at stake for you, JC. How much you¡¯re still hiding¡­ and why, despite all that, you¡¯re still thinking about us.¡± I falter, hiding my expression. Saying nothing, I turn and pass through the doorway, slowly closing it. ¡°Try to rest. I expect you¡¯ll both show me that same strength, tomorrow.¡± Tuner 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 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 caf¨¦ 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 caf¨¦ 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.¡± Tremor I force my trembling legs to move, and face the girls from a distance. They remain silent, turning their grief-stricken faces toward me. ¡°You understand why I asked you to remain strong, now, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Shut up¡­¡± Mary whispers, as if all the fight had left her. ¡°Just shut up and let us be for a minute¡­¡± I close my mouth and watch as Mary directs a complicated look at Mirei, before averting her gaze. Mirei seems frozen with shock and despair, her lips quivering as if she¡¯s trying her best not to cry. Finally, the tears fall down her cheek, and she loses control. ¡°Mary¡­¡± she sobs while clutching her chest. ¡°It¡¯s all true¡­ every bit of it¡­ it¡¯s so real¡­ everything makes so much sense¡­ everything we went through¡­ it hurts.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Mary mutters, refusing to look at her. ¡°Even though it all adds up, it hurts. It hurts knowing that there¡¯s nothing we can do about it¡­ that all we have left is this dream¡­¡± Mirei continues sobbing, her hands shaking. ¡°Even if we do overcome this, our bodies aren¡¯t strong enough. Of course, Aku wouldn¡¯t want to use such weak bodies¡­¡± ¡°Beyond that, we were probably just being fed that lie for the sake of the experiment,¡± Mary replies in a shaky voice. ¡°In reality, Aku already knew who he would inhabit. It¡¯s more likely that this was only ever meant to be a fleeting dream for us, a last chance to live our dreams. A chance given to us by a man who simply pitied our fate¡­ isn¡¯t that right?¡± As she shifts her gaze to me, her expression turns to something dark, as if she¡¯s become ill in her despair. ¡°You¡¯re as adept as ever, Mary,¡± I respond in a soft voice. ¡°I cannot deny what you¡¯re saying.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t understand,¡± Mirei cuts in, fighting back her tears. ¡°If all of that is the truth, then you wanted to help us all along, right? Then¡­ why? Why are you making us suffer even in here? You¡¯re the only thing about this that doesn¡¯t make any sense at all. What do you want, JC?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get some fresh air,¡± I respond, making for the door. ¡°Can you both stand?¡± After some effort, the girls rise to their feet, and hesitantly follow me. The inside of the building operates as normally as it had when we arrived, as if nothing changed. With Mathais trailing behind, we walk outside, following the park trail lined with multicolored cherry trees. The girls remain silent, following several paces behind me. ¡°Well, you did see into my heart,¡± I remark with a light sigh. ¡°It¡¯s all true, everything. The fact that you saved me with your music, Mirei. That I chose to move my stagnant life forward with the purpose of protecting your melody. At the time, I didn¡¯t know exactly what that meant, but it was my reason for living.¡± I glance back to see Mirei following me with an intent look, while Mary hangs her head several steps back from her.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I became a hired hand for the Shibutani Group and erased enemies of your father. But when your music stopped, the Shibutani Group stopped contacting me, so I struggled to find meaning elsewhere. Something else I could protect until I found out what happened to you. So, I searched for Mary, though I had no idea it would bring me to Japan- to Shibuya, where Shiburei was from. But that all left me empty-handed as well. Through my utter failure I became lost in a fleeting daydream of my own, one that taught me just how abnormal and irrational humans are. Eventually, I woke, and the vague dream I had dreamt before, my true purpose, became clear. The reason I knew I had to protect your melody, that is.¡± ¡°What was that?¡± Mary asks, her interest piqued. ¡°Something bigger than us,¡± I reply, keeping my gaze ahead and my hands in my pockets. ¡°Much bigger than the fickle issues of my life, and even bigger than the heavy circumstances you two have lived through. I¡¯ve been both enlightened and humbled in realizing my small purpose, as well as my miniscule reach, and overwhelming lack of power.¡± ¡°Lack of power¡­¡± Mirei mutters, barely audible. ¡°I can reach this godlike entity, yet even with its power I cannot save the one who saved me.¡± Halting, I turn my gaze to Mirei, before shifting it to Mary. ¡°Nor can I protect the one who helped me protect my dream even through years of losing myself.¡± ¡°What¡­¡± Mary mutters, looking me down with a gloomy scowl. ¡°Both indirectly in the real world, and directly while in this dream world, you two have given me everything. So, I hope you¡¯ll believe that everything I¡¯ve told you in this dreamworld is the truth.¡± I take a deep breath, before turning away from them once more. All around, the multicolored grass and trees transform to a sharp, solid green. ¡°What is this¡­¡± Mirei remarks with a gasp. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re changing the world,¡± Mary follows in an accusatory voice. ¡°Unfortunately, it¡¯s because of everything you¡¯ve given me¡­ that I have to forsake you, the very ones I wanted to save¡­ the ones I wanted to protect.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Mary demands, taking a step toward me. ¡°Because¡­¡± Something drowns out the sound of her footsteps. A crack like thunder resounds from the sky as it turns gray. Far in the distant atmosphere, something vast and boisterous, like a great burning star, comes into view amidst the bleak sky. The ground underneath us trembles furiously, while the grass suddenly grows longer and the trees taller. ¡°The dream I saw long ago¡­ the entity that threatens your melody, is coming. Aku¡¯s power is needed to stop it. That¡¯s why he came here, after all- why I called him here. If I don¡¯t use Aku¡¯s power to stop it, your melody and the songs you created, your hearts, the memories and impact both of you left on this earth¡­ will be gone along with everything else. That¡¯s why, whatever the cost, this dreamscape must end with my absolute victory.¡± ¡°You keep on selfishly spouting that nonsense!¡± Mirei shouts, to my surprise. I take another step forward, refusing to look back. ¡°I thought you were so dignified all this time,¡± she continues, voice trembling. ¡°Now I see you¡¯re even more of hopeless wreck than either of us!¡± ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Mary adds in a passionate voice. ¡°What nonsense, saying you¡¯re overwhelmingly normal compared to us. You¡¯re twice the head-case either of us are¡­ which is exactly why you¡¯re going to lose.¡± ¡°Oh, really?¡± I respond, chuckling through my nose as I walk ahead. ¡°I think I¡¯m the most normal person in the world, by far. And that¡¯s what this world needs, as well as the real one. Try to make me lose¡­ and you¡¯ll see that I¡¯m right.¡± I reach for the tall grass growing at my sides, and the ground underneath me begins to shift. ¡°Wait¡­¡± Mary mutters hurriedly. ¡°Mirei, he¡¯s changing wave-¡± Tall grass and vines snap ahold of me and pull me down. As I descend, I catch a glimpse of the girls in my peripheral, lunging desperately to try and reach me. However, before their hands can close onto mine, the grassy earth swallows me as everything goes dark. Pandemonium Thick green vines surround me, pulling me through the earth. I¡¯m come over by a feeling akin to being ripped through a small tunnel in a coffin. As nausea fills my head, I try to block out the sound of my body tearing through the earth. I feel my mind shifting to a place it has never been before. The girls know it well, but I¡¯ve never been there myself. I shouldn¡¯t be able to go if Aku is there, but if he is in the dream world¡­ I have to stay away. I focus on the darkness, and relax myself. The vines seem to fade away, and instead I¡¯m surrounding by nothingness. From the nothingness springs countless doors, one for each direction I turn. The doors draw me in, and I approach one of them. However, instead of reaching out for the handle, I clench my fists and kick the door in. The door shatters and disappears in the dark. I turn to the next door, and kick it in. Repeating four more times, I regain the feeling of vines wrapping my hands. I grasp them as hard as I can, and thrust myself away from the darkness. I¡¯m quickly pulled above the surface. Even though I¡¯m still blanketed in vines, I feel a sense of relief and catch my breath. Gradually the vines begin to loosen until I can see my surroundings. I¡¯ve surfaced in a vast forest with skyscraping fern trees. The vines continue to hold me captive, tied between two nearby fern trees. I try to move myself, but the vines are too strong. Giving up, I survey my surroundings. The vast forest stretches beyond my line of vision, though its trees are moderately spaced out. There¡¯s no way for me to ascertain where I¡¯m at, and the vines prevent me from turning my head in any direction. It¡¯s no surprise my world has immediately thrown inescapable shackles on me from the moment I changed the world. It¡¯s probably to prevent me from running away, to force me to face my dreams. I¡¯m being forced to look myself in the eye, for everything that makes me who I am and which brought me here. That is the only way to make it through this victorious¡­ according to Aku, at least. Though, to be chained down, forced out of contention while the girls have the chance to fight- it¡¯s going to take every bit of strength I have to navigate this. My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot. I look up to see a familiar face moving toward me. The blond-headed man, whose black suit matches his lifeless eyes, flashes an apathetic smile at me as he approaches. ¡°Director?¡± I mutter, shocked by his sudden appearance. ¡°Why, hello there, JC,¡± he says in a rigid voice. ¡°You¡¯ve met with some bad luck since I saw you last, it seems.¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t an NPC- you¡¯re really the Director, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Astute as always, my trusted subordinate,¡± the man replies, his lips curling with satisfaction. ¡°While I am not exactly my true self, as you might say, I am more complex than the NPC¡¯s you have interacted with so far.¡± ¡°Does that mean¡­¡± I respond, eyes wide. ¡°You¡¯ve fulfilled the last of the Ego Redistribution objectives?¡± ¡°Correct,¡± he says, finally stopping a meter away from me. ¡°The Ego Redistribution Protocol- that is, to extract or copy the measurables of the human ego, and redistribute them elsewhere. With the ¡®PC Booster¡¯ we were able to register the ego of our subjects. We then discovered the key to moving the consciousness, the ultimate success being our ability to send you and those girls here.¡± ¡°Right, but this isn¡¯t your original consciousnesses,¡± I reply, staring narrowly at him. ¡°Itt is not,¡± he says, grinning. ¡°As you know, we consequently understood how to differentiate between the consciousness, personality, and memory- all of which comprise the ego. Your ego here proves that sending the consciousness will also send the subject¡¯s other measurables, albeit imperfectly in the case of memory. Whereas, we have had success redistributing copies of the subject¡¯s personality alone. Certainly, you have more experience in your social experiments with the manipulation of personality than the consciousness.¡± I hand my head, sighing. ¡°And now you¡¯ve finally figured out how to copy and transfer memories alone, haven¡¯t you?¡± ¡°That is the me you see before you,¡± he says, grinning even broader. ¡°Might as well be the real thing, right?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I answer, taking up as defensive a posture as I can manage whilst confined to my knees. ¡°But you aren¡¯t here to help me¡­ are you?¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± he replies, waving a hand politely. ¡°Aku would not have that, would he? He¡¯s a shrewd one, so allowing me to stack the odds in your favor simply would not do.¡± ¡°Right, he has a strong enough motive to oppose me, after all,¡± I remark, glancing to the side before gazing back at the smiling man. ¡°But what about you? Or rather, the memories of the Director in the real world? Does he wish for my victory?¡± ¡°JC¡­ you¡¯ve always been wary of me, haven¡¯t you?¡± he asks, peering at me through squinted eyes. ¡°Ever since I hired you, you never actually trusted me. Maybe that¡¯s to do with your past, but I was always aware of your mistrust.¡± He pauses, as if waiting for a reaction. I simply stare at him with cold eyes, refusing to give him one. ¡°Even then, I always liked you. You¡¯ve been a great subordinate, and I like to think we share a certain¡­ bond,¡± he chuckles lightly. ¡°Certainly, you and I are on similar wavelengths.¡± ¡°If so¡­¡± I mutter, hardening my gaze further. ¡°Then you really do want me to win¡­ but you don¡¯t actually trust me, either, do you?¡± ¡°Bingo,¡± he says with a grin, holding his arms out to his sides. ¡°Just as you have been wary of me, I¡¯ve been wary of you and your capabilities. While it would be a good thing for our ambitions- the ambitions of Worldbeaters, if you were to gain Aku¡¯s power, there is a certain feeling of foreboding that comes with the notion.¡± ¡°And that means?¡± I ask, cautious of his every move. ¡°Well, I decided while you were in here that I would make things more interesting and give you a true test to make sure you are worthy,¡± he answers with a grim smile. ¡°In the real world, we have registered the egos of over one million people into the PC Booster¡¯s system. In this dreamscape, however¡­¡± I let out a short gasp, realizing what he¡¯s going to say next. ¡°We have already registered over ten million.¡± My face goes white, as I am no longer able to hide my exasperation. ¡°This means, of course, that we have the ability to transfer personalities, memories, and consciousnesses of the people within this dreamscape,¡± he continues. ¡°As you already know, we can also transfer those measurables from those registered in the real world to the people registered in this world.¡± ¡°I remember now,¡± I mutter. ¡°Aku said before that even we existed in this world as NPC¡¯s before our consciousnesses were transferred here. That¡¯s why the girls had to grow through years of real time here¡­ because their NPC selves were copies of the real thing, until they gained their original consciousnesses.¡± ¡°Following that same vein, we have transferred memory and personality measurables from people in the real world to their NPC counterparts here- like myself,¡± he says, gesturing at himself with a satisfied smirk. ¡°But did you really need to register the NPC¡¯s in this dream world?¡± I ask. ¡°Not for consciousness, but for memory and personality,¡± he replies, pointing at his temple. ¡°Which is why Aku had to recreate our company to the letter, to ensure things were done properly as they were with the three of you.¡± ¡°But what about my memories?¡± I demand. ¡°And the girls? Why does the transfer of consciousness result in the imperfect transfer of memories?¡± ¡°Who knows?¡± he responds, shrugging loosely. ¡°But I did not mention the other reason for registering the NPC¡¯s.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Well, once I recovered my true self¡¯s memories inside here, I decided we would transfer copies of your memories, and those of the girls, to all the people we have registered here in the dreamworld.¡± My jaw drops in horror, and I am unable to make a sound. ¡°That includes a certain environmentalist group you encountered inside Mirei¡¯s world and know from your own past, as well as the entirety of Shibuya which rebelled against Mary¡¯s world. Oh, and I¡¯m sure the name ¡®Ireland¡¯s Finest¡¯ means something to you? The group of kidnapping bandits whose trail brought you to Japan in the first place.¡± ¡°You¡­¡± I mutter, breathing labored breaths. Gradually, I curb my heavy breaths into a choppy laugh. ¡°You certainly have made things interesting. And here I am stuck like this due to my own world¡¯s structure. I can¡¯t let them win while I do nothing here, but I also don¡¯t want them to die for good before I obtain victory and tell them goodbye¡­¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Then what will you do?¡± he asks, grinning broader than ever. ¡°You¡¯ve stacked the odds against yourself. I¡¯ve stacked them even higher, and Aku does not want to lose to you.¡± I realize at that moment that the many cord-like vines wrapping around me and attached like leaches to my neck are twitching, along with my fatigued arms. Attempting to wake up my sleeping nerves, I flex my arms. The vines react, squirming as if they had become extensions of my arms. An idea comes over me, and I act on it instantly. The vines rise from the ground and strike before the man can make any movement. The ends stick like plugs into his temples with enough force to bring him to his knees. Despite the blood and clear pain, he continues smiling, while I continue thinking. This is a dreamworld. There are things that can be done here that simply can¡¯t in the real world. Mary¡¯s storm, Mirei¡¯s ice and sun. My own world changed to something overwhelmingly normal- a world brimming with nature. If I have the ability to tune this world to a version that¡¯s closest to the real world, then I should be able to utilize the quirks within my world, my own abilities, to normalize the world even further. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if your memories of this world will make it back to the Director in the real world,¡± I declare with a hardened gaze. ¡°But I hope you¡¯ll take this as my formal apology for acting against Worldbeaters protocol.¡± ¡°JC, my memories are explicitly off limits, you know th-¡± His words cease as his temples and forehead pulsate. I feel something being extracted, forced from his head and through the vines, and then into my own head. Unable to stop the process, a feeling of fullness reaches my head and my vision blurs before going dark. Countless memories of the Director¡¯s life flash through the darkness, but I search for something specific. I find the point at which his memories transferred into the dreamscape, which was no more than two days ago. A quick review confirms everything he said about Worldbeaters¡¯ activity in this world. Shortly after, I find what I¡¯m looking for. The Director is having a conversation with Mathais, but it is not the Mathais I know. His face looks twisted, and he wears a grin even more malevolent than the Director¡¯s. ¡°This is how I will be aiding the girls once the world changes,¡± Mathais says. ¡°Though of course I expect JC to discover this fact and watch my every move from somewhere.¡± I cut the memory short, and bring my vision back to darkness. I focus on something I haven¡¯t done in years- projecting myself. I feel my vines on the outside of the darkness, and command them through the earth¡¯s crust. They search until they find what they¡¯re looking for, and then retreat under the ground. Just as they do, my consciousness shifts through the darkness. Before me stands two girls in a version of Shibuya that¡¯s overrun with tree and plant growth, and a public in utter chaos. Countless people flee their crashed vehicles and scatter as the growth expands relentlessly over the city. The girls stare into the tree-filled Shibuya Crossing, and look back in shock at me- rather, the one they are looking at is Mathais, whose body is being borrowed by Aku as well as myself. I am merely peering through the eyes of the body Aku is inhabiting, something I haven¡¯t done since I was a child. ¡°This¡­ is JC¡¯s world?¡± Mary mutters in shock and awe. ¡°Yes,¡± Mathais says. ¡°This is the world borne of JC¡¯s own heart.¡± ¡°This is¡­ what normal looks like, to him?¡± Mary responds in a frustrated voice. ¡°Because nature is so beautiful, maybe,¡± Mirei says in a low voice, gazing over the expanse of trees that continue to grow thicker and taller by the second. ¡°Perhaps it is the belief that the world¡¯s natural make-up could defend itself against the incoming threat,¡± Mathais says, pointing at the sky. The girls turn their gazes to the distant entity, a boisterous sphere baring the visage of a shooting star. ¡°What exactly is that thing?¡± Mary asks, clearly shaken by the image. ¡°Well¡­ to put it simply, it¡¯s where I came from,¡± he says, folding his hands together. ¡°Huh?¡± Mary responds, her breath staggered. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re Aku now, aren¡¯t you?¡± Mirei asks calmly, gazing at the man as if seeing through him. ¡°Impressive, Miss Mirei,¡± Aku seethes in Mathais¡¯ voice. ¡°I am, indeed.¡± ¡°When?¡± Mary whispers, raising her guard while flickering her gaze between Aku and the chaos unfolding in the city. ¡°As soon as JC left,¡± Mirei responds confidently. ¡°Mathais looked different to me¡­ he reminded me of my father.¡± ¡°Yes, well done,¡± Aku answers in a satisfactory tone. ¡°I decided to join with Mathais, much like I did with your father before, to observe you, and to guide you through this stage in lieu of JC.¡± ¡°We really can¡¯t see him, then¡­¡± Mary mutters, looking down. ¡°You cannot- at least not currently,¡± Aku answers, folding his arms. ¡°Much like the previous stages, you should make your goal to bring your wavelengths together. Certainly, JC will be working on converging all the planes of this world, so you¡¯ll be helping him in that sense.¡± ¡°But he clearly didn¡¯t want to work with us¡­ I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s thinking or planning, but why should we help him converge all the planes of the world?¡± Mary demands, her voice raised significantly. ¡°So that you can fight him on an even playing field,¡± Aku responds calmly. ¡°The reason he wants to work separately, aside from your natural disagreement which brought forth differing wavelengths, is that he wants a head-start once everything is converged. He knows you¡¯ll come together once everything converges, but whoever brings about the convergence is likely to have the upper hand in retrieving my power. It¡¯s like how you both grew much stronger in your abilities obtained in this world, only after you were able to bring the other to your side. This time as well, your goal should be to gain that upper hand by forcing your wavelengths together.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Mirei mutters, eyeing Aku suspiciously, as if she¡¯s looking directly at me through him and Mathais. ¡°I should tell you, though¡­¡± Aku says, unphased by her daunting stare. ¡°JC is watching our every move from within my vision.¡± ¡°What?¡± Mirei asks with gasp. ¡°But¡­ how?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll figure out the specifics later,¡± he says in a low voice. ¡°But it is a power exclusive to him and myself. You might say that we are two sides of the same coin, never touching but always near. However, more importantly¡­ look behind you.¡± The girls turn to find hundreds of people, many armed with guns or swords, pouring toward them from the chaos. They step back toward Aku, hands trembling. Mary in particular clenches her fists, her entire body shivering with both fear and anger. ¡°There has been some meddling this time around, aside from me being here,¡± Aku says, bringing their attention back to him. The group of bandits among them is an especially dangerous entity for you, right, Miss Mary?¡± Mary holds her left arm reflexively, tears welling up in her wincing eyes. ¡°Then¡­¡± MIrei mutters, a fierce look in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯d like to declare to JC, if he¡¯s listening right now, that I will be the one to reach Aku¡¯s power first, and just as he suggested- I¡¯ll use it to save Mary!¡± Mary gasps, looking at Mirei in surprise, before looking down and letting out a short breath while her left arm trembles. ¡°On the contrary,¡± she says, taking a step toward Aku. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to bring JC down and win¡­ and give the power to the girl who truly deserves it- the one who already met the requirements to win.¡± She clutches at her chest, slowly looking up at Aku- rather, at me. ¡°You helped her take the rest of my heart, so let¡¯s make her the one who is saved!¡± She lunges toward Aku, withdrawing something from within her suit. ¡°Mary, no!¡± Mirei cries, reaching for Aku¡¯s arm. ¡°It won¡¯t work! We need Aku right now!¡± ¡°Mirei will be the one to live on!¡± Mary declares, thrusting the knife toward Aku. ¡°No, it¡¯s going to be Mary who lives!¡± Mirei shouts desperately, pulling Aku away from the incoming attack. Before the knife can find its home, a blur of static comes over the three. From within the static, vines swarm over them, and tear them away from each other. I return to the black world I entered while surveying the Director¡¯s memories. Regaining my wits while simultaneously blocking myself from entering the deep dream world, I focus once more on projecting myself. Aku stares across a patch of grass in front of a small, moss-covered building, at Mirei- who sits on her knees, holding her head in pain. ¡°That was rather quick thinking from the both of you,¡± Aku declares. ¡°Changing wavelengths forcibly to get out of trouble like that...¡± ¡°It was going to have to happen eventually, anyway,¡± Mirei answers in a labored voice. ¡°We don¡¯t see eye to eye on something crucial, after all.¡± ¡°Certainly,¡± Aku replies. ¡°You will have to settle that disagreement, if you wish to gain the upper hand by being the ones to force the convergence of planes.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll have to fight each other one last time before we can work together to stop JC, huh?¡± Mirei mutters in response, holding her knees instead of her head. ¡°But what comes next? How do we reach each other in order to settle things?¡± ¡°Well, that will coincide with the structure of this world,¡± Aku answers, casually taking a seat in the grass. ¡°Currently, JC is attempting to hide himself from the deep dream world. He thinks he can simply control things from afar, keeping you both at bay, and ultimately stop the coming threat which would win him my power. However, we have taken measures against that.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Mirei asks, head tilted in curiosity. Aku flashes a grin on Mathais¡¯ face, and I feel my fists clench on the other side at the muffled sound of the Director¡¯s chuckle in front of me. ¡°These vines all over the place are like ley lines, serving as transmitters for the power of this world,¡± Aku says, folding his hands together. ¡°This means the deep dream world itself resides in these vines. While JC is running away from the dream world, he is also using these vines to his advantage, manipulating things remotely while in a safe place. The more he uses these vines, the more vulnerable he will leave himself to the deep dream world lying within them. He will have to face his deepest dreams despite his insistence on avoiding them¡­ after all, it is just as necessary for him to overcome them as it was for you and Miss Mary.¡± ¡°Then why are you telling him your plan?¡± Mirei asks. ¡°He¡¯s watching us through you, right?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure he is,¡± Aku responds, winking an eye. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, he will be compelled to continue using the vines. That is, in order to keep an eye on you two. In doing so, he¡¯ll inevitably run into the vehicles we manufactured for the sake of forcing him into the deep dream world.¡± ¡°What is¡­ that?¡± Mirei asks, her gaze narrowed. ¡°Myself and the Director have set up three theaters, each holding a section of JC¡¯s memories. The key to bringing the planes together will be for the two of you to search through these memories and understand the root of JC¡¯s dreams- to locate the means to force all of your wavelengths together. Of course, the same is true for him.¡± ¡°So that¡¯s why he¡¯ll be compelled to go there,¡± Mirei says in a mumble. ¡°Right, since he is insistent on normalizing the world in every way- which includes bringing all the planes together, cutting out the distortional structure of this dream world which stems from the deep dream world.¡± ¡°That¡¯s how he plans¡­ on winning?¡± Mirei says through choppy breaths, watching anxiously as Aku rises and walks several paces away to stand over a puddle of water littered with green leaves. ¡°That¡¯s why, in our rounds, he insisted on us bringing our wavelengths together- it was all for this. It was to strengthen our bonds in order to make it easier this time around.¡± ¡°Most likely,¡± Aku answers, looking down at the puddle until his reflection becomes clear through the rippling water. ¡°He has to bring everything together¡­ normalize everything¡­ eliminate the distortion that I caused and which I am given life from¡­ that¡¯s the only way¡­¡± He pauses, curling his lips as he stares dauntingly at his reflection- as if looking at me, to challenge me. ¡°To eliminate my existence from this world, as well as the real world. That¡¯s the only way for him¡­ to truly take my power." Projection In need of a reprieve, I remove myself from Aku and return to the void. Fighting an onslaught of the memories belonging to the Director, as well as another urge to enter the deep dream world, I use the vines to search once again. It doesn¡¯t take long to find her within the forest of a city. Sitting atop a tree, Mary hides from a large group. Just as they spot her, they raise their guns and yell something. Before they notice, my vines pounce on the men from the ground beneath them, ripping them limb from limb and creating a pool of blood amid the lush grass. Mary seems to be in shock by the sudden attack, and maintains her position, glaring in fear at my vines. Thinking quickly, I withdraw all but one of the vines. My view of her now limited to the one vine, I lose sight of her expression. Focusing on the men dispatched by my vines, I find several that are still breathing. Like I¡¯d done to the Director, I plunge my single vine into the sides of their heads, one by one. Extracting their memories via nerve impulses becomes even easier this time, like I¡¯d done it many times before. A collage of memories run through my head, and again I refine my search for something specific. Once I find it, I disconnect my vine from the last man¡¯s head, leaving him to lie in a puddle of his own blood. Using the puddle like ink, the vine scrolls something into the grass, before waving at Mary like a piece of string blowing in the wind. She looks down at the message, still cautious as ever. Upon reading the words, her eyes grow wide. ¡°Do you¡­ want to see this man¡¯s memories¡­ of your father?¡± Her eyes shudder as she reads, her breaths labored. ¡°This man¡­ saw my father?¡± she asks desperately, leaning forward in her perched position in the tree. ¡°The father I can¡¯t even remember?¡± My vine wags emphatically to usher her down, at which she hesitates before slowly climbing down. She staggers toward my vine, refusing to lower her guard despite her obvious interest. ¡°If you try anything, I¡¯ll cut you in half,¡± she says with a deep glare. In a slow, caution motion, I sink the vine into Mary¡¯s head, just above the temple. We both float in the void until a memory is projected over the darkness. The man whose memories I stole is sitting on a bleacher in the middle of a snowfall, with another man who dons a ball cap and large coat. The two men seem to be fighting off the biting cold by smoking cigarettes and rubbing their hands together as they focus their eyes on something- rather, someone. Their gazes shift from a young girl skating gleefully on the outdoor ice-skating rink in front of them, to a man several bleacher sections down from them. The man, large-armed and bearded, looks every part the working-class single father I remember him as. The man who asked me to find his daughter, Kaspar Reid, puffs on a pipe while watching his daughter with a warm smile. He shows no averseness to the biting cold that makes his breath visible, even cheering his daughter on heartily. ¡°Go, Mary!¡± he boasts, patting his chest while coughing after taking a puff from his pipe. ¡°That¡¯s my future Olympian and supermodel!¡± The girl responds shyly, prompting a hearty laugh from her father. The man with a ball cap turns to the owner of the memory, and nods before getting up and walking away. The owner turns to follow, cutting the memory short. We reenter the void, before another memory plays. This one is similar to my own, a memory of the night at the pub where I was hired by Kaspar Reed. The memory¡¯s owner sits across the pub watching Kaspar drink in silence next to the younger me. The empty look in his eyes as he gulps down his mug of beer serves a stark contrast from the last memory. Forcing this memory to an end, I insert a memory I just experienced- that of Aku and Mirei discussing their plan to bring me to the deep dream world through a string of theaters set up by Worldbeaters. Once the memory ends, I withdraw my vine from Mary¡¯s head. After a moment of holding her head in pain, she regains herself. Once her hands move from her temples, I can see her reddened eyes and cheeks which she¡¯d been hiding. She looks down, sniffling as she moves her hand to her suit pocket. ¡°It really is you, then¡­¡± she says in a shaky voice. ¡°Thanks for telling me where I need to go, even if you only did it for your own sake.¡± Suddenly, she lunges at my vine, baring the knife she showed earlier. Mesmerized by the anguished look in her eyes, I fail to move the vine before she slashes it into pieces. My consciousness is ripped away from the amputated vine, forcing me back to the forest where I¡¯m restrained by my vines. The Director sits on his knees in front of me, grinning weakly despite the vine plugged into his head. ¡°You¡¯ve returned,¡± he says, struggling to rise to his feet. With some effort, he pulls the vine out of his head, and sets it neatly on the grassy earth. Ignoring the blood seeping from his temple, he paces to the nearest tree and rests his shoulder against it. ¡°I suppose your next step is to find the first theater, and ensure the girls both make it there?¡± ¡°Interfering by sending my memories from the outside was out of line,¡± I say, glaring at him. ¡°Well, then we are even,¡± he responds, brandishing a cigarette and lighting it while resting it on his lips. ¡°Since you broke protocol and looked at my memories- a bit of an unfair cheat if you ask me.¡± ¡°You knew the risk when you sent your memories here,¡± I respond, unphased by his attitude. ¡°You might have opened up the world to chaos, but you helped me gain nearly limitless power in the process.¡± ¡°True, we did think about that,¡± he responds, his face growing pale from the blood loss. ¡°But, as I¡¯m sure you witnessed Aku declare, you put yourself a step closer to the deep dream world every time you utilize the machinations of this world.¡± ¡°What is with your insistence on forcing me in the deep dream world?¡± I ask with a stern expression. ¡°What is it about my dreams that interests you both? I thought that¡¯s what the girls were here for, not me. I don¡¯t have such compelling dreams. I¡¯m just normal- I¡¯m supposed to win against them because of that normality, because of my convictions in the face of the harsh reality ahead of us. So, why?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a better question for Aku,¡± he responds, exhaling smoke. ¡°That¡¯s the thing¡­ bringing the planes together, normalizing everything, and eliminating the distortion along with Aku- perhaps that can only be achieved by obtaining the root of your dreams.¡± ¡°The root of my dreams¡­¡± I mutter, looking at the ground in front of me. ¡°The same thing Aku said.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the answer you should be seeking, rather than winning by brute force and cunning,¡± the Director says with a smirk as he turns his back and begins walking away. ¡°Oh, also¡­ don¡¯t bother searching my memories for the answer- I don¡¯t have it. Only Aku does, so perhaps you should try to get inside his head.¡± A short breath leaves my mouth as my lips turn into a slight grin at his words. ¡°Are you leaving? You¡¯re not done meddling yet?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m quite done,¡± he answers, waving a hand shortly without turning back. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do anything that will get me killed here, so I think I¡¯ll just watch from a distance as things play out.¡± Not bothering to watch him leave, I close my eyes and focus. There are two people I want to find. Putting my feelers out through the dark, I search for them. Avoiding the doors that continue to invite me into deep dream world, I scour the earth. I only find one of my targets, and waste no time in sinking my teeth into them before immediately returning to the void. Searching through the Director¡¯s fading memories one last time, I ascertain the locations of all three theaters they expect us to visit. The next step is to figure out which of the three Aku is starting with. The three of us share the same requirements for bringing the planes together, so we should all agree that the three of us must be present at the theaters. Therefore, it shouldn¡¯t be a race to get- The instant I project into Aku, I¡¯m met with darkness. I wrack my brain, but fail to understand why my projection failed. After several seconds, I realized that I did not fail. Rather, it¡¯s that Aku¡¯s sight has simply been blocked by something. ¡°Yes, since we aren¡¯t aware of when he¡¯s been watching, doing it earlier on was the best idea,¡± Aku says in a low voice. ¡°All he has to do is search the Director¡¯s memories to discover the locations of the theaters, but if he doesn¡¯t realize which one we¡¯re going to first, we have the upper hand. Of course, you all have to witness the dreams, but the key is to be the quickest to gather information.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Sorry, Mary¡­¡± Mirei mutters. ¡°I¡¯m going ahead of you. JC won¡¯t be able to guide you there in time without knowing where we¡¯re going.¡± ¡°Though, he could always take her to a different theater,¡± Aku says. ¡°That¡¯s not in his nature, though,¡± Mirei responds with confidence. ¡°He wants to control the pace, not allow the balance to shift in one of our directions. He¡¯s certain to come, and he¡¯ll bring Mary to prevent me from getting too far ahead.¡± ¡°That does sound like him,¡± Aku responds, chuckling. ¡°What remains to be seen is how long it takes him to figure out which one we¡¯re heading to.¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± Mirei mutters, walking ahead of the blindfolded Aku. Hoping only that I could have seen her expression, I uproot myself from Aku¡¯s vision once again, and return to the void. I use my vines to perform a frantic search. Firstly, I try to locate Aku by directing my vines to the place I projected myself in, but something blocks me. Even my vines cannot be in the same physical space as him, it seems. They have to be somewhere in this forested version of Shibuya, where all three theaters lie hidden in the trees. I scour the city, attempting to establish a perimeter around the place I¡¯m being blocked. My sense of space underground is not as sound as it is above, so it¡¯s impossible to decipher how far away my vines are from where they were blocked. Trying another method, I search the forested city for the groups that should be pursuing the girls. Sure enough, I find Mary running on foot from more of the bandits, while it seems the environmentalist group is searching around the former hub of the city, the entertainment district. They don¡¯t seem to have picked up Mirei and Aku¡¯s scent, and are checking empty buildings as they gain numbers. An hour passes before I locate the theaters themselves. Conceding that I might have to go with the worst-case scenario that Aku mentioned, I calculate which of the theaters are closest to Mary. I then strain myself, inhabiting vines in the area of all three theaters, which lie miles apart. My head pulses as the blood trickling from my nose threatens to bring my consciousness back to my physical location, but I persist, focusing on the vines. Performing a thorough search of the areas, I confirm there isn¡¯t anybody lying in wait on the outside. The only choice is to wait. I¡¯ll have to act swiftly once they arrive. Just as I settle my vines into spots where I can see anybody approaching the small theaters, I sense something. Suddenly, gunfire erupts upon my vines in all three locations. My consciousness is blurred and nearly cut off from each of them, but I fight to keep my vines in-tact. A brief glimpse reveals scores of black suits amongst the surrounding trees, firing automatic guns that carry enough force to split my vines. Mirei and Aku are formidable together, indeed. I hadn¡¯t underestimated them, but since I was unable to locate her father, there wasn¡¯t much I could do to prevent this. Whether it was Aku or Mirei that orchestrated this move using the Shibutani men, I do not know. It¡¯s all I can do to keep my vines alive in every spot, since I can¡¯t miss the moment they arrive. My physical body growing more fatigued by the moment, I push to retain my waning consciousness in all three spots, doing my best to defend against the relentless gunfire. Finally, I manage to reach some of the men, and tear into them. Expecting them to dissipate into shadow as they had previously, I¡¯m thrown off when my vines flay their bodies just like they had done to the bandits. Mirei must no longer see them as dark shadows of her father, compelling her to play. Or is it because her father himself is no longer¡­ Suddenly, my consciousness disappears from the southern-most theater. I know instantly this is the one, as my vines had begun to overwhelm the suits and shouldn¡¯t have been so easily cut down. This means Aku is there with her. She could have snuck in on her own while I was under fire, and left me behind in confusion. As I thought, she plans on bringing me along so that I can view the dreams alongside her. She¡¯s leaving Mary out, hoping that my presence is enough to work toward bringing our wavelengths together. Her methods are much more aggressive than I ever could have imagined. I¡¯m both impressed and terrified. However, I can¡¯t linger on that. I have to act fast. To my dismay, the theater they¡¯ve picked happens to be the farthest from Mary. Even so, I locate her immediately, surrounding her with vines. She quickly takes up a defensive stance, readying her knife and baring her teeth like a wild animal. With no blood at my disposal, my vines dig into the ground in front of her, frantically spelling out the words: ¡°you have to come with me. Mirei is already at the theater.¡± Upon reading the words written in the dirt, her eyes grow wide. ¡°S-so what? Don¡¯t we all need to be there? Will it start with only her?¡± Frantically, I write in response: ¡°she is cheating and leaving you out. I can take you there fast, so come.¡± ¡°Why¡­¡± she mutters. ¡°Why should I trust you?¡± ¡°I need you both there,¡± I write into the earth. ¡°She doesn¡¯t.¡± ¡°But there¡¯s no way for me to know-¡± ¡°I will bring you to your father. I promise.¡± The last words I hurriedly write cut her short, and she simply stands still with a shocked, childlike expression. ¡°O-okay,¡± she stammers, as vulnerable as I¡¯ve ever seen her. Not waiting any longer, I coil my vines around her wrists and ankles and launch her like a slingshot. My vines retreat into the earth, and more spring up several meters further, catching her and throwing her again. Repeating the process over and over, my vines carry her through the forested city faster than a vehicle would. The strain on my physical body increases, my head pounding and bleeding more than before. Pushing on, I bring her within a mile of the theater. Fear brewing within me, I decide I must check on them. If they¡¯ve already started watching, I have to be there. I decide to execute something I have yet to try. Firstly, I focus on maintaining my rapidly moving vines. At the same time, I switch my consciousness, projecting myself back into the eyes of Aku. He is still blindfolded, but I can distinctly hear the sound of blaring speakers. ¡°The first showing will now begin,¡± a robotic female voice plays over the speakers. ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± Mirei mutters next to Aku. ¡°Yes,¡± Aku responds. ¡°I suppose he knows where we are by now, so removing this will be the best bait to bring him here.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Mire says as the blindfold comes off, revealing a small mid-size theater room with a dozen rows of seats. Mirei¡¯s figure, still adorned in the same pink skirt and white blouse, is as striking as ever. ¡°He has to witness this with me. You won¡¯t miss it, will you, JC?¡± As I fight to keep my consciousness in-tact while maintaining my vines elsewhere, the theater screen lights up, projecting a bright white over the room. The refracting light bends across the room, creating shapes and colors much like the monitor at the Worldbeaters lab. The glare shines over us, taking us into its light. Suddenly able to move Aku¡¯s body myself, I gaze upon Mirei while the distorted screen begins to form the same dream that I saw when I first arrived in my world. Her charming face bares an expression I¡¯ve never known her to possess. A combination of anger, hunger, and focus lies on her pale cheeks illuminated by the scene playing out before us. That same dream begins as it always has, in which I stand across from a faceless figure wearing a bulky diving suit. As it pushes the great fiery ball toward the me on the screen, Mirei watches intently. ¡°This is¡­ your dream?¡± she asks, blinking at the screen. ¡°What exactly does it mean?¡± ¡°If I knew that already, I¡¯m sure this would be much easier for all of us,¡± I respond. She shifts her gaze to me, raising her brow in surprise. ¡°When did you change from Aku to JC?¡± ¡°I suppose we¡¯re getting closer to the deep dream world this time,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°You and Aku are a bother, you know? Making me do this, and even leaving Mary to fend for herself¡­¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for any of this, remember?¡± she responds with a fiery glare. ¡°And I¡¯m only going along with this for Mary¡¯s sake¡­ so that she can be the one to live. You¡¯re only helping her because it will benefit you.¡± ¡°I must say, I prefer the Mirei from the last round,¡± I remark with a short chuckle. ¡°The one that trusted my plan without hesitance. In the end, we all have to be on the same wavelength to stop what¡¯s coming. That¡¯s how we win Aku¡¯s power, I¡¯m sure. Jumping ahead of Mary may help you gain the upper hand, but hurting her isn¡¯t going to help either of us bring all our wavelengths together.¡± ¡°Ironic of you to talk about that,¡± Mirei hisses, watching as the fiery ball reaches the me on the screen. Unable to hold the ball, the me on the screen pushes it back toward the person in the diving suit. ¡°After you spent the last two rounds building our bonds, preaching about severing the distance between us¡­ only for the sake of having us ready for this last round.¡± ¡°I guess I¡¯ve pushed you too far, so, believe what you will,¡± I answer in a defeated voice, watching as the me on screen turns away from the ball he¡¯s just thrown. ¡°Mary was one thing, but I never expected to lose your trust so easily. I¡¯ve failed yet another person in my life, haven¡¯t I?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve just shown your fickle nature, is all,¡± Mirei responds with a stern side-glance at me. ¡°Right¡­¡± I mumble, nodding as the me on screen begins to run in the opposite direction of the incoming sphere. ¡°I¡¯m just disappointed,¡± she tacks on with un unforgiving tone. ¡°Don¡¯t think Mary hasn¡¯t been thinking the same thing. It¡¯s like she said before, we were only brought here for your benefit. You just needed us to satisfy the mechanics of Aku¡¯s dream world. You needed us, the people you once wished to save, to be pawns who you could manipulate into becoming stronger. All for the sake of bringing all the planes of this world together in order to eliminate Aku.¡± Hanging my head, I finally lose my grip on the vines I was simultaneously holding onto. As if waiting for me to answer, Mirei glances at me, only to see blood seeping from my nose, ears, and mouth. ¡°What¡­?¡± she mutters, mouth agape. At that moment, the door to the theater room is thrown open with a bang. We both turn away from the screen to see Mary staggering in, pulling shriveled vines off herself and tossing them aside. Without a word, she limps over to us, taking her place next to me and gazing with a conflicted look at the distorted screen. ¡°Help each other out if it gets scary,¡± she mutters in a shaky voice. ¡°That¡¯s what you said, wasn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± Mirei responds with a dumbfounded look as she glances at Mary, who stays her gaze forward, her expression twisted in pain. Without another word crossing between us, I¡¯m left right in the middle to bear the brunt of the tension which I¡¯m solely responsible for. Feeling crushed by the tension, my mind seeks an escape. In that split second of weakness, I realize I¡¯ve let my guard down at the worst time. A doorway to the easiest escape lays itself before me, and my mind reaches it before my better senses can turn it away. I was well-prepared for the theater room within the Worldbeaters lab and therefore able to prevent myself from falling inside, but this one is far stronger. My consciousness merges with the me inside the screen as my mind itself refracts with the light, contorting at every angle. I become the light reflecting onto the girls¡¯ faces, before landing in the deep dream world. The fiery sphere grows hotter than ever as is chases after me. I continue running, just as I had been when I was watching from the outside. It¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever done. Therefore, I run- from one dream, to the next. First Showing;Across the Pier The next scene to appear is not a dream, but a memory. I squeeze my right hand, confirming my presence. The smallness of my fingers tells me it¡¯s an old memory. I¡¯m lying on the cold shingles of a slanted roof, closing my eyes. My left hand is being held tightly within a small, soft hand. ¡°Now, clear your mind, Jean,¡± the woman¡¯s delicate voice hums in my ear. ¡°Release the tension in your shoulders and relax yourself until you feel a tingle in your feet. Now, let that tingling feeling crawl all the way up to your chest, and fall into your arms and your head.¡± Her voice cowers into a low whisper, sounding further and further away as her hand slowly peels away from mine. ¡°Now focus your mind on moving your arms. Only try to move with the tingling feeling, and forget that your arms are able to move by themselves. When you¡¯re ready, leap as far into the sky as you can- here, I¡¯ll go first.¡± My body buzzes like a bee from the inside, and I feel as if my mind itself is forming anew and crawling out of my physical body. Through my closed eyelids the starry night comes into view. A flash of silver light ascends into the starry sky. I follow the light, climbing as if the night¡¯s sky serves as a metaphysical staircase just for me. For some time, I climb, until the stars surround me, bright and angelic in their form. Archaic auras swim amongst them, like a pool of silver consciousness watching me as I travel. Far, far ahead in the distant space, I am beckoned by a light, one so ambivalent despite its monolithic stature that it incites both wonder and fright within me. I return at the sound of a finger snapping softly in my ear, open my eyes, and survey her divine figure, shadowed by the dark. Her long brown hair flows gently with the wind, blanketing her face before revealing a warm smile underneath her beauty spot. ¡°How did it feel? What did you see?¡± ¡°The stars are watching us, too.¡± ¡°You think so?¡± she says, amused. ¡°They are reaching out to us, too, aren¡¯t they?¡± ¡°I wonder why that is, Jean. Don¡¯t you?¡± At the blink of an eye, the scenery changes to the dining room of my childhood home. An exquisite breakfast lays before me, daring me to consume all four plates full of nutritious foods. My parents sit at a table in front of me. Their smiling faces are clearer than my memory of them could ever conjure. My father, bespectacled and clean cut, wears his black hair the same way I do now. My mother¡¯s dark brown locks and brown eyes suit her fair skin and beauty spot under her eye. A truly motherly figure, whose warmth spreads to me over the table like a cozy fireplace. ¡°Sweetie, it¡¯s amazing the academic level you¡¯ve reached, and at 7 years old,¡± my mother says with the same smile she showed me on the rooftop. ¡°And we¡¯re both so thrilled you¡¯ve taken an interest in our work. You¡¯re our little genius, aren¡¯t you?¡± I can¡¯t stop myself from grinning from ear to ear, beaming affectionately at my parents as my father clears his throat. ¡°Which is why, Jean¡­¡± he follows, narrowing his gaze on me. ¡°We want you to help us with our work. We¡¯ve decided to leave the World Neuroscience Institute and are actually going to be working at home for a while, you see? So, what do you say? Would you like to help us fulfill our research?¡± Compelled by the actions of my past self, I nod my head fervently. With a heavy blink, the scene shifts once more to our home¡¯s study. Three raggedy men are seated in arm-chairs, their sleeves rolled up as my father injects something into their arms one by one. My mother stands next to me, whispering in my ear. ¡°Remember, Jean- you¡¯re following the funny-looking bearded man in the middle.¡± After turning off the light, my father leads my mother and I into the living room. We each lay down on a separate sofa, and remain silent. I follow the steps as mother trained me, and leave my body before they do, gliding like a specter down the hall where I peer into the dark study. An unnerving quiet persists for minutes before the malnourished bearded man leaves his body in the form of a silver, ghost-like figure. He passes through the ceiling, unaware of my presence. I follow close behind him, leaving the house for the newly dawned morning. The ghostly man floats ahead of me, oblivious of my stalking. He doesn¡¯t seem to have any destination in mind, merely wondering through the streets while dazedly watching the morning commuters. Suddenly, a traffic incident ensues right beneath us. The shock pulls me back into my body at once. I open my eyes, and discover my parents have already come back. ¡°For the third time, only one of them ascended to the stars, despite our direction,¡± my father mutters while hurriedly jotting in his notepad. ¡°And not far,¡± my mother adds, a disappointed look on her face. ¡°Jean did so much better on his first try. We¡¯ll need to try different subjects, since it¡¯s unlikely these ones will ever get as far as us, let alone Jean¡­¡± ¡°Reaching the singularity is the goal, JC,¡± my father responds in a strict tone as he places his hand on my mother¡¯s shoulder. ¡°However, it¡¯s important to continue taking data, regardless. There¡¯s always something to be gained in remaining steadfast to the process, even if you aren¡¯t succeeding.¡± He turns to me, chuckling through his nose. ¡°Try to remember that, Jean.¡± I nod, mouth agape in curiosity. ¡°Besides,¡± he continues, ¡°we have to be careful not to attract the eye of the Colonel. We cannot take the risk of exposing these men to him right now, nor can we afford to go recruiting any more mentally unstable homeless men. Also, we only took enough of that for around ten runs ¡­ if these three don¡¯t show significant results after nine, I¡¯ll assume the role myself.¡± ¡°And after that?¡± my mother whispers urgently as she glances my way, clearly reluctant to carry on in front of me. ¡°If we fail to produce the proof that will convince the Institute to invest in our research on astral projection and cosmic exploration¡­ what then? And when the Colonel realizes what we took from him?¡± ¡°Then we leave,¡± my father answers in a firm, unwavering tone. ¡°Together.¡± My mother looks at me, and nods at him. ¡°We still have all the past data, even if we fail. We can start over In Paris, where my parents are- or anywhere else, as long as we¡¯re together.¡± The scene shifts once more, and I find myself following the scraggly man on the same path through town. We make it further this time, but another incident occurs, breaking my concentration and forcing me back. Two tries later, the ghostly man follows the same path, and arrives at a small residential home. Through the open window, he watches as a woman and small child sit at a table, eating. ¡°Mama, is Papa going to come home, today?¡± the small child bearing short, black hair asks as she prods at her eggs with her plastic fork. ¡°Honey, your Papa is still fighting, so you need to be a good girl and go to school like normal,¡± the woman replies in a soft, yet cold tone. ¡°What kind of battle is Papa fighting?¡± the child asks, frowning at her mother. ¡°That¡¯s something he¡¯ll have to tell you someday¡­¡± Unable to watch anymore, he slumps down from the windowsill, and floats over the uncut grass. He begins wailing loudly, while clawing at his translucent face. The sounds of his wailing echo far and wide, yet I am the only one able to hear them. Therefore, I stand witness in silence- the sole observer to his fit of anguish. Finally, after what seems like hours, the man¡¯s cries subside. However, he does not move. Therefore, I finally turn away from him. Just as I do, something appears from behind another house. Another silver ghostly figure, in the shape of a lanky teenage boy- not a match for either of the other men under my family¡¯s watch. He seems somewhat familiar, as if I know him from somewhere, though I cannot put my finger on it. As quickly as he appeared, he vanishes. Thinking I must be seeing hallucinations as a side effect of the projection, I carry on, floating back through town with an indescribable melancholy filling my head. Before returning home, I float along the boardwalk lining the coast which harbors a host of houses and festive stalls on the water. For a while, I forget my melancholy, and take in the communal joy I¡¯d never known, watching siblings chase each other and parents hug their children. Before long, I remember my duty- that I am expected to return, and document my observations. Therefore, I hesitantly head back into town, toward my home. A sense of dread pervades as I recall this series of events, knowing I will be forced to relive everything. However, the moment of unrelenting despair displayed by the bearded man remains at the forefront of my mind the entire way home. Upon returning, I report everything to my father. He silently makes notes until I finish, never noticing my sunken mood. ¡°Father,¡± I mumble while he continues to write, tapping his index finger impatiently. ¡°Is what we¡¯re doing okay? Will it help these men fix their problems?¡± ¡°You are young, Jean,¡± he responds, pausing his writing to look sternly at me. ¡°Let your mother and I worry about those things. What¡¯s important is the research, and that we are together.¡± ¡°But my chest feels tight¡­¡± ¡°You must live your life for you, Jean,¡± he says in a stronger tone. ¡°You cannot save everyone you pity. We humans simply lack the strength. You can, however, use all of your strength to help those whom you hold dear, those you wish to remain in your life. Never forget that, okay?¡± Compelled by his words, I answer with a short nod. The scene shifts abruptly, bringing me back to my living room. The men are all seated, awaiting the next run. I¡¯m rummaging through the cabinet on the west side of room, looking for a relaxant to give them. My parents are unusually late in arriving, so I¡¯ve decided to start things out myself. As I make for the corner to go and ask them about the relaxant I chose, my attention is inexplicably drawn to the back door behind me. I slowly pan my head over, just as something silver and flowy passes through the door. The figure is the same ghostlike figure of a teenaged boy I had seen prior. He locks eyes with me for a moment, frozen in place, before turning his attention to the doorknob. Unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen a projection do, he turns the doorknob. The door opens slowly, while I¡¯m frozen in place, watching the ghostly figure drift back through the door and out of sight. The door bursts open. A large crowd pours in, full of professional-looking people in suits. Many of them begin snapping photos with their oversized cameras, while others make for the three men on the sofas. An older man walks in, bearing a white coat that matches his beard and hair. An entourage of black suits follow behind him as I stagger down the hallway, wishing to let my parents know what is happening so that we can escape, together- as they had said. However, before I reach the end of the hallway, a man¡¯s cry compels me to turn back. The bearded man whom I¡¯d been assigned shrieks as he¡¯s thrown to the floor behind the couch. The white-haired man stands over him as the crowd collects around them in a firefight of camera flashes. The white-haired man sticks something in the man¡¯s arms while the suits hold him still. For a moment, I hesitate, my gaze bouncing between both ends of the hallway, between the empty, soundless end, and the one where the man¡¯s cry is coming from. I know what my choice will bring, but I feel compelled by the man¡¯s cries. My legs move on their own, and I push my way through the crowd of reporters. Nearly falling into the opening in the middle, I catch myself as all eyes fall upon me. In the brief moment in which their surprise renders them immobile, I snatch the clear tubes out of the man¡¯s arms. Just as I do, however, I realize just how foolish my action is. Before I can even decide what to do next, I¡¯m immediately stopped in my tracks by what feels like a supernatural force. It seems like I¡¯m in a car that¡¯s reached the top of a steep hill and left with no gas or breaks. The white-haired man is gripping my chest¡¯s pressure points with near superhuman strength. It feels like my entire upper body is being constricted, my spine shocked, as I begin to lose feeling and motor skill. I¡¯m being pushed forcibly backwards. I don¡¯t even know if my legs are moving or if I¡¯m being inexorably glided. Within seconds I¡¯m pulled to the ground, and the old man is injecting something warm into both of my arms. I see the kitchen at the other end of the hallway, and nothing else. I¡¯m beginning to lose consciousness. ¡°Your parents stole from me,¡± the man says as he kneels over me. ¡°They stole much from me, thinking they would get away with it¡­ thinking they would be the ones to discover the truth in the stars and take credit for publicizing the inevitability we face.¡± As everything begins to fade away, I remember my desire to warn my parents. At least they should be able to escape, even if I don¡¯t. However, as I begin screaming for help, I realize that I¡¯m only screaming in my head. My sounds are muffled, my mouth completely numb at this point. I cannot move nor call out to them. I¡¯m falling somewhere, a place where everything is dark. Before the feeling of finality can finish washing over me, I decide I can¡¯t give up, and reject this scenario. One last try, I decide. I make every last bit of my mind explode with energy and- I open my eyes. Rather, they are not my eyes, but a pair of eyes in which I am borrowing. What I¡¯m looking at is the vast expanse of space, from the viewpoint of a gigantic, burning star. My figure stands amid the boisterously burning light, nearly holographic in form. It¡¯s similar to the ghostlike projections, but with more physical energy and presence. I instantly understand that this body does not belong to me. Rather, I belong to it. It is me, but I am not it. For just a moment, I am allowed to feel its sensations. It feels every bit like the burning star it¡¯s standing on, boisterous and powerful. I look upon my large, silver hands, and form them into fists, wishing to harness the great energy of the star beneath me. Even if for a moment, I wish to use the celestial power. My sensations begin to fade, as I remember myself. My vision goes blank, but I am still grasping at the otherworldly source of power. Brief glimpses of the scene in my parents¡¯ living room flash before me: my fists moving with godlike speed, tubes snapping, and blood spilling. Black suits and a white coat lay on the floor in a pool of blood, along with dozens of broken cameras. The glimpses passing through my head change to the outside world: the morning sun shining over the city, a road sign reading ¡°Leaving Reykjavik¡±, and the lush green Icelandic hillside. Bloodied feet, mangled deer and rabbits, tattered clothes, and finally, a small village, and a quaint two-story home. The power fades away from my clenched fists as I am brought to my senses at last. I¡¯m standing in front of a tired-looking woman with her sleeves rolled up. Four boys around my age stand behind her, suspicious of me. ¡°You¡¯ll be living here now, unless the police decide to do something else with you,¡± she says without a hint of emotion. ¡°You¡¯ll have your own room, so be happy. They said you were under severe distress when they found you, after all. Finn, you¡¯ll move to Edmond¡¯s room, understand?¡± The shortest of the boys jumps out in front of her, protesting. However, I am lost in a daze, as if I had not yet fully woken up yet. I find myself staring at my arms as I move my hands slowly, realizing my arms have grown longer. I take up residence in the small room, though I don¡¯t have any belongings. Finn had moved everything with him to Edmond¡¯s room, even the bed frame, leaving only an old, worn-down mattress and blanket. Having been told to rest despite the sun pouring through my dusty, ineffective blinds, I curl up under the blanket. I continue staring at my hands while clenching them repeatedly. Finally, the sun passes beyond my window, so I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. However, my body won¡¯t relax as easily as it used to. My hands continue pumping in and out of fists, and my brain feels as though it doesn¡¯t need sleep. I give up on sleeping, and walk quietly down the stairs and approach the cramped kitchen, where the foster mother is cooking eggs and potatoes. I look in a mirror in the hall, noting how much longer my hair is. It¡¯s reaching my ribs, and its thinness matches my face and body. ¡°Excuse me,¡± I call to the homely woman in a hoarse voice I¡¯ve never heard. ¡°Is there a newspaper?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± she responds, looking me over with a curious expression. ¡°You aren¡¯t sleeping like I told you. Hmph, oh well. Look on the counter over there.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I respond quietly, retrieving the morning paper from the nook on the other side of the small dining table. I look immediately for the date in the corner, and drop the paper upon finding it. ¡°Three years¡­¡± I whisper under my breath, staring at my trembling hands. ¡°Where was I¡­ what happened?¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± the foster mother grunts, looking my way. ¡°Speak up, boy- oh right, what¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°My name¡­¡± I mutter, looking at her with a blank expression. ¡°JC.¡± ¡°Right, that¡¯s what you told the police, too,¡± she responds, turning back to the stovetop. ¡°No last name, no background, no identity. How did you end up in a small village like Vik, without any family or memory?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I respond, looking down. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize, foolish boy,¡± she barks, glancing sideways at me. ¡°What are you looking for in the paper, anyway?¡± ¡°Work,¡± I respond with a slightly enthusiastic expression. ¡°Work?¡± she asks, shocked. ¡°You¡¯re only ten or eleven, boy.¡± ¡°I need money,¡± I answer calmly. ¡°So, I can have more than a bed.¡± The memory fades away as the scene changes, new memories flashing by wherein I¡¯m hunting, fishing, and doing countless odd jobs and manual labor. Finally, the scene shifts to my new room, decorated with a desk and an old computer, along with a chair and several other additions. My hand operates the mouse smoothly as I browse the web via the search function. I¡¯m scrolling through search results that include headlines like ¡°Neuroscientist family missing¡± and ¡°Horrific scene at the home of famed neuroscientists leaves ten dead¡±. All of them are dated three years prior, and outline the same general story. ¡°The married neuroscientists, Jeanne-Claude and Vladimir Christo, were being investigated by their former employers, the World Neuroscience Institute¡¯s Iceland headquarters led by the esteemed Colonel Ivanov, for allegedly stealing research on astral projection. Having gained evidence of the stolen research and drugs, Colonel Ivanov conducted an unlawful raid of the Christo household, taking several reporters for the sake of documentation. There it was found that the Christo couple had taken in three drug-addicted homeless men to be used in conjunction with the stolen research and drugs. ¡°The Colonel and his security team secured the three victimized men, one reporter said, but were met with hostility by the 7- year-old son of the Christo couple, Jean. Described as inhabiting an otherworldly presence due likely to the drugs, the boy killed the Colonel and his men, destroyed the reporters¡¯ equipment, and escaped on his own. As police arrived on the scene, it was discovered that Jeanne-Claude and Vladimir Christo had fled the scene as well, some personal belongings gone with them. The police have asked that civilians report any sightings of the couple, as well as the young boy believed to be by himself. The World Neuroscience Institute has not made any comment, other than confirming the stolen research belonged to the deceased Colonel Ivanov.¡± Every article reads similar, with no new updates regarding the whereabouts of my parents, or myself- of course. My thin visage, warped facial construction, and overgrown hair do not match the pictures posted of my 7-year-old self. It¡¯s no wonder the police never made the connection. I¡¯m lucky I ended up at this small village, rather than a town with better equipped police. I continue my search, looking at various articles about astral projection. The WNSI had not come out with any new findings regarding it, so the latest archives are papers published by my parents while they were still employed by them. They speak of celestial communication via projection, and a new enlightenment that can be found by reaching a certain singularity- an enlightenment that will impact the future of our environment, and the concerns revolving around it. My mother wrote a piece specifically focusing on the astral state- a spiritual state one enters while projecting outside their body. Dated after my parents left the Institute, it details the mindset you must be in to achieve an astral state, and the benefits of reaching it, as well as the possibility of communicating with otherworldly, even godlike entities that you would never be able to communicate with otherwise. It cites previously rumored testimony of several men who claim to have reached a certain ¡®singularity¡¯ that warned them of an impending disaster, but have since gone missing. These are all things my parents had told me three years ago. Only now can I connect the dots that the testimony of the missing men must have been part of the research data that my parents stole- the reason they were able to teach me how to project. Bringing up a new tab, I search for calming music and close my eyes as it plays. I haven¡¯t tried this in over three years, so even the act of easing my breathing proves difficult. I think about my parents, and the sacrifices they made to try and prove what they believed in. I picture their faces, relaxed yet focused as they attempt to project. Next, I picture their anguished faces, regretful at having to run away and give up on their dream. Focusing on the hopes of finding them through projection, I steady my mind and relax my limbs, just as my mother taught me. However, the sensation never comes to me, and I am stuck with the image of their anguished faces. Are they disappointed in me, I wonder? Did I fail them when I jumped to the rescue of the unfortunate man? Are they able to continue their research, wherever they are? Are they able to project? If not, then that duty should be mine. However, my nails are bitten to their limit before I finally decide to give up, unable to reach the astral state in which I had so easily achieved three years prior. As I stand and make for the bathroom in the hall, my door swings open. The other foster boys pile in and tackle me to the floor. Having grown used to their beatings, I simply take it in silence, assuming that they will leave my computer unharmed if I don¡¯t fight back. Of course, I wonder if the foster mother would do anything if they did damage my things. Surely, she hears them kicking me relentlessly, but she won¡¯t call out for them to stop for at least another minute or two, as if hoping they¡¯ll stop on their own. The scene shifts to the lobby of the small police station, the place I was first taken to when I was discovered. The officer who found me is sitting at a desk, greeting me with a smile. I briefly thank him for his help those three years ago. He smiles, noting ¡°I see how hard you¡¯ve been working in this town. Thank you, too. I hope you¡¯ll continue to do well here, for my sake and the sake of your foster mother. She may be a bit rough around the edges, but she gives a lot to take care of you boys who aren¡¯t her own.¡± I nod at him, promising to work hard for their sake. The scene shifts once more as I find myself back at my computer with no light in the room aside from the screen. I¡¯m searching a popular video sharing website for tips on astral projecting. Among the results, I find a video that had just been uploaded today, titled ¡°Shiburei debut recital, performing new song: Astral¡±. I play the video, and the girl¡¯s song rings in my head like something out of a dream. The sweet melody makes me feel at home, reminding me of the boardwalk in my hometown. While I listen, entranced by her piano, my foster brothers break into my room and begin their assault. I grip the headphones tight, drowning myself in the song as my consciousness fades to black. The black then fades to the place in the stars, on the surface of one great big star. The boisterous entity thrusts itself through space, pulling in and devouring smaller stars and leaving only shining fragments in its wake. The more it devours, the faster it becomes, and the more power I feel within my silver hands. However, instead of holding onto the power as I had before, I open my hands, letting it go.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. The scene shifts, once again, to the police station. The foster mother ushers me inside the lobby with an impatient demeanor, and the officer waves at me with a big grin, holding something behind his back. ¡°Do you know what today is?¡± he asks, excited. I shake my head, peering at him blankly. ¡°Well, today marks six years since you came to this town,¡± he says in a more subdued voice. ¡°Since we don¡¯t know your birthday, I figured this would do. So, anyways, this is for you.¡± He reveals a small envelope with ¡°JC¡± scrawled on it. ¡°I remember you expressing a desire to sail when you visited once. This license will allow you to do so- which makes your horizons even broader than before. Now you can work as a fisherman, among other things.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that great?¡± the foster mother urges, smirking slightly while crossing her arms. That night, I sit at my computer, listening intently to another one of Shiburei¡¯s songs. The door of my room threatens to burst open, but a small sofa wedged underneath the handle keeps it safely shut. Since I didn¡¯t come down for dinner, the boys have been relentlessly attempting to come in my room. For the first time, I¡¯ve decided to refuse their abuse. I¡¯ve decided I do not want to be pummeled anymore. Because I now have something that gives my life value. My gaze shifts to the small sailing license that lists my age as 17- a lie, and uses the foster mother¡¯s last name. I place the license within my oversized wallet, alongside the cheap compact music player I just bought, and a thick wad of cash- everything I¡¯ve earned up till now. I fold the wallet before sliding it in my pocket, and shift my gaze to my backpack. Ensuring it¡¯s properly zipped, I turn my attention back to Shiburei¡¯s new song. The melody fills me with me hope, optimistic for a new start. The comment I type reflects my sentiment, garnering plenty of interaction from other commenters. Finally, the hunger pangs take over, and I lose consciousness. Taken back to the great devouring star once more, I watch as a new silver, humanoid being points far out into space- in the direction we are headed, where a new star system awaits. The system of large, colored stars contains one in particular, covered in a vast blue and green hue, which strikes me. I clench my blurred fists, overcome with a feeling of longing, a feeling that I can never truly hold anything within such blurred hands. Yet I clench them harder, trying to grasp the power that flows through me from the burning star. I open my eyes again, to find myself still staring into the stars. Rather, I am viewing them from the other side. I cannot see the great burning star from here, only the countless small stars. Looking down, I find my fists clinched, covered in blood. I¡¯m standing in the street in front of my foster home, my upstairs window and the front door left open. The four boys lie motionless on the wet pavement, their bloodied bodies illuminated by the yellow hue of the street lights. Repositioning my worn-down headphones, I take one last look at the place I¡¯ve called home for the last six years, before turning my back on it- compelled by the melody playing in my ears. ¡°I must protect this beautiful sound.¡± The dimly lit streets, fogged over and uninhabited, lead me on a downhill run, toward the beach. I reach the docks before dawn, and spot a small commercial boat in the middle of boarding. Presenting my license along with some cash, I board without issue. As the boat pulls away from the dock, I stand on the deck, watching as the small town of Vik grows smaller and smaller, until it¡¯s out of sight. The scene shifts to another dock, where I¡¯ve disembarked before anyone else had awaken. The early morning sky matches the quaintness of the dock, complete with several old boathouses. I¡¯m greeted by a sign reading ¡°Welcome to Ireland¡±, as well as a man in black garb making his way to the boat I just left. The man, tall in stature and intimidating in demeanor, stops in his tracks when he sees me. His black beret casts a shadow over his face as he eyes me suspiciously. ¡°What are you doing in a place like this by yourself, kid?¡± he asks in a gruff voice. ¡°Traveling,¡± I mutter, avoiding eye contact. ¡°Run away, then?¡± he fires back with a coarse chuckle. I silently take a step forward, attempting to hide my shaking hands. ¡°None of my business, right?¡± he says, coughing as he laughs. ¡°Say, you look like you¡¯re hurting for money. Should I help you find your parents?¡± Unable to ignore this, I whip my head back, glaring at the tall man with something akin to violent hunger in my eyes. ¡°Ah, now those are the eyes I was hoping to see,¡± he says in a low, threatening voice. ¡°As I thought, you¡¯ve got potential, kid.¡± ¡°Potential for what?¡± I ask, baring my teeth like an animal attempting to fend off a larger predator. ¡°For doing the dirty work that needs to be done for this world to continue sleeping peacefully in ignorance.¡± The man walks toward the docked boat, before casually tossing something across the deck into the ship¡¯s small lodgings. He walks back toward me, carelessly lighting a cigarette. After a moment of eerie silence, the ship¡¯s lodgings implode, bursting into flames. ¡°There was a political extremist on that boat,¡± he mutters, closing the distance between us while I stand, frozen in place. ¡°He intended to enter the country and spearhead a movement that would lead to a great banking crisis- one that has already befallen Iceland.¡± ¡°But how did you...?¡± I mutter as the man turns my shoulder and ushers me alongside him as he walks to the other side of the wharf. ¡°My employer, has a vast information network,¡± he responds in a low voice, keeping his head down as several staffers run from within their buildings toward the burning ship. ¡°They¡¯re known as the Shibutani Group.¡± ¡°Shibu¡­tani?¡± I mutter, narrowing my eyes. ¡°They¡¯re a massive Japanese company with influence over world politics, economy, and the entertainment industry. They have an uncanny ability to predetermine large-scale events before they happen, and can prepare accordingly. Jobs come in almost every day, asking me to kill, escort, or simply watch people that threaten their interests. It¡¯s good money, and there¡¯s meaning in doing it. Sound like something you¡¯d be interested in?¡± ¡°Me?¡± I blurt out, staring wide-eyed at the man. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I said you had potential, didn¡¯t I?¡± he grunts, raising his brow at me. ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯re not giving me a choice, are you?¡± I mumble, looking down at the boards our feet tread swiftly over. ¡°Telling me all that¡­ you¡¯ll just kill me if I say no, won¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± he replies, yawning after taking a drag from his cigarette. ¡°You¡¯re not a threat, so there¡¯s no real downside to telling you. You¡¯re just some runaway- you¡¯ll either die on your own or work for me, and gain some valuable life experience. So, what d¡¯ya say?¡± ¡°Sure, if it pays,¡± I mutter, giving in despite my suspicion. ¡°Great,¡± he grunts, smiling as he pats me on the back. ¡°Name¡¯s Killian. What about you?¡± ¡°JC.¡± ¡°JC?¡± he asks curiously. ¡°What¡¯s that stand for?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just JC.¡± ¡°Hah!¡± he chortles, ¡°that¡¯s boring. Let¡¯s make it Jean.¡± ¡°Wha-¡± I stammer, looking with wide eyes at the man. ¡°Jean-Cathal!¡± he remarks, cutting me off. ¡°You look half-French, so Jean! But you¡¯re in Ireland now, so Cathal! It means ¡®battle rule¡¯, so it suits your new job.¡± I give a hesitant nod as Killian exhales smoke satisfactorily, unconcerned with the rising panic on the enflamed dock. The scene shifts to an unassuming hostel. I¡¯m lying in a raggedy bed, tending to wounds all over my torso. The door of the small room is knocked on five times, before it opens. ¡°Got the next job from the Shibutani Group,¡± Killian says, tossing an unopened beer bottle on my battered stomach. Rather than grunt in pain, I apply the cold bottle to my bruised ribs, sighing with relief as the cold spreads through my upper body. ¡°Will you let me take part in this one?¡± I ask, sure of the answer I¡¯ll get. ¡°Nah,¡± he says, lighting a cigarette as he sits on his own bed. ¡°You still can¡¯t hold your own against me, so you¡¯d only get in my way. If you work hard enough, four more months should be enough.¡± ¡°It¡¯s already been six¡­¡± I mutter, clicking my tongue before popping the cap of the beer bottle with my teeth. ¡°And it¡¯s impressive that you¡¯re on track to being a professional in six months, especially at your age,¡± he responds, smirking underneath his black beret. ¡°And with that scrawny build, to boot.¡± Placing the bottle cap between my thumb and middle finger, I flick it at Killian. Despite its speed and the close distance, he catches it with ease. Copying me, he flicks it at my injured rib faster than I can react. Grunting in pain, I snatch the cap angrily and take a swig from my bottle. Six months later, I¡¯m following Killian down a dark alleyway. The man we¡¯re tailing had noticed us and dove into the alley. He¡¯s desperately trying to lose us, but our speed is no match for him. As we close the distance, the man fires a haphazard shot at us from a pistol. We both swerve out of the way, and Killian grabs a hold of me. ¡°You get him, kid!¡± he grunts as he throws me forcefully ahead. My trajectory takes me into the man¡¯s back, where I swiftly disarm him before he can fire another shot. As we collide, our momentum sends us toppling over. As I roll, I secure his gun, careful not to let it fire. Before I can rise to my knees, Killian is already on top of the man, holding a knife to his throat. ¡°Please, let me go!¡± he cries, ¡°I¡¯ll give you as much money as you want!¡± ¡°Excuse me,¡± Killian grunts as he presses the knife down, drawing blood. ¡°Are you implying we are poor and in need of money?¡± ¡°No!¡± the man cries in a panic. ¡°I just thought that I-¡± ¡°We have plenty of money, pal,¡± Killian seethes, pressing the knife down further. ¡°So, I¡¯ll ask you this: will you stop supplying dirty money to gangsters here in Hong Kong? It¡¯s hurting a legitimate business relationship between them and the Shibutani Group.¡± ¡°I-I don¡¯t know anything-¡± The man¡¯s pleas are cut short. I stand over him, having fired a round from my suppressed pistol into his heart. ¡°Jean-Cathal! I was having fun!¡± Killian cries, like a child having its toy taken away. ¡°The orders were to off him from the beginning, Kill¡± I grunt in response, walking away. ¡°I¡¯ll never understand your sadistic tendency to toy with your prey.¡± ¡°When you¡¯ve been doing this as long as I have, you need to retain some of the thrill somehow,¡± Killian answers, springing up and following me. ¡°Oh, speaking of! That was your first kill, wasn¡¯t it? This calls for a drink, Cathal! Let¡¯s go to the pub, eh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s JC,¡± I respond in a monotone voice. ¡°And that¡¯s not my first kill¡­¡± my voice trails off as I look down, before perking up, brow raised mischievously. ¡°But I will still go to the pub.¡± ¡°What?¡± he asks, dumbfounded. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding out on me? Alright, you¡¯re doing some damn talking when we get to the pub, ye hear?¡± Later that night, Killian sits next to me at the pub, tears in his eyes. ¡°You had such a tough time!¡± Killian cries, pounding his empty mug on the bar top. ¡°Keep it down, Kill,¡± I groan, glancing around us. ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal, really. But that¡¯s why I can¡¯t use my real name. The police and the World Neuroscience Institute already made the connection between Reykjavik and Vik. They jailed the police officer and foster mother that took me in, and are probably looking for me in Ireland. It¡¯s why I was keen on traveling from country to country with you. Frankly, I¡¯m not looking forward to returning to Ireland for the next job.¡± ¡°Then let¡¯s skip it,¡± Killian responds with certainty, despite his drunkenness. Let¡¯s go to France, to Paris, and look for your parents.¡± ¡°¡­I¡¯m not really interested in that, though,¡± I respond, hiding my face from him. ¡°Well, we can just kill them if that¡¯ll make you feel better,¡± he says with a hearty laugh, waving down the bartender for a refill. ¡°Let¡¯s just do it and see what happens. Besides, I really don¡¯t want to do this next job. We¡¯ll decline this one, and return to Ireland as if we had done it, so that we keep our schedule for them.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the deal with the next job?¡± I inquire, calmly swigging my mug. ¡°Eh, it¡¯s not like we haven¡¯t done some morally reprehensible jobs,¡± he says with a grimace as his drink is refilled. ¡°But this one is a little much for me, and probably you. They want us to¡­ well¡­ kidnap a young girl, and haul her all the way to Japan.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a leap from killing money launderers and drug smugglers,¡± I respond, unable to hide the surprise in my expression. ¡°It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth,¡± he says, taking a gulp from his mug and immediately taking a drag from his cigarette. ¡°I probably would have done it a year ago, though¡­ you must have softened me up, kid.¡± ¡°Your drunken ramblings are hard to listen to, Kill,¡± I mutter, wincing at him. ¡°Go to bed already, ye old fart.¡± To my surprise, a snoring sound reaches my ear. I look over to find Killian sleeping in a completely upright position, cigarette in mouth and mug in hand. With a sigh, I mutter to myself, ¡°what a weird guy to get stuck with¡­¡± The beer beginning to get to me, I put out his cigarette and lay my head in my hands. ¡°Going to Paris is something I¡¯ve always thought about¡­ though I have no idea if they¡¯re even there. But Japan, huh¡­ I¡¯d get to see where the Shibutani Group operates. I might even get to meet¡­ Shibu¡­rei¡­¡± As my consciousness fades out, a memory comes to me. It¡¯s one I have no recollection of, though the place is familiar. The long boardwalk on the coast of Reykjavik, and the many houses and restaurants lining it. A place I only ever experienced while projecting. Since I don¡¯t know this memory, it must be a dream I¡¯ve forgotten. I¡¯m floating, like a projection, across the boardwalk, like I¡¯m being propelled. Someone is calling my name behind me, but I can only continue forward. The festival music roars from ahead, drawing me in. However, I come to a fork in the pier, as a path splits off to the right where two houses lie adjacent. The two houses feel oddly familiar, drawing me in with their smoking chimneys and colorful d¨¦cor. However, the chords of a piano strike from the festival tent up ahead, as if reaching for my heart itself. Before I can move in one direction, though, the dream fades away. The scene shifts once more, to the luminous streets of Paris. Killian walks alongside me, wearing a loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt that goes poorly with his black beret. ¡°Alright, Cathal, it¡¯s vacation time,¡± he declares eagerly. I¡¯ll be seeing the Eiffel Tower and various other tourist attractions, so you do your searching on your own.¡± Perhaps noticing my anxiousness, he leaves me alone to find my own leads. Of course, I¡¯ve done plenty of research, never finding any information on my parents¡¯ whereabouts. They certainly would be careful, just as I have. However, I know the place they always talked about returning to. Taking a taxi, I arrive at the home of my mother¡¯s parents, my grandparents whom I¡¯ve never met. The meeting ends as quickly as it begins, without any information. They wanted nothing to do with me, probably assuming I was a journalist. Even when I risked myself by telling them my real name, they merely grew angry and insisted that they had never heard from my mother since the incident ten years prior. Dejected and frustrated at myself for wasting the opportunity Killian gave me, I walk aimlessly around town. A rain shower begins suddenly, compelling me to take shelter underneath a parasol at the caf¨¦ I was passing by. I sit at the small table under the parasol, and retrieve my new compact laptop from my briefcase. I browse various news articles related to astral projection, as well as news regarding the World Neuroscience Institute. One piece tells of the new branch recently built in Japan¡¯s Shibuya District, a quasi-independent company called ¡°Worldbeaters Inc.¡± The company has made significant headway in the neuroscience world already, boasting discoveries in the exploration of consciousness. They say that they¡¯ve made the human consciousness quantifiable, that it¡¯s only a matter of time before consciousness is made extractable, therefore making the concept of human cyborgs, free of the threat of cancers and other illness, a thing of reality. Much of the article¡¯s wordy pontification is based largely on theory, though there is some empirical evidence included to back up their claims. Apparently, researchers have located the nerve impulses that are responsible for the different ¡®measurables¡¯ of the human ego, or consciousness. Through these nerve impulses, certain ¡®measurables¡¯ such as memories and personality are accessible, and with the right processing machinery, these measurables can be extracted and quantified via electrical signals. The researcher¡¯s credited for these findings are listed as Mathias Frankfurt, as well as the unnamed ¡°Director¡± of Worldbeaters. A stark melancholy overcomes me as I read about their accomplishments, and their hopes for future revolutionary work. My parents¡¯ dream, and my duty inherited from them, feels so far away. Here in the place I always hoped, in the back of my mind, that I would find them, I¡¯m faced with the realization that those dreams were doomed to die within my empty heart. The vague dream I gained from my otherworldly vision, to protect the beautiful song of the one who saved me when I was lost, is all that I have. Yet, if I or my parents cannot be allowed to realize our original dream, to reach the singularity in the stars and find the enlightenment that was supposed to save the world- how can I possibly protect that beautiful melody? Suddenly, a notification pops up on my browser- a new video from Shiburei. I eagerly retrieve my raggedy pair of headphones, and listen to the new song. As the striking chords reverberate from my ears to my chest, I sweep my long, well-kept hair out of my bespectacled eyes and gaze upon the scenery. The midday sun-shower leaves glimpses of sunlight through the parasol, fading in and out with the falling raindrops that gently assault my black formal shoes. Finally, I spot Killian trotting down the street unassumingly, holding his black beret over his head as if it were an umbrella. A genuine smile breaks across my face as I write a comment, thanking Shiburei for lifting me up once again. After submitting my comment, I replay the video performance of the new song, a content smile on my face. ¡°It¡¯s been over a year. Not once have I had to escape to that place since I left. You might have really saved me.¡± I mutter to myself, wincing as I look 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.¡± Killian appears alongside me underneath the parasol. He seems to be holding something within his jacket pocket. However, after seeing my content visage, his expression changes a bit, and he never withdraws his hand from within his jacket. The scene shifts back to the same Irish hostel we stayed at before. Killian paces around the room with a cigarette in his mouth, staring at his phone. I calmly watch him from my bed as I tinker with my own phone. Bringing up Shiburei¡¯s profile, I check her uploads, only to find nothing new in the last three weeks- an unusually long gap for her. ¡°It¡¯s been three weeks, and still nothing,¡± he says with a gruff, frustrated tone. ¡°My local contact just up and disappears, and I can¡¯t get through to anybody from the Shibutani Group. This stinks of something horrid.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve never been ignored by them before?¡± I ask coolly, crossing my legs as I lay comfortably, hiding the anxiousness floating around my head as I stare at the inactive profile on the screen. ¡°Never like this,¡± he responds, his coarse voice cracking with panic. ¡°It can¡¯t be because we didn¡¯t take the job¡­ could it?¡± ¡°Is it unlike them to make a decision like that?¡± I ask, furrowing my brow. ¡°I don¡¯t see how you didn¡¯t think of tha-¡± ¡°No, they wouldn¡¯t cut me off just because of that,¡± he interjects, stopping in his tracks with wide eyes. It must be something else¡­ it must be their strange ability to predict future events.¡± ¡°That thing you mentioned on the pier when we met?¡± I inquire, narrowing my gaze on the frigid-looking man who I had always known to be composed. ¡°¡¯Laplace¡¯s Demon¡¯ is what they call it,¡± he mutters, sitting on his bed, a hollow expression on his face. ¡°Some sort of ability to compute factors of human nature and reality, predicting future events based solely off of past events. Also known as ¡®determinism¡¯. I have no idea how they do it, but it¡¯s been spot on all these years. I¡¯ve followed its guidance and taken these jobs because I believed in its accuracy.¡± He pauses, holding his head in his hands as if experiencing some sort of existential crisis. ¡°I found meaning in the work I did for them all this time,¡± Killian continues in a shaky voice. ¡°If they cut me out now¡­ that must mean they¡¯ve seen a future in which I¡¯m no longer needed to do this work¡­ in order to maintain harmony in the world.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve really lost it, Kill,¡± I grunt, putting my phone in my pocket as I sit up. ¡°If it meant so much to you, why didn¡¯t you just take the damn job in the first place? We wouldn¡¯t be stuck in this situation, then.¡± ¡°Did you want to kidnap a young girl?¡± he asks, peering at me through the fingers covering his face. ¡°To remove a child from their parents, like what you went through?¡± ¡°What the hell are you saying?¡± I blurt out angrily. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ve separated many families by killing the fathers of many children, right?¡± ¡°It¡¯s different, Jean,¡± he mutters, staring deep into my eyes, which forces me to avert my gaze. ¡°You haven¡¯t actually imagined carrying that sort of thing out¡­ dealing with a crying child, suppressing their voice as they scream for their mother and father to save them¡­ just what kind of trauma would you be forced to relive?¡± ¡°So then¡­!¡± I exclaim, leaping to my feet with a furious glare, unable to contain my emotions. ¡°You acted for my sake? You risked throwing away the life you valued and believed in, for my sake? I never asked you to do any of that!¡± ¡°That may be,¡± he whispers, covering his face with his hands. ¡°But I couldn¡¯t bring myself to put you through it. Rather, I don¡¯t think I could have gone through with it, even if I acted without you.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I demand, desperation seeping from my lips. ¡°Because¡­¡± he mutters in a low, coarse voice, removing his hands to reveal a pitiful face. ¡°You taught me what it feels like¡­ to want to protect something¡­¡± ¡°You¡­¡± I stammer, my lips trembling with shock at his words. ¡°It¡¯s okay, even if I don¡¯t get any jobs. If they¡¯ve seen a future in which I¡¯m not necessary, that means my job is done, right? I can rest easy, knowing that.¡± ¡°What about me?¡± I shout, ripping the raggedy pair of headphones off my neck and throwing them onto the ground, breaking them into several pieces. ¡°What¡¯s left for me? You said I had potential to perform these jobs that had to be done, so where do I go from here?¡± ¡°You have do have an exceptional amount of potential for that,¡± he replies with a weak smile, pulling his black beret over his forehead. ¡°And you have the potential for much more¡­¡± Unable to hear anymore or face the sudden onslaught of emotions, I storm out of the room, slamming the door before he can say more. Sitting at the hostel¡¯s pub, I watch the mounted television as it displays the news. ¡°An eleven-year-old girl was abducted from her house outside of Dublin yesterday, police say,¡± the newscaster reads. Drawn in by the headline, I fix my eyes on the picture of the girl shown on screen. ¡°I¡¯ve seen her somewhere,¡± I mutter underneath my breath as I set my mug down. ¡°That¡¯s the girl that was taken by ¡°Ireland¡¯s Finest¡±, a man several barstools down whispers to his neighbor. ¡°That legendary gang took a job like that?¡± the other man replies, even louder than the first. ¡°Must be lots of money involved,¡± the first man replies. ¡°Though I wonder why it was that girl?¡± Another image rips my attention solely onto the screen, drowning out their conversation. ¡°This is Kaspar Reid, the father of the abducted Mary Reid,¡± the reporter says in a solemn tone, standing next to a burly, bearded man. ¡°That¡¯s¡­.¡± I mutter, completely shocked by what I¡¯m seeing- that he bearded man on the screen is none other than the man whose ghostly figure I had watched for over a month as an astral projection. I had never learned his name, but his face was undoubtedly that of the man on the screen. The man who, despite his tearful face, had clearly been taking much better care of himself in the last seven years. ¡°I just want my daughter back,¡± he says to the reporter amidst a fit of sobbing. ¡°Whoever took her, for whatever reason, I just hope that they can find it in their heart to return her to her pitiful father, who knows nothing left in this world besides his love for her. She lives with a rare heart condition, and I¡¯m so worried that she¡¯s suffering, so, please¡­¡± His emotional speech brings me back to the memory of his ghostly figure, wailing in despair at the sight of his family living without him. My heart is wrought with something inexplicable, watching his weeping figure on screen. There is no logic to explain what I feel, how to process the surge of guilt weighing my heart down like an anchor. ¡°What have I¡­.¡± I mumble, placing my head in my hand. Having returned to our vacant room, I pack my things in minutes. As I throw my briefcase over my shoulder and turn for the door, something compels me to turn around. I find a pen and notepad, and jot down a short, simple message: ¡°I will continue to do the dirty work that must be done, in your place¡­ so that you and the rest of the world can sleep peacefully ¨C Cathal¡± Stopping my hands from shaking, I gently lay the note on the nightstand next to Killian¡¯s bed, placing a bottle cap on top of it before making for the door. With a short exhalation, I open the door, and without looking back, shut it behind me. The scene shifts to the inside of a pub known as Brandy¡¯s. I¡¯m sitting next to the burly man I¡¯d seen on the news, whom I¡¯d watched for hours as a child. ¡°You¡¯re quite young for a mercenary,¡± the weary man grunts quietly. ¡°I¡¯m more a private investigator than a merc,¡± I reply 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¡­¡± I reply. ¡°They control the underground, and have political influence as well. They¡¯re likely even watching the people in this pub. 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,¡± I answer 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 this, 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. But, to think, I would meet you again, after all these years¡­¡± ¡°So, you did recognize me?¡± I mutter, careful not to look his way. ¡°Of course,¡± he whispers with conviction. ¡°Aside from the name ¡®JC¡¯, I could never forget your face, no matter how much you¡¯ve grown. After all, you saved me from being kept as a lab rat by the World Neuroscience Institute.¡± ¡°I only acted on impulse,¡± I respond, keeping my head down. ¡°What happened after that, anyway? I was¡­ asleep for a long time.¡± ¡°Mhmm,¡± he grunts, regarding me with a solemn nod. ¡°I understand you entered a completely different state from the projection that we took part in under your parents¡¯ supervision. I won¡¯t ask about that because it isn¡¯t any of my concern¡­ anyway, I was able to live free after that incident thanks to your killing of the Colonel and his men. Though, because of it, I was made into a media spectacle. It was made public that I had fallen to hard times financially and turned to drugs, and because of that, my wife finally refused to let me back into the house.¡± ¡°That woman that I saw that day, with your daughter,¡± I mumble slowly. ¡°Yes, the woman I once loved more than anything,¡± he answered, hiding his face with his hand. ¡°Even though the incident brought me to my senses, and drove me to return to my family in a sober and apologetic state, she wouldn¡¯t have anything to do with me. Even after a year of proving myself responsible, she turned me away. But, Mary¡­¡± ¡°The kid was always waiting for you¡­¡± I mutter softly, taking a drink. ¡°She took me back with open arms,¡± he responds, his voice shaking. ¡°Admittedly, I used that, along with my legal rights, to earn my way back into my home. Her mother couldn¡¯t handle this, and left us, returning to her hometown.¡± ¡°So, you got your family back, but only after completely destroying it,¡± I say, finally glancing in his direction. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true,¡± he replies. ¡°But after I took Mary overseas, to my hometown outside of Dublin, we lived a very happy life together.¡± He pauses, sniffing as he rubs his nose, trying his best to hold back the tears. ¡°We were both very happy to have each other, and lived as a family, until a month ago.¡± ¡°I truly am sorry,¡± I respond in a solemn tone. ¡°Not only could I have prevented this if I had taken the job as I was supposed to, but it¡¯s because of me, because of that incident seven years ago-that your name was made public. I don¡¯t know what their reason for taking her is, but they probably found her because of that incident.¡± ¡°You have nothing to apologize for, Jean,¡± he responds in a soft, pitiful voice. ¡°Like I said, it¡¯s thanks to your actions that I was given a second chance, given all these years with Mary¡­ it¡¯s so much more than I ever deserved. And you, you lost your parents, and your childhood¡­¡± ¡°I did not lose my parents,¡± I respond firmly. ¡°We simply went our separate ways.¡± ¡°Is that how you honestly feel about it?¡± Kaspar asks in a nearly desperate tone. ¡°Are you really okay with their decision to flea on their own? Leaving you¡­ for their own sake?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± My words falter as I stare at my empty hands, gathering my thoughts. ¡°I don¡¯t hold anything against them,¡± I continue, not a trace of emotion in my voice. ¡°Maybe I should. Maybe somewhere in my heart, I do resent them for leaving me to protect themselves and their dream. But in my head, I understand their decision. It was only natural that they chose their dreams, which were still unfulfilled.¡± ¡°And what about their son?¡± Kaspar whispers, the empathy seeping from his tone. ¡°By deciding to help you, I made a choice that hindered their plan of staying together as a family,¡± I respond with a certain degree of apathy. ¡°I failed them, and so they left without me.¡± My words come out undeterred as I reach for a cigarette- the same brand Killian always used. I light it and take a drag for the first time. Having watched him do it countless times, it comes second nature to me. ¡°And what about the reports that they had packed their things, and had already left?¡± Kaspar mutters with some hesitance. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I answer calmly, exhaling. ¡°What matters is that I chose to help you, and that they left. That¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you want to see them again?¡± he asks, trying his best not to look at me. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I respond shortly. ¡°At least, not right now, I think. It¡¯s hard to say- I don¡¯t blame them, but I also don¡¯t have any desire to reunite with them. I think it¡¯s enough that I¡¯ve taken their teachings to heart, and have taken on their dreams, in my own way. It¡¯s been eight years, but I guess I just haven¡¯t had enough time to figure out how I really feel about it. That¡¯s probably why I couldn¡¯t be honest with my recent mentor¡­ why I¡¯ve let him and others down, all this time.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± he responds curtly, nodding his head. ¡°It must have been hard for you¡­¡± ¡°No, I¡¯ve become stronger,¡± I respond with conviction. ¡°Just like you did. That¡¯s why I¡¯m going to use my strength to find your daughter.¡± ¡°Thank you, Jean¡­¡± The scene shifts to a small bed in a hostel I¡¯ve never been in before. I am typing up notes about my findings, noting that a number of members of ¡°Ireland¡¯s Finest¡± had recently boarded a ship in route to Japan. I had always assumed this, but waited for confirmation before making any travel plans. I decide to browse my library of notes I¡¯ve made on different countries over the last two years, thanks largely to Killian¡¯s teaching. I search for ¡®Japan¡¯, and before any notes, a picture I don¡¯t recognize appears. I click to enlarge the picture, and my hands freeze as if paralyzed. Killian, dressed in his awful Hawaiian shirt, is at the right of the picture, holding the camera as he poses, grinning dumbly and tipping his black beret. Next to him are the smiling figures of the grandparents I briefly spoke with in Paris. In the bottom left-hand corner of the picture, a line of computer-scribbled text reads, ¡°Your parents are in Japan¡±. Unable to process my emotions, I exhale into a choppy laugh, grinning dumbly at his awkward pose. ¡°Thank you, Kill¡­¡± The chain of memories ceases its playback as I return to my lost dream on the boardwalk, where the enticing music that had boomed loudly has now completely disappeared. I follow the other path, leading to the two houses. Gazing into the houses, I discover one inhabiting my parents and a ten-year-old version of myself, sitting near a fireplace and exchanging gifts. In the other house, Kaspar Reid sits with his wife and daughter at a large dining table overflowing with gourmet foods, laughing as they eat. I look back into the first house, which has changed to a luxury hotel. Killian sits at the fireplace, flinging bottlecaps at my teenaged self, who smirks as he deflects them. I try to force my attention back toward the other house, but my eyes are blurred by something foreign. I can¡¯t see past the blur welling in my eyes and rendering me immobile. Seeking a reprieve, I attempt to turn back to the festival that had been taking place down the other path of the boardwalk. I listen for the music, but nothing comes. Only the sound of my short, choppy breaths resounds with the splashing of waves underneath the boardwalk. I press my glassy hands to my face just as the blurriness overflows from my eyes, waking me from my dream. Intermission - A Girls Tears I awake to the sound of static. The theater screen has ceased its playback, reverting to black and white static. I stare at my hands- rather, at Mathais¡¯ hands whom I am possessing through Aku. ¡°You¡­ call that normal?¡± Mary mutters from next to me. ¡°You say you¡¯re overwhelmingly normal, with that childhood?¡± ¡°That¡¯s only the first showing,¡± I answer in a murmur, staying my eyes on my hands. ¡°Besides, isn¡¯t there something else you want to comment on? You saw some very vivid images of your father, after all.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll deal with that later,¡± she whispers. ¡°For now, we have to think on our feet, don¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Oh, would you two like me to leave?¡± Mirei prods, forcing my gaze toward her grinning figure. ¡°I have a lot of things I¡¯d like to say about what we just saw, as well¡­ but I can tell when I¡¯m unwanted. It was my choice to work alone, so I don¡¯t mind, of course.¡± She trots away toward the exit, throwing me a bittersweet smirk on the way. ¡°See you on the outside, Aku.¡± ¡°Say, are you still JC?¡± Mary asks in a frank tone, still standing next to me. ¡°Yes, I am.¡± ¡°Prove it,¡± she says, wrenching my head in her direction and glaring daggers into my eyes. ¡°When I was driving you both in the last world¡­ well, the rearview mirror shifted, and I saw the beauty spot on your inner thigh, due to your ripped clothes. It matched the intel your father gave m-¡± I¡¯m forced silent by an elbow, violently thrust into my gut. ¡°Let¡¯s decide on a plan to escape the horde of people working with Mirei,¡± she says in a calmer voice. After a brief discussion, Mary follows Mirei out the exit, while I stay back. I watch her back until she passes through the exit door, and take a seat in the top row of the theatre seating. I stare at the static on the screen, pondering how the next showing will go. If possible, I¡¯d like to avoid it altogether, but Mirei probably won¡¯t allow that. She¡¯s too powerful, having acquired the strength of both the Shibutani Group and Ireland¡¯s Finest. And then there¡¯s Aku, and Worldbeaters. I don¡¯t want them to see the me in the next showing. Surely, it will display my most pathetic side. They¡¯ll understand my normality entirely too well. I¡¯d like them to understand, but I still don¡¯t want them to see it. Though, perhaps it will lead to this ¡®root¡¯ of myself that Aku mentioned. All the more reason they shouldn¡¯t see it. At least, I have to be there if they do see it. As I sit, deep in thought, sleep suddenly comes over me, and my consciousness is ripped from Mathais¡¯ body. Before I¡¯m forced to return to my real body in the forest, I project into as many vines as possible, and surface just outside the theater. Mary stands on the precipice between the theater and the grassy earth. She glares at Mirei, who hangs her head while walking calmly across the clearing, about the length of a soccer field between the theatre and the forest. Around a hundred men in black suits outline the clearing, all pointing their guns at Mary. ¡°Did you really think I would go along with this?¡± she barks across the clearing, stopping Mirei in her tracks, and prompting me to stop my many vines from pouncing. ¡°Even if you were on the way to victory, we¡¯ll never be on the same wavelength. Maybe I¡¯m understanding all this wrong, but I don¡¯t think you can force Aku¡¯s power on me, choosing me to be the one to live on, if we aren¡¯t on the same wavelength.¡± Mirei takes a long breath in, and an even longer breath out, before turning her head. ¡°I¡¯m not as strong as you, Mary,¡± she says, a tinge of regret in her voice. ¡°I want nothing more than to work with you, to rely on you. But if I do that, I¡¯ll be throwing away the growth I experienced in my world. I want to save you with my own strength. Since it¡¯s the last thing I¡¯ll do, I want it to be under my own power. I hope you can respect that¡­¡± ¡°Mirei¡­¡± Mary responds, her voice shaking. ¡°You¡¯re missing the point. It just doesn¡¯t make sense; you¡¯re so ready to martyr yourself for me, but I¡¯m right here¡­.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll force you to join wavelengths with me, if I have to,¡± Mirei declares confidently, turning her back to Mary as she walks toward the forest. Suddenly, the black suits all rush toward Mary, guns raised. She stands her ground, eyeing the clearing. Just as she expects, I whip dozens of vines across the clearing, throwing countless black suits aside. Several vines reach out for Mary, who outstretches her arms readily. I pull her away as if on a ski, escaping into the forest as more vines fight off the armed men. Maintaining my projection on vines in different locations proves difficult, but I strain myself and fight through it, bringing Mary far away from the theater. Exhausted, I release her, as most of my vines wilt. With the few vines I have left, I survey the area, confirming it as clear. I project once more, searching north with my vines for the nearest theater. I find it in the entertainment district, surrounded by more of Mirei¡¯s men. My wither almost as soon as I reach the theater. I return to Mary, and quickly secure the area once more. I¡¯m still recovering, so I can only use several vines. Mary watches me curiously from her seat atop a fallen tree as I scour the area. ¡°If you¡¯re at your limit, you should just rest,¡± she says, raising her brow at me with a relaxed expression. Hesitating, I return to her with only one withering vine, and place myself on the fallen tree next to her. She picks my vine up, and places it on her soft thighs, patting it gently as she chuckles through her nose. ¡°You know, I think I prefer this version of you,¡± she says, grinning weakly and looking to the side. ¡°It must have been hard, living with so much guilt when you were just a kid. It¡¯s hard to believe you knew my father at his lowest point, and even saw me as a child. To think we were in the same town¡­ almost makes me wish we would have grown up together; how much simpler life could have been for both of us, you know?¡± As she speaks softly, a light rain begins to fall, prompting her to look skyward. The rain mats her jet-black hair to her cheekbone, which she ignores. ¡°It¡¯s even harder to believe you came to Japan for me,¡± she remarks, looking at me with a soft, pitiful smile. ¡°I do wish you would have found me sooner, though¡­¡± With her words, the rain begins to pour. As Mary tends to her soaked hair, I notice several figures approaching. Aided by the voluminous rain, it seems a few dozen suited men have snuck into the area, surrounding us. ¡°Ireland¡¯s Finest¡­¡± Mary mutters, clenching her fist. ¡°Even in a dreamworld, you sick lot are after me¡­ why don¡¯t you try to get girlfriends or something?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a hot commodity in this world, too,¡± the man taking the lead answers in a whimsical voice. Touching his top-hat, he raises his automatic gun. ¡°If we give you over to the Shibutani Group, the prize is even larger than it was in the real world. This time, though,¡± he pauses, smiling sadistically, ¡°they¡¯ll also pay for your lifeless body.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. As the rain pours down, I throw Mary to the ground, raising several new vines from the earth. Gunfire erupts in the small clearing, tearing my vines to pieces as I struggle to deflect each bullet and cover Mary. Each new vine puts more strain on my body, and each bullet feels realer than the last. I want to move Mary somewhere else, but the constant barrage of gunfire demands every ounce of my attention. Sprouting new vines puts even more strain on me, forcing me to focus on making fewer vines last longer. While I fight, I use a small vine to jot ¡®run¡¯ into the earth. Upon seeing this, Mary gives a short nod, before staggering to her feet. However, just as she turns to run in the opposite direction, a tall man appears from behind a tree, and wraps his arms around her like a snake. Mary struggles, unable to free herself from the man¡¯s tight grip. The man attempts to reach into his pocket, still focused on restraining her. I must decide between maintaining my focus on deflecting the gunfire, and reaching out to dispatch the man. As exhausted as I am, I¡¯m sure I cannot manage both. However, if I shift my focus, the gunfire will likely reach her. The only choice is to trust her. I¡¯ve seen her skills firsthand, so I know she stands a fair shot at coming out unscathed. But just as I think this, the man manages to withdraw a dagger from his pocket, still holding Mary hostage. Now there truly is no choice but to come to her aid. Just as I begin to redirect one of my vines, a loud bang resounds from just outside the small clearing. ¡°Focus on defense!¡± a gruff voice barks from the direction of the gunshot. The man who had been restraining Mary falls to the wet earth, half of his head blown away. Mary topples over as well, grasping at her rib. Gritting her teeth, she crawls to the dead man, and retrieves a pistol from his belt holster. Just as she begins firing in between my vines at the horde of men, the bang of a rifle sounds again. One of the men are shot in the side, and then another in the head. The group begins firing blindly into the woods, taking some of their attention off of me. This allows me to go on the offensive along with Mary, taking out ten men while still deflecting the gunfire. The group panics, and shifts their focus back to me. ¡°Spread out!¡± the man in the lead shouts, prompting the several dozen men left to scatter, widening the range of fire. I strain myself further, stretching out my vines to cover the ground. However, doing this creates several gaps, allowing a few bullets by. ¡°Gah!¡± Mary cries, the peak of her shoulder struck by a bullet. ¡°HOLD ON, MARY!¡± the gruff voice from before belts over the sound of pouring rain. A large, bearded man bearing a thick overcoat and an oversized rifle storms into the clearing, firing several shots as he barrels his way around my vines. With an ungraceful slide, he moves in front of Mary, completely blocking her from the line of fire with his massive frame. ¡°F-father¡­?¡± Mary mutters into his back, shock resounding in her voice. ¡°You came for me?¡± ¡°Thank JC for leading me here,¡± the burly man grunts, standing firm as he fires his rifle into the crowd. The sight reinvigorates me, allowing me to manage more vines and let fewer stray bullets past my defense. While I defend, Kaspar attacks, felling one Irish bandit after another. After ten shots, only ten of the men remain. However, the remaining men are clearly the most skilled, moving deftly and tearing through my vines with precision. As the strain on my body grows yet again, blood begins to splash from the stricken vines. It¡¯s as if my very arms are being impaled over and over again. The burning sensation heightens, and my vines begin to feel weaker with every new spawn. My defense suffers as a result, and Kaspar is shot in the leg and shoulder. ¡°Father!¡± Mary shouts from behind him, desperation filling her voice like I¡¯ve never heard before. ¡°Don¡¯t worry!¡± Kaspar yells back, firing three shots in quick succession, each hitting their target. ¡°I can fight, too, Father!¡± Mary cries, pulling at the thick coat on his back. ¡°I know you can,¡± Kaspar responds through grit teeth, taking another bullet in his knee. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to fight, right now.¡± His breaths grow heavier while my vines grow weaker, and he trades blows with two more men. ¡°Your father is here for you, finally,¡± he grunts, standing tall as his torso and arm leak blood. ¡°Please, Mary¡­ just this once, let me protect you.¡± Mary cries silently, digging her head into Kaspar¡¯s back. The sounds of gunfire begin to dwindle, as the number of enemies falls to four. All of the men have taken at least one bullet from Kaspar¡¯s shotgun, but are continuing their assault on my vines. Finally, Kaspar fells one of them, but takes two more shots in his arms as a result. A loud thud resounds as his shotgun hits the earth, his massive, bloodied arms laying limply at his sides. ¡°JC, would you do me one last favor?¡± Kaspar grunts, his voice labored. Immediately understanding his wish, I redirect one small vine, planting it in Kaspar¡¯s temple. The vine cuts itself, and the newly cut end dives into Mary¡¯s head. A surge of memories pours through my mind, but I do my best to direct them smoothly, while defending against the remaining gunmen. However, the memories are so strong, so clear and vibrant, that I cannot ignore them. Kaspar¡¯s vivid memories of his life with Mary when she was little, before he fell upon hard times, strike me harder than I would have expected. The way he holds her, dancing with her playfully, invokes something within me. Memories of their life together in Ireland flow by, filled with images of Mary skating on ice, taking professional photos, and singing in school events. So many memories fill up Kaspar¡¯s head, it¡¯s almost like I¡¯m seeing every day of Mary¡¯s young life through the eyes of her father. Not a night passed where Kaspar did not make a piping hot meal for the two, singing and dancing merrily despite exhaustion from overwork. When she broke out into tears due to being rejected from a modeling gig, he held her tight until she stopped crying. On her birthdays, Kaspar would bake a huge strawberry cake and buy her pieces of abstract art that she was interested in, though it would always be something more luxurious than she had asked or hoped for. The girl adored him, not because of the food or presents, but because of the time he gave her. Because of the genuine smile he wore every second he had with her, the unconditional love he had for her. And when the memories shift to the days after Mary was taken, Kaspar no longer smiled a true smile. He would continue working hard, cooking meals, and volunteering to look for missing children. He still smiled and made small talk, but his face never regained the color it had when she was there. He spent most of his time alone praying, and researching the Shibutani Group who had hired the bandits. Knowing he was being watched by the bandits, he made sure to keep his routine, communicating with the younger me through direct messages. However, once I finally sent him the message that declared my resounding failure, he could no longer smile. His sunken face grew even paler, and he stopped interacting with almost everybody. He did the bare minimum to maintain a living, hardly taking care of himself. Yet, through it all, he still prayed every night, and still maintained Mary¡¯s room, decorating it with colorful abstract art pieces that she always loved. He eventually saved up enough money to buy a brand-new house, but kept it all sealed in the account he had once started as a college fund. Years after his last contact with the younger me, Kaspar receives a cryptic message from the present me. It notes that not much can be explained, but that there is still hope. The message urges him to come to Japan as soon as possible, declaring the bandits should have lost interest in watching him. Kaspar puts his life on hold immediately, and books a flight. He arrives in the Shibuya ward of Tokyo, and settles in a modest inn, awaiting further instructions. One night, he¡¯s met at the inn¡¯s bar by a hooded man, who hands him a note. The note explains everything about Mary¡¯s current condition, and how I have been watching over her in the dream world. The sender demands that he be patient, not making any rash moves before he is contacted by me. Upon finishing the note, Kaspar drops to his knees in the alley behind the bar. Declaring that there¡¯s still hope, he repeats ¡°thank you, God,¡± while bawling hysterically. As the playback of memories end, Kaspar struggles to turn his body toward Mary. Tears streaming from her face, she wraps her arms around his large frame. He holds her tighter than ever, a vivacious grin breaking over his face. ¡°I¡¯m so glad I got to see you all grown up,¡± he boasts, his voice shaking. ¡°I know you¡¯ve had it so hard, and I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t protect you, that I couldn¡¯t spend every day with you¡­ that I was not enough as your father.¡± ¡°No¡­¡± Mary replies through sobs. ¡°You were more than enough. You were everything.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t deserve your kindness, my sweet girl,¡± he whimpers, still bearing his huge grin as he begins to slump downward. The sound of gunfire has ceased, as I have the remaining three men pinned to the ground, using what little strength left in my vines to strangle them. Only the sound of the pouring rain accompanies Mary¡¯s sobs as Kaspar¡¯s bloodied body sinks toward the earth, her arms still grasped tightly around him. ¡°I love you¡­ Mary¡­¡± he mutters, still grinning as his face goes pale. ¡°No¡­ no¡­¡± she stammers, holding his immense body as it goes limp. ¡°Why¡­ ah¡­¡± Her sobs grow into uncontrollable shrieks, and quickly evolve into ear-piercing screams. Her tears cascade onto Kaspar¡¯s still body as her screams become deafening, drowning out even the sound of the pouring rain. As if summoned by her screams of absolute despair, lightning pours into the forest almost synonymous to the rain. All I can see amidst the bright lights are the bandits struggling to their feet in an attempt to run away, my vines losing their strength, and the figure of Mary, still face-down, hugging her father. As the thunder cracks in unison with her screams, my vines are split into a million pieces, severing me from the girl¡¯s cries. Second Showing;Mania By the time I come to, I¡¯m back in my own body, strapped down by vines. My nose is dripping blood like a leaky faucet, and my vision is glossed over. It¡¯s as if I¡¯ve entered twilight, like I¡¯ve woken to a completely different world. The sky beyond the forest has been overcome with a purplish hue, the swirling ball in the distant space growing larger as it draws closer. I feel something heavy quiver behind me, but I cannot crane my neck back to look. My body is exhausted from the constant projection, but I have to jump back in. The feeble amount of rest I¡¯ve gotten will have to do. My head surges with the sensation of diving as I throw myself into the dark. As quick as ever, I find the place I¡¯m looking for and grasp ahold of the roots in the ground. I surface within another vine, and survey the area. The rain has stopped, and Mary stands with her back to me, her arms and legs matted with dirt and mud. I slither around to her side, and discover a patch of earth freshly disturbed, as if housing a newly planted sapling. She¡¯s staring at it with dry, swollen eyes, not daring to blink. Her expression bares no emotion, her dark brown eyes verging on pure black. She clenches her bloodied, dirtied hands weakly before turning her head. ¡°Finally,¡± she mutters in a hoarse voice. ¡°You¡¯re back. I¡¯ve already buried him. Let¡¯s go.¡± She extends her hand toward the end of my vine, her expression unchanging. With only a moment¡¯s hesitation, I clasp onto her muddied hand, and lead her north. I make haste, spawning countless vines in order to propel her faster. Within minutes, we arrive at the location of the second theater. The area around the fancy rustic brick building is less spacious than the first, thickets of trees crowding every wall. I confirm that no troops are waiting in hiding, and locate the moss-ridden entrance. Together, Mary and I enter, on high alert for enemies. Much like the first theater, however, the entrance is dark, narrow, and unoccupied. We follow the hallway to the lone theater room, and enter. Just as we turn the corner, my consciousness cuts out, and transfers to that of Aku¡¯s. Just like before, I¡¯m standing next to Mirei, whose distressed clothing matches her fatigued look. The screen shifts from black to stark white, before transforming into the wasteland from my dreams. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to learning more about you,¡± Mirei whispers softly, averting her eyes. ¡°I look forward to both of you lowering your opinions of me even further,¡± I respond in Mathais¡¯ voice. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s even possible?¡± Mary says in monotone as she approaches from behind. At the sound of her voice, Mirei bites her lip, careful not to take her eyes off the screen. Just like last time, Mary takes her position to my right as we all focus on the screen. I¡¯m immediately sucked in, assuming the position of the me on the screen, throwing the fiery golden ball toward the figure in the diving suit. Again, I run after throwing it. As I run, the scene shifts to a dark alley. Buildings surround me closely, with very little light radiating from the main street. My slender, black-clad frame slinks along the walls of the alley as I close in on my pray- a long haired Irish man I¡¯d been tailing since I arrived in Shibuya. Just as the alleys form a crossroad, I pounce on the man, whose back remains turned to me. As soon as I close in on him, knife readied, a series of gun shots erupt from my right side. Just as the sound reaches my ears, I feel several bullets pierce my right leg, scaling from my ankle to my thigh. The attack puts me on the cold cement, freeing the knife from my grasp. It clangs past the long-haired man, who stops and turns slowly in my direction. He looks down upon me with a calm, intimidating stare, his thin face lacking a trace of uncertainty. ¡°So, this is JC, the man who made his name working for the infamous Killian,¡± the man hisses in a low voice, arrogance seeping from his expression and tone. ¡°You certainly were hard to catch,¡± he continues, pacing to my side. With a smirk, he digs his boot firmly into my freshly wounded leg. I grit my teeth, suppressing the urge to yell in pain. My leg paralyzed by the bullet wounds, I find myself unable to even attempt an escape or reversal on the man- especially while a sniper is involved. ¡°I was careful¡­¡± I mutter through gnashed teeth. ¡°So, how¡­¡± ¡°You made two mistakes,¡± the man proclaims with increased hostility, digging his foot deeper into my wounded leg. ¡°The first was underestimating Ireland¡¯s Finest.. the second was that you underestimated the Shibutani Group and their resources. The second you made it to Japan, you were marked. Even as careful and meticulous as you are, we knew your movements. The Shibutani Group possesses some fine technology, in addition to having connections everywhere you could possibly imagine. You were outmatched from the moment you met with Kaspar Reed, JC.¡± Rendered speechless, I can only search for a way out. It¡¯s clear the man intends to kill me here, and is just toying with me. ¡°Since we feel a little sorry for you and your hopeless plight, however,¡± he says, lifting his foot at last. ¡°We have decided to let you live. That is, if you swear fealty to the Shibutani Group, and surrender all of your weapons.¡± Moving in front me, he crouches down and smiles menacingly. ¡°What do you say? Do you think you can live a normal life, without sneaking around and killing for money? Go to school, find love and fulfillment- for the first time in your pitiful life, be a legitimate member of society. A switch flips at his words, and my leg regains its feeling. Using both legs to sweep him off his feet, I twist myself to his left side, reaching for his throat whilst using his body as a shield from the hidden gunman. However, he reacts swiftly, drawing his pistol from his belt and firing it wildly. The bullet hits my shoulder, stopping my arm from grasping his throat. Another gun-shot sounds from the east, and then several of different capacity follow. The first shot hits my right elbow. Three more bullets of a different capacity fly over our heads as we grapple, and another strikes his gun, knocking it out of his hand and several meters away. The man takes advantage of my wounded arms and leg, breaking free from me with a kick at my face. Staggering to his feet, he sprints down the alley until he¡¯s out of sight. I look up in the direction of the gunfire, only to see a glimpse of a hooded figure retreating to the east, leaving two gunmen dead in the alley. The scene shifts abruptly to a bland motel. I¡¯m leaving the receptionist desk, lugging three black duffle bags over my shoulder. ¡°I hope you enjoyed your stay,¡± the receptionist remarks in a monotone voice. The scene shifts again, landing me in another glum motel atrium. ¡°Please enjoy your stay, Mr. Cathal,¡± the receptionist mutters, stifling a yawn. I retreat to the stairs with a wave, and follow his directions to my room. Upon entering the small, dimly lit room, I promptly treat my wounds. As I finish wrapping my leg, I begin to unpack my duffle bags. While laying the several dozen firearms across the small bed, I notice a small handwritten note on the bed-post. ¡°Wherever you go, we will know. Please check your illegal belongings in at the desk and give up.¡± I drop the note to the floor, unable to move my empty hands. Slumping down on the bed, I glance over my duffle bags. Protruding from one bag are the broken pair of headphones I haven¡¯t used in a year. I let my back fall onto the bed, and stare at the ceiling without any expression. Minutes later, I¡¯m walking away from the receptionist desk, only one small duffle bag over my shoulder. ¡°Thank you for your stay,¡± he says, hauling the three large duffle bags over the counter top. Ignoring him, I take a step out into the dark night. I glance at my watch to find it¡¯s 3AM. Unsure of my next destination, I wander the streets aimlessly, without attempting to go unseen. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± I mutter, my face still devoid of any expression or emotion. The scene shifts to a familiar place. Gentle winds toss cherry-blossoms from their trees, one falling onto the keys of my laptop as I sit, typing out a message. ¡°I have been forced to give up my search due to circumstances out of my control. It is best to consider the matter over, and try to move on. I am very sorry¡­. -JC¡± I click to send the message, and close the laptop without bothering to remove the cherry blossom, holding my head in my hands. Something like static noise reaches my ears, prompting me to peek through my enclosed hands. A slender, dark-haired girl approaches from the crowd of people attending a lecture in the middle of the park. I had discovered this open-air lecture online in my search for something affordable to commit my time to, to show the people watching from the shadows that I¡¯ve conceded to mixing in with society here. This particular lecture was driven by a sort of cult of environmentalists led by scholars, professors, and professional environmentalists seeking to educate the community on the environment, and forest preservation. Having tuned out most of the lecture whilst working up the courage to send my message, I had made eye contact with a particularly pretty girl, whose dark hair and tan skin captivated me. Much to my surprise, this same girl approaches as the lecture disperses, delivering a parting message to several friends. The words reach my ear as static noise for some reason, as I attempt to calm my nerves. ¡°Do you mind if I join you?¡± Her words pierce my ears like tiny needles, waking up my brain as a whole. I gaze upon her figure, adorned with jeans and a black leather jacket. Her deep brown eyes enrapture me, reminding me of my mother. I realize, while she waits for an answer with an innocent smile on her face, that I haven¡¯t taken note of the color of any one person¡¯s eyes since the last time I saw my mother. ¡°Not at all,¡± I answer her without hesitation, much to my own surprise. Broadening her smile, she takes a seat next to me. ¡°I¡¯m Genevieve. What¡¯s your name?¡± she asks, setting her small bag on the table before turning her back to it to match my position. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ JC.¡± ¡°JC, huh?¡± she says with a curious look at me. The words that follow reach me as static once more, but our conversation continues for several hours, until the sun begins to set. ¡°I¡¯ll see you at the next lecture?¡± she says softly. ¡°Right; I¡¯ll be there.¡± The scene shifts to another sunny day. Again, I¡¯m at the same park, attending the same lecture. However, this time I¡¯m seated in the grass with Genevieve and her friends. Once the lecture disperses, one of the friends who had been receptive to me joining, Gabriel, pulls me aside. ¡°So, JC, you understand the point of the lecture, right?¡± he asks pointedly, a mischievous grin on his face. ¡°Well, they¡¯re teaching us how the earth¡¯s environment is in danger, and how humans can utilize science to save it, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, of course that¡¯s the content, but the main message? Anything you really took away?¡± he prods expectantly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Not really.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll help you out then; as long as you¡¯re not just here for a girl, that is.¡± ¡°I was here before I met any of you, remember?¡± I say plainly, raising my brow at him. ¡°That¡¯s true!¡± he responds with a chuckle. ¡°Anyway, they might not be saying it outright, but the professor that referred us, Professor Kaisar, taught us the real take away- that in order to save the planet, we must treat the planet as God. God is almighty, and knows how to save the planet, but we must listen to him, to the planet itself.¡± He pauses to make sure I¡¯m listening. ¡°Therefore, we must adhere to God¡¯s will, which is to spread forestry like wildfire, and worship it as God himself!¡± The scene shifts abruptly, pulling me into a bus filled with people. Genevieve sits next to me, dozing off while resting her head on my shoulder. I watch as she folds her hand into mine. Sensing someone¡¯s gaze, I look up to see Gabriel peeking his head between the seats in front of us, smirking as he winks at me. The scene shifts to our destination, a barren field where a fire had ravaged a small town. We spend hours tilling the earth, and planting trees that promise to grow taller than buildings in the city. As I work alone, a tall, slender man near my age approaches me. ¡°You must be JC,¡± he says, grinning earnestly at me through his spectacles. ¡°Yes, and you must be Professor Kaisar,¡± I respond. ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you.¡± ¡°Likewise,¡± he says, shaking my hand. Gabriel and Genevieve have told me about you. It¡¯s odd to meet someone so quiet yet well-spoken. You hail from Ireland, correct?¡± ¡°Yes, that is correct.¡± ¡°It is odd,¡± he says. ¡°Your features strike me as Nordic rather than Irish.¡± ¡°I¡¯m impressed you noticed,¡± I answer calmly. ¡°You see, my parents were from Iceland. I was raised in Ireland.¡± ¡°So, you are Icelandic!¡± he responds heartily. ¡°But you said were? Are your parents no longer around?¡± ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± I say, nodding plainly. ¡°They passed in an accident when I was young.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he says with a slight bow. ¡°May I ask how you made it to Ireland? And here, for that matter!¡± ¡°I was born in Ireland,¡± I lie with a straight face. ¡°I was passed around orphanages after a relative threw me out. Eventually, I managed to save enough money to come to Japan.¡± ¡°And why Japan?¡± he presses further, head cocked with curiosity. ¡°I¡¯ve always been interested in neuroscience,¡± I answer honestly. ¡°I heard that Shibuya hosted the most acclaimed branch of the World Neuroscience Institute.¡± ¡°So, you are interested in Worldbeaters, then?¡± he says with wide eyes, as if he¡¯s thought of something. ¡°You could say that, yes.¡± ¡°Well, I happen to have a friend who works at their main lab,¡± he says with a grin. ¡°Maybe I could introduce you someday?¡± ¡°That would be very kind of you,¡± I answer, looking him in the eye for the first time. ¡°Let¡¯s plan on it,¡± he says with a nod. ¡°In exchange, I hope you¡¯ll continue to stay by Genevieve¡¯s side, and be a beacon for us to enact God¡¯s will to save the earth.¡± ¡°I want to be by her side, regardless,¡± I answer softly, looking down.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Good,¡± he says with a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m very happy for both of you.¡± I nod silently as he walks away, before returning to the tree I¡¯d been planting. The charming slender girl appears at my side, grinning precociously at my tree. Her words are stifled by static once more, as are my own. Our conversation slows in pace, and three more static-coated words leave her lips as they meet mine. The scene shifts to a small pond in a forest. My head is submerged underwater, while the group cheers around us. As I come up, my gaze seeks out the one crying into her hands as she looks on. Unable to contain my emotions, I dash through the water towards her, embracing her while Gabriel and others laugh joyously. The scene fades into another, two nights later. The Professor stands atop a stage at a performing arts center, speaking vehemently to a large crowd, whose cheers and gestures fuel him. I find myself standing alone in the crowd, listening intently to his words until I realize my friends aren¡¯t anywhere around me. At the front of the stage, I find her, hands in the air and a glint in her eyes as she gazes at the Professor. Assaulted by a strange feeling, I walk away from the crowd, and find a park bench to sit on outside the venue. I withdraw my phone, and check on Worldbeaters¡¯ latest findings. They seem to be making progressions every week, paving the way for consciousness to be extracted in the near future. Noticing an hour has gone by, I navigate my browser elsewhere, bringing up an old song of Shiburei¡¯s. A tear leaves my eye as the song cascades to its emotional climax, and I close my phone¡¯s display. Suddenly, Genevieve creeps over my shoulder, wearing the same precocious grin as always. ¡°What are you doing out here alone, Jean?¡± She sits next to me, inquiring about the music. Her words are filled with static, but my muffled words barely reach my ears. For the first time in my life, I explain Shiburei and her impact on my life. She listens while stroking my arm, but before I can explain why hearing her music now brought a tear to my eye, her lips move in on mine. The scene shifts once more, bringing me to the site of another town razed by wildfire. I¡¯m sitting down next to a pile of gardening tools. My dirtied hands swipe through pictures on my phone; a series of group photos of Genevieve, Gabriel, the Professor, and others. The caption ¡°Day 4 in Kyoto!¡± leads the first photo. Toggling over to my messages, I click on the message thread between her and I. My last message reads ¡°Enjoy your trip! Let me know when you get settled in.¡± It was sent four days ago, with no response. I slide my phone in my pocket, and continue planting trees alone while the sun sets. The scene shifts again, this time to a small caf¨¦. Gabriel sits across from me, wearing a somber look as he zooms in on a picture. In the corner of the shot of Gabriel and our other friend, I see the backside of a slender, dark-haired girl. There¡¯s no doubt who it is. There is neither any doubt who the person locking lips with her is; the bespectacled Professor. As all sense of life seems to leave me, Gabriel shakes his head, whispering ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± over and over. A shutter clicks over the scene, bringing me rapidly to the next. I¡¯m sitting on the same park bench where we met, allowing the pouring rain to soak through my clothes. She approaches me, already in tears, holding her phone in her hand. The rain belts down on us, drowning out even the static sound coming from her mouth as she bawls, unable to stop me from standing and leaving. The shutter clicks once more, bringing me to a small office space. I¡¯m wearing a suit and tie, and my long hair is tied back. I stand up as the tall blond man walks in, and we clasp hands. ¡°I am the Director of Worldbeaters,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, JC. Professor Kaisar spoke very highly of you.¡± My curt, formal reply is trodden over as he continues. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve been doing volunteer work with his ¡°Anterra¡± environmentalist cult for a while- oh, poor choice of words, my apologies. His ideological organization, rather.¡± I offer a polite chuckle, reassuring him that I¡¯ve begun to rethink some of their principles, to which he effortlessly cuts me off once more. ¡°Yes, an interesting group. I, myself, derive my principles from a scientific perspective. It is important to listen to the very earth we tread on, but that does not make it our master. Rather, we should be its master, as our intelligence vastly outweighs its majesty.¡± My words are once again consumed as if by a machine, and answered almost robotically before I can finish a sentence. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m very pleased you agree, JC. But, of course you would, from what our mutual acquaintance, the righteous priest and professor, has said. It seems you¡¯ve also done some intern work for our branch here during the last year. You are deeply interested in the art of neuroscience, are you? Oh, yes, but your area of study has been in social science- or sociology, correct? That is why you¡¯ve helped us in collecting some data, and observing some of the citizenry that have registered under our neurological tracking machine.¡± To my surprise, he allows me to reflect on my time observing for Worldbeaters, and how I¡¯d taken an interest in observing social behavior ever since I moved to Japan. He seems to notice as I clench my fists while mentioning the Professor, but doesn¡¯t raise his brow at it. ¡°Very well, a valuable piece of talent and interest. It¡¯s no wonder the Professor suddenly insisted I give you a chance to work in the lab itself here at Worldbeaters Inc. You surely must have done great work for him, for him to assume such a great debt to you all of a sudden!¡± My clenching fists shake without my consent, but I work hard to maintain my composure and deliver a generic response with a manufactured chuckle. ¡°Well, I must say, your professionalism lends itself through your speech and demeanor. I am rather impressed. It happens that I have a need for a social scientist much like yourself. You won¡¯t need to work in the lab here just yet, as your tasks can be communicated to you at your home. Your workload would increase, so your ability to volunteer with the Professor might decline. Is that okay?¡± I nod a fervent nod, assuring him that this is and will be my top priority. ¡°Very well, then,¡± he replies with a sly grin. ¡°I believe this is the beginning of a very important working relationship, JC.¡± The shutter clicks, bringing me to a lively pub. Gabriel clang his mug full of beer into mine, shouting congratulations along with other friends. Suddenly, my heart drops into my stomach as a slender, dark-haired girl walks in the bar, approaching me with a sullen smile. The shutter clicks again, shifting to the rooftop of the same pub. The girl is standing next me, crying while tugging at my sleeve. Her words of regret come out as static, but they strike my heart nonetheless. My heart and mind compromise with each other, and my arms embrace her. The shutter clicks harder and faster, finding us all together at another outdoor lecture. Gabriel grips my shoulder with a grin, while Genevieve holds my hand on the opposite side. My eyes are glued to the lecturer, a man I¡¯ve been tasked with observing. The shutter clicks even faster, landing me in the back of another crowded rally. Professor Kaisar preaches to his biggest crowd yet, while our group leads emphatic cheers from the front. My focus, however, is on several of the attendees, whom I¡¯ve been tasked with observing. When they suddenly leave the rally early, so do I. The shutter claps like thunder, shoving me in and out of the next several scenes before I can even fully process them. From dark alleys to restaurants and crowded streets, from my small apartment where I sit at a laptop for hours at a time, to lectures, rallies, and foresting outings which I always leave early. Each time, Genevieve seems disappointed to see me leave. In my spare time I plan dates with her, but they become more infrequent, and shorter each time. In one instance, she accompanies me to a concert featuring The Blinking Owl, a group I had grown to love as a substitute for Shiburei¡¯s music as they were partly inspired by her. She enjoys herself, grinning at me periodically, but eventually I catch her staring at the male guitarist with beaming eyes I¡¯ve seen directed at someone else before. The shutter clicks forcibly into the next scene. I¡¯m storming down the stairs of her apartment building, rage bubbling inside me. She chases after me, holding her phone, and attempts to corral me while in tears. I pull away and make a run for the parking lot and climb into my new sports car, slamming the door in front of her. As she pleads for me to open the door, holding the phone in her hand while she cries, my rage grows. I throw my fist into the dashboard as hard as I can, smashing a dent into it and splitting my knuckles open. The shutter clicks rapidly through another set of scenes, all depicting me alone in my bedroom. With each scene my hair and face grow more unkempt, and shadows under my eyes grow darker. Finally, the shutter rests on a scene, wherein I am staring at my phone. A message pops up, reading: ¡°What do you want to do, Jean?¡± My reply reads: ¡°I want to work things out by talking. But how do you feel?¡± My heart drops at the reply, reading: ¡°I don¡¯t know how I feel. I just wish you would be a better beacon for God.¡± I type out a short message before setting my phone down on the floor next to me. The screen begins to dim while displaying my words, ¡°goodbye, then.¡± As a response is being drafted, the screen goes dark, and I turn to lay on my side, shutting my eyes. The shutter clicks rapidly once again, showing different angles of my room as it grows more cluttered by delivered food remnants. Eventually, the scenery of the room changes to an even smaller room with white walls and nondescript d¨¦cor. Through every scene, the only constant is my laptop screen, which remains on, allowing me to view surveillance footage of my subjects before typing up and sending my reports to my coworker at the lab, Mathais. Suddenly, I¡¯m wrenched from my room with a thunderous click of the shutter, and brought to a slightly more spacious room where I sit across an older, bearded man. ¡°Let¡¯s continue where we left off,¡± he says softly. ¡°What are your thoughts and feelings today? Your mental state has been declining yet again, according to the reports.¡± ¡°Lately, I¡¯ve only been dreaming one dream,¡± I say without any expression. ¡°I¡¯m in a wasteland, as if the world has been destroyed.¡± As I speak, my consciousness takes me to the place I¡¯ve seen in my dreams frequently since coming to Japan, and every night since I stopped going to any Anterra events or lectures. The stale air in the deserted wasteland weighs me down, bringing me to my knees. Across from me, the man in the deep diving suit stands menacingly, preparing to throw the boisterous ball of flames my way. This time, something stops me from running away. Instead, I stare it down as it grows larger, threatening to swallow me up. For some reason, I no longer want to run from its heat. It begins to consume me, but stops as I throw my hands into it, and push back on it. The mass pushes hard, but I persist. Within its light, I begin to see flashes of the place I once went to when I was in a state of desperation. The place among the stars, where my ethereal body floated amidst an otherworldly vehicle of power. The singularity my parents always sought, where I alone viewed an imminent collision with the earth. It was the place in which I glimpsed upon my ghost-like hands that held nothing in their grasp despite the power laying at my feet. I had, all along, sought a piece of a dream. Maybe it was to replace the piece I had known so well yet lost. I don¡¯t like that, though. I¡¯d like to think the ¡®something¡¯ that I sought was what I had truly needed all along. Not that I ever believed in fate or any of that. Just that some things happen to be made for people, some people made for other people, and so on. That¡¯s bound to happen with everything thrown together to make the world what it is. The only way I can look at it now is that she was a distraction, an existence aimed at thwarting my dream. The more I became immersed in her world, the more I abandoned my dream. For that reason, I can¡¯t think that she was a bump in the road that helpfully steered me in the right direction. Rather, she was a nail in the road, the spare tire, the empty tank, the gas pump, and the ravine. I once told her she had stabbed my heart to bits, but she was the only one that could repair it. I think I engraved that mentality into my beaten heart that very day, and to this day, despite the bitter, pessimistically sobered worldview my pathetic mind built, that mentality somehow persists. It slips through the cracks of the carefully paved walls of logic I have built, and pulls me back to such a pitiful state of mind. I see the light for what it is. The truth I seek is within my grasp, filling me up with its light. So much that it feels as though I will implode if I hold it any longer. Therefore, I throw the ball, back in the direction of the man in the deep diving suit. The great fire within the ball illuminates the visor of the man¡¯s diving helmet, finally shining through to the inside. Finally, the phantom I¡¯ve been battling against all this time, is revealed. The face of a cowardly man, eyes wide in fear, lays before me. His visage is that of someone lost and broken. Someone whose lack of sleep shows through his shadowy eyes. Whose lack of interest in himself shows through his patchy beard. The man staring back at me is none other than the man I currently am. And, just like me, he fails to hold onto the ball. With a desperate look on his face, he pushes it back toward me. Like clockwork I send it back to him, and he back to me. Both of us, as weak as ever, bounce our dream back to the other, unable to hold on. Every time his face illuminates within the helmet, I think on how much I need to change. If that is what I look like, I must become stronger. Even if I¡¯ve crafted a certain sense of myself in the months spent hiding in my room, having broken communication with everyone outside the lab, I cannot grasp my dream while I¡¯m still so weak. Therefore, I force myself to change. I return to reality, harden myself to my feelings, and begin expanding my work. With another rapid set of shutter clicks, I find myself reconnecting with Gabriel, spending time at his home with his unwell mother, and talking through everything with him. He apologizes for remaining friends with the one who broke me, and failing to reach out to me. With kind, forgiving words I gain his favor, and continue to spend time with him, aiding with his mother. At my apartment, I¡¯m sent notes that detail Gabriel¡¯s psyche, the monitoring of his consciousness, and the newly quantifiable personality. Mathais¡¯ notes confirm something I had been suspecting: that during his time taking care of his mother, whom he loved wholly, he harbored feelings of bitterness and regret that he would not dare to show anyone. I begin to test him, prodding for triggers that may bring these feelings to the surface. However, he remains steadfast. Perhaps because he still attends lectures and services held by the Professor, albeit seldom. He remains the same, until a new development is made in the lab- at last, they discover the means to extract and manipulate the nerve impulses of the ¡®registered¡¯ subjects, specifically in regards to their personality. Since the ultimate goal remains the manipulation of consciousness, I¡¯m tasked with observing the effects of a manipulated personality. As if a switch is turned, Gabriel becomes a different person. He breaks down, exploding at me and his mother. It¡¯s almost as if he knows of my involvement, as he blames me for his break-down before going on a rampage in the city. Eventually, he¡¯s arrested, and his rapidly changing personality continues to be monitored daily. Mathais¡¯ leading report notes that Gabriel had, hidden under the surface, traits of borderline personality disorder and multiple personality disorder. In a profound development, it seems that through the particle collider used to manipulate his personality, we effectively shifted that very personality to a state of mania in which these disorders were given a path to surface. The lab is thrown into uproar by the new finding, and I¡¯m promoted to Chief Social Scientist and given access to several divisions of the lab. My pay skyrockets, and I meet with the Director weekly to brief him on my projects and many different subjects. The prospects of my future grow, and with it, my new goal comes to life; the possibility of reaching the singularity through Worldbeater¡¯s technology. With a click of the shutter, however, I return to the room with the bearded doctor, where I lay on a sofa. ¡°You have been doing much better, JC,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°However, your own measurables still show to be a bit troublesome, which is why you will continue to undergo treatment. Where would you say you are at in your mental journey? How about that dream you cannot quite solve?¡± Again, I¡¯m thrust into the wasteland as I recall my experiences to him. The ball continues to go back and forth, though I can feel the difference in resoluteness between myself and the weak, broken me in the deep diving suit. My throws grow stronger and more precise, in an attempt to annihilate his pitiful existence. However, nothing changes. He continues to thrive, to dazedly throw the ball back to me. I wrack my brain, attempting to understand him, in order to crush him. If I can, I might be able to grasp a hold of the boisterous ball with my own power. I study his eyes, and find in them the most pitiful truth: that his strength lay in his brokenness. His weakness allowed me to change, to become stronger. All of his pain was necessary to build my strength. Looking into his eyes, I truly understand. None are really supposed to see these things the way I do. Any that do are shamed by society, given a stigma they can never separate from. They¡¯re bums, losers, recluses, and so on. It¡¯s because they abandoned the natural path humans are supposed to take. That is, to seek happiness and approval, immersing yourself in what society has to offer and taking the bad with the good on the journey to your happiness. I started showing signs of deviance to this path early on, and grew sick of the usual flow of emotional ups and downs. ¡°Another good day.¡± ¡°Had a really bad day.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to make this a good day!¡± My mindset began warping rapidly, and I no longer felt those ups and downs. And I was content that way. There was no need to reaffirm myself, prop myself up, or scrutinize myself. I let my mind decide what brought it peace, uncertainty, and unpleasantness. All preconceived notions and extraneous outside perceptions aside. This was the beginning to my utopia. Still, the weak me tried to cast me into the never-ending line for the pursuit of happiness. And for some years, it worked. I fell into a new world and found real happiness. I would be cast in despair, uplifted and enriched, and eventually back on the road to turmoil. A constant cycle, but one that I was fine with, because I was opening my eyes to the concept of love more than I ever had. It wasn¡¯t until this love that blinded my more practical senses began to show its wavering that I began to remember- -my goals; I finally hardened my heart to everything but my dreams. There isn¡¯t anything that can get in the way at this point. If there was, it would mean all the time I thought I wasted, and all the time I spent rebuilding myself, would truly be for nothing. If I waver, I will lose to myself. I will fall back into my most pitiful state, one I won¡¯t be able to recover from again. That¡¯s why I must remain as strong as I am now. There is no going back to the other me. However, that is where his strength lies; he has the power to drag me down to his level, unsure of anything. Will I always be bouncing my dream back and forth between myself and the me that couldn¡¯t get over the past? The ball is in my court now. I cannot simply throw it back in the attempt to erase him; it¡¯s as good as running away. I have to hold on to it, for my sake. If he gets it, he¡¯ll dazedly send it back, looking only at what he¡¯s lost. And if I am him, I will be stuck in that process for the rest of my life, not knowing which me is which. Without a doubt, this dream is the only way I can save myself. However, if something truly beautiful were to appear and force me to reevaluate myself once more¡­ While I hold onto the ball with all my strength, the shutter clicks. Only the image of a room full of processors remains. The sound of Aku¡¯s voice as he addresses me fills my ears as the image is replaced, along with another click, by the image of two girls lying motionless in their beds, connected to machines. My mind, seeking a reprieve from the onslaught of memories, goes to the most peaceful place it knows: the pier in Reykjavik. The buildings I had previously looked into are closed off, leading me down the path in search of the nostalgic festival music. Somewhere far down the pier, I see Mary and Mirei walking together. I reach my hand out in their direction, before retracting it. Because, within my other hand, the great fiery ball expands, growing so big that it blots out all other sights and sounds and turns my most peaceful dream into a fiery battlefield. Through it all, I refuse to let go. I hold on tight, as blinding light consumes all. I wake from my dream, drenched in sweat and struggling to catch my breath. The theater screen goes black as I hunch over, holding my head in my hands while Mary and Mirei remain silent. ¡°Now you see who I really am,¡± I mutter through choppy breaths. ¡°Awfully normal and perfectly flawed, fixated on keeping my broken mind from collapsing; what I¡¯m really fighting for is nothing more than my own selfish desire for self-preservation. And for that, I¡¯ll sacrifice any of the things I once held close to my heart.¡± Final Intermission Mary turns away, while Mirei stares blankly at me, seemingly at a loss for words. Unable to look her in the eye, I turn to Mary. Right as I do so, however, I¡¯m met by a shin crashing into my head, knocking my consciousness from Mathais¡¯ body. I awake outside the theater, sprouting dozens of vines instinctively. I search with rapidity, but there are still no signs of life in the small clearing surrounding the theater. Therefore, I wait, ruminating on how calculated Mary is. We hadn¡¯t discussed her knocking me out to give me a head-start on the outside; I have to give her credit for her quick wit. Despite that, I¡¯m concerned with how long they¡¯re taking. Did Mirei do something to her? Is Aku awake? While I ponder, a group of people march into the small clearing- several of them wearing tactical vests and clutching small, cylindrical objects as they approach the theater. Just as several of them launch the objects toward the apex of the theater, my vines spring forth. I snatch the small, rusted gray canisters out of the air, and lay them neatly in the dirt. The group stares at my various vines, halting all movement. One of the men nods at me, while several others hurry toward the side of the theater. ¡°You must be JC,¡± the man says. ¡°We¡¯re on your side.¡± As he talks, the others prepare to throw their projectiles at the theater. Moving swiftly, I throw them onto the ground, causing one of the canisters to explode upon hitting the earth. My vines are blown apart, and like clockwork, I sprout several anew. Poised to attack, I observe the others in the group, who seem content to stand back and watch my movements. Despite several of their own lying in a bloody pile, burning in the flames left by the explosion, nobody is attacking me. ¡°Stand down,¡± a stern voice calls from the forest, in the direction the group had come from. I instantly recognize the voice. The thin, bespectacled man enters the clearing, surrounded by another dozen vest-donning people. ¡°We do not wish to engage with you, JC,¡± he says. ¡°You may want to erase us from this world, and that is fine. But first- please allow us to help you.¡± ¡°Help him?¡± Mary¡¯s fiery voice calls out from behind me as she passes fearlessly over the threshold of the theater onto the grass, Mirei in tow. ¡°You¡¯re that Professor,¡± Mary continues, staring daggers at the man I knew well. ¡°The scumbag that brainwashed an entire cult of people. Kaiser, right? What do you want with JC?¡± ¡°As I said,¡± the Professor calmly explains, ¡°we want to help him. Believe it or not, we are rooting for JC in this battle. You could say we are very close to his wavelength. His use of forestry, of nature itself, to save the earth from the coming threat coincides with what I¡¯ve preached for years. It¡¯s clear that JC is the one that will save this world, as well as the real world in which our memories came from.¡± ¡°Then why are you trying to burn down the theatre?¡± Mirei challenges, watching as several other cultists approach the building with canisters. ¡°The more worldly architecture there is, the less room we have to spread forestry,¡± Kaiser responds plainly, not blinking an eye at the girls. ¡°That¡¯s what you did all along, isn¡¯t it?¡± Mary presses angrily.¡± The wildfires that wiped out entire towns¡­ you did that yourself, didn¡¯t you?¡± The Professor leaves his stern gaze on Mary, refusing to answer her. ¡°You knew, didn¡¯t you, JC?¡± Mary says, turning to my vines. ¡°We didn¡¯t see it in your memories, but you figured it out, right? You and Gabriel¡­ that¡¯s why you left the group, and you were scolded for abandoning God- what a complete farce of a group!¡± ¡°JC, you¡¯ll have to excuse us,¡± Kaiser mutters. ¡°We cannot stand idly by while these girls, your enemies, smear our name.¡± My vines snap into action as he finishes, while the group pulls guns, knives, and explosives, and turn in unison on the girls. Just before the attack begins, countless rounds of gunfire rattle off, spraying bullets over the cultists. The gunfire, coming from high up in the trees surrounding the theater, avoids the girls, but does not discriminate between the cultists and my vines. As I¡¯m torn apart, I send new vines to collect the girls. I swiftly pull them away from the crossfire and into the forest, just as the theater is firebombed from several sides. Struggling to keep my consciousness despite my torn vines, I continue towing the girls, until only the rising smoke can be seen in the distance. We come to a stop at a fallen tree, and the girls take a seat on its trunk, several meters apart from one another. They spend a minute or so catching their breath, before turning toward each other. ¡°Seems like you instructed your goons to hold back this time?¡± Mary jabs, raising her eyebrow at Mirei, who looks down with a blank face. ¡°I just asked them to wait quietly to see what might happen.¡± Mirei¡¯s voice is clearly affected as she answers, unable to look at Mary. ¡°Does that have anything to do with what happened to the Irish bandits you sent to kill me?¡± Mary continues, her voice quivering more with every word. ¡°No¡­¡± Mirei answers in a mumble. ¡°And it isn¡¯t as if I gave them the order myself. They were just on the same wavelength as me, so they understood what I wanted.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got some nerve, saying that to my face,¡± Mary growls, standing up. ¡°Anyway¡­ listen, JC- we talked a bit and decided we won¡¯t try to kill each other anymore.¡± Unable to respond, I simply perk my vines up at her words, while she takes a few steps away from the fallen tree, her back turned. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly a truce, but a concession that we won¡¯t be able to reach your wavelength unless we try to get on the same page ourselves. It¡¯s probably only because of your ¡®tuning¡¯ that we¡¯re able to even see and talk to each other. You serve as a bridge, isn¡¯t that right?¡± At her words, I shift my gaze to Mirei, who smiles weakly. ¡°I told her what we talked about at your apartment, back in my world,¡± she says softly, without any trace of her prior disdain.¡± ¡°Anyway,¡± Mary continues, rolling her eyes, ¡°Mirei still feels a strong desire to prove that her strength from the last world is intact, and I feel a strong desire to kick both of your asses for turning this whole world into a battlefield for our wishes and emotions to wage war.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Taking a breath, Mary turns back toward Mirei¡¯s sullen figure. ¡°Especially considering my father was caught in the crossfire, and I had to spend my last moments with him, a false version of him at that, watching him die. I¡¯ll never get that reunion back. I¡¯m not going back to the real world, so all I¡¯m left with are my memories of him, and that final false meeting.¡± ¡°At least you had that,¡± Mirie mutters, biting her teeth as she averts her eyes. ¡°What?¡± Mary spits, taking a step closer to her. ¡°My father doesn¡¯t exist in this world,¡± Mirei replies, her voice shaking. ¡°Probably because I killed him in my world. It was because of my trust in JC and his plan that I did that, and now I don¡¯t have my father in this most important world. I¡¯m allowed to be bitter about that too, aren¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Did you not do that by your own choice?¡± Mary shouts, waving her arm angrily. ¡°Weren¡¯t you acting on your emotion and finally rebelling against the man who took everything away from me?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right¡­¡± she whimpers, tears dropping from her eyes. ¡°Rather, I¡¯m the one who took everything from you. And I¡¯m sorry. That¡¯s why I want to win for you. So that you can see your father again, in real life. I don¡¯t want to follow JC¡¯s lead, anymore. I want to use my own power to save you.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no hope for me,¡± Mary replies with a sullen look, her angry demeanor vanishing. ¡°You still have my heart. All of it. I don¡¯t have anything. If you couldn¡¯t return after winning in such a convincing manner, how do you expect me to be strong enough? It¡¯s only because this is a dream world that I¡¯m even alive and moving, right now.¡± ¡°How do you know all of that is true?¡± Mirei asks, finally turning to face Mary while sniffing and wiping the tears off her cheeks. ¡°Perhaps I could shed some light on that?¡± A voice rings from the trees just beyond my line of sight. My consciousness instantly cuts out, sending me back to my body in the prison of vines. Through blurred vision, I discover a slender girl with dark hair and tan skin approaching with a weak smile on her face. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, JC,¡± she says, brushing her long hair out of her eyes. Her words pierce me like a dull knife as discomfort spreads through my chest and stomach. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be rude,¡± I mutter, trying to blink my blurred vision back to normal and bring life back to my numbed arms and legs. ¡°But, what business could you possibly have with me¡­ Genevieve?¡± ¡°I wanted to see you,¡± she says plainly. ¡°To talk to you. You should know that I don¡¯t have any ill-intent, right? Otherwise, I wouldn¡¯t be able to reach your wavelength and come to you.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain why you want to talk with me,¡± I respond in defiance, looking at her suspiciously. ¡°Because I want to help you, Jean.¡± At the uttering of my name, my ears incur a sharp pain, and nausea fills my head. ¡°Why¡­¡± ¡°Because,¡± she says softly, stepping but a few strides away from me. ¡°I know you better than anyone in this world. I know what kind of man you are due to our time together, and now I¡¯ve even seen your memories, thanks to Worldbeaters.¡± I close my mouth, not trying to hide my scowl as she finally stops in front of me. ¡°There¡¯s so much you didn¡¯t tell me about your past,¡± she whispers. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe. You went through so much. And still are, I¡¯m sure. Because I hurt you even more. We all did, and I¡¯m sorry. There¡¯s nothing I can do to take it back. But I can devote myself to helping you win this. All of us feel the same, Jean; we all want to help you.¡± ¡°Our interests just seem to align,¡± I interject. ¡°That¡¯s all it is. You¡¯re all cheering me on so that the gospel you¡¯ve preached might come true in this world.¡± ¡°That¡¯s also true,¡± she admits, smiling. ¡°I can¡¯t deny that it¡¯s convenient for us. This is what we¡¯ve been prophesying all along; the time for the earth that God created to protect him from¡­¡± she stops, glancing back at the ever-growing singularity in the sky. ¡°¡­that.¡± ¡°Right, so you¡¯ll use it as an excuse to burn more down and spread forestry, in the name of protecting the earth and God within it.¡± ¡°Your world turned into a forest on its own, didn¡¯t it?¡± she prods, raising her brow. ¡°I think that says a lot about what you subconsciously believe.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know everything just because you¡¯ve seen my memories,¡± I mutter, looking away from her. ¡°I do know you, Jean,¡± she pleads, squatting down to my level. ¡°That¡¯s why, even if the rest of them are doing this for their own purposes, I truly am acting on your behalf. We shared a very real bond, and now that I¡¯ve seen things from your perspective, I understand how things could have gone differently. And I want things to go differently, now.¡± ¡°What exactly are you saying?¡± I ask, looking her in the eye with no emotion. ¡°Win the battle,¡± she declares, standing up tall. ¡°Defeat the girls, defeat Aku, and gain his power. Let the rapture come upon this world so that God may build it anew, and return with Aku¡¯s power. Use that power to take my consciousness back to the real world with you. It should be possible for two consciousnesses to return, right?¡± ¡°Why would I¡­¡± I mutter, a stark bitterness compelling my head to hang low. ¡°Because I can return to my body, with all these memories, and this new perspective,¡± she replies in a voice so gentle it makes me want to vomit. ¡°To be the ultimate support for you. The real me will remain ignorant and stick to what she does know. But I will never betray you again.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± I mutter, all composure gone as I fight back tears born by anger. ¡°That¡¯s so unfair. Even if it is possible to transfer a loose consciousness into another body, why would I do that? Why would I throw away my principles now? I¡¯ll let the real you live with her choices, and I¡¯ll live with mine.¡± ¡°But¡­ won¡¯t you continue to hold disdain for me, deep in your heart?¡± she pleads, dropping to her knees as tears well in her eyes. ¡°Won¡¯t you continue using me as motivation to be stronger, and safeguard your heart? I don¡¯t want that, JC. I don¡¯t want you to protect yourself from pain, and never experience happiness as a result!¡± I refuse to make eye contact as she clutches the dirt at my knees, her tears falling on her knuckles like raindrops. ¡°Don¡¯t throw away your future for your self-righteous duty to your work and your parents¡¯ legacy!¡± she continues. ¡°I understand¡­ I know that¡¯s what you were doing all along. You were acting out of a sense of duty. To confirm your purpose in living¡­ I get it! I understand you, and the root of your dreams! So, please, accept me!¡± ¡°You¡¯re¡­ kind.¡± I lift my teary eyes to her level, delivering a soft smile. ¡°You¡¯re truly kind,¡± I continue, my smile turning cold. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t hate you. I won¡¯t need to say any of this to the real you, but our hearts can never be on the same wavelength again. So, find your own happiness. I can¡¯t promise I¡¯ll find mine, but I¡¯ll do my best to fulfill my purpose. Right now, that is my happiness.¡± ¡°I¡­ understand.¡± Her voice fades as a soft wind comes over us, bringing with it a storm of dead cherry blossoms that lift her and, like a soft wave washing over a shoreline, carry her off quietly into the woods. I immediately shake my head, hardening my heart and refocusing. My body and mind are as weary as ever, but I can¡¯t afford to rest now. I have to dive back in. My consciousness resurfaces in the body of Mathais, but it is Aku in control of it. ¡°It is possible for both of you to return, in consciousness, to the real world,¡± he says. The girls stare at him in shock, motionless. ¡°Conditions would have to be met, such as what we just discussed regarding your hearts,¡± he continues, fixing his gaze on Mirei whose eyes are cast downward. ¡°It would, of course, mean that JC and I would not make it back. We would either fade to nothingness with this dreamscape, or disappear into the stars.¡± ¡°Why are you telling us this if it could mean your own demise?¡± Mary asks, struggling to maintain her usual attitude. ¡°Certainly, I do not wish to disappear,¡± he says with a grin. ¡°But I do wish for the most deserving to return to the real world with my power. This place was constructed partially for that purpose, after all. That is what this contest is.¡± ¡°But then¡­¡± Mirei stammers, her eyes darting around the ground as if she knows I¡¯m watching from the same eyes Aku is. ¡°What does JC want to happen? You said he wants to erase you. So, he plans to return by himself, with your power?¡± ¡°That is what it seems,¡± Aku says, folding his hands. ¡°You will understand better after viewing the last showing. He probably isn¡¯t too happy about me telling you any of this, as it is.¡± The girls¡¯ faces turn still as they look at each other. Eventually, Mary gives a hesitant nod, which Mirei slowly returns. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry and keep going, then,¡± Mary declares, striding ahead while Mirei clenches her fists and follows. ¡°To the last theater.¡± Last Showing - Paradox Cycle The girls pass through thick forestry, followed by Aku, and come to another small clearing, housing the smallest theatre yet. This time, however, they are met by a large group entering the clearing from either side of the woods. ¡°The psycho cultists made it here already,¡± Mary remarks, clicking her tongue in disgust at the armed people. ¡°Did they¡­ take out the Shibutani men?¡± Mirei says, voice quivering as she takes a step back toward the trailing Aku. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, does it?¡± Mary says, cracking her knuckles as she steps forth, glaring at the unmoving group. ¡°Get out of our way, cultists. We¡¯re here to view the last showing with JC. He won¡¯t go in without us, and vice versa. You should be able to respect that. You wouldn¡¯t dare put him in danger at this critical stage, would you?¡± The group stays silent as Mary treads confidently into their midst, walking by them without issue. She looks back as she nears the theater¡¯s entrance, nodding her head for Aku and Mirei to follow. ¡°You¡¯re not going to get all afraid on me, now, are you?¡± Mirei takes a deep breath. Placing her clenched fists over her heart, she follows after Mary, glancing at the cultists along the way. Aku follows, casually looking over the group while they direct their disdainful gazes at him. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Mary says, climbing the few stairs and crossing over the stone archway into the nondescript theater. ¡°Wait,¡± Mirei mutters, looking at her hands, and then at Aku. ¡°If Mary was able to use her storm, then I should be able to use my ice, right?¡± ¡°In theory, it should be possible,¡± Aku states plainly, following Mary up the stairs and into the shadowy threshold of the building. ¡°Then I¡¯ll keep this building safe while we¡¯re inside,¡± she replies, holding her hands out to her sides with a determined look. As her hands slowly crane skyward, a thick wall of ice appears from the grass scaling the theater¡¯s base, and grows up to its rooftop, creating a barrier the likes of thick plexiglass. Mirei hurries up the stairs and into the theater as the wall of ice fills the archway, creating a solid wall. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go,¡± she mutters through choppy breaths as she wipes the sweat from her brow with the same determined expression. Without a word, Mary proceeds through the dark, empty lobby down a narrow hallway. Its walls are lined with large window frames and screens containing abstract, colorful depictions of space. For several minutes we traverse what should have been a short hallway, considering the size of the theater. Finally, a set of double doors lead us into a much larger theater room than before. The seats line the outside of the circular room, while the theater screen rests at the ceiling, a sea of stars projected onto it. As the girls silently take their seats, leaving a seat in the middle for Aku, the stars begin to illuminate and the room with a stark white light. ¡°Finally, I¡¯ve made it to my goal,¡± Aku says in a whisper. ¡°All that¡¯s left is to see how much you¡¯ve changed this time¡­¡± The girls, too distracted by the consuming light to hear his whisper, shield their eyes. Aku takes a seat, and by the time the bright white light dissipates, my own consciousness takes over Mathais¡¯ body. ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ll show you,¡± I mutter, spreading my host¡¯s lips into a smirk, as the world blends into the stars on the screen. As if we ourselves were projected onto the screen, the stars surround us. I can no longer see the girls next to me, only the bright, boisterous stars. Passing through them like a bird, I travel in the direction of a great, fiery star in the distance. As I approach the star, I watch as many other small stars gravitate toward it, and become consumed by it. With each consumption, the gigantic fiery star grows larger and more boisterous. I draw closer to the star, pulled in like the other stars. As I prepare to be consumed, I notice countless humanoid figures gliding along the stars. Their makeup is similar to the star itself, like static energy conformed into the shape of a giant human. Hundreds of these monolithic figures seem to be watching me glide into the core of the star where my consciousness is ripped apart. Whatever I was is decimated and made anew. Like a plant I grow on the star, amongst the others. I wander around the star for what feels like eternity, before another figure waves its arm at me. My consciousness wavers, as if a switch was flipped. Suddenly, I stare through the eyes of a young boy, filled with the urge to exert some of the power I¡¯ve held dormant for so long. Bodies fall bloody around me. Barely aware of myself, I escape, and run like a beast through the wilderness. When hungry, I hunt small animals like it¡¯s natural to me. When weary, I allow the one trying to regain his body to take over, if only for a moment. When he takes over, I¡¯m stricken by everything he feels. The pain of losing, and the emptiness of longing. I feel his longing for a split second, before my consciousness clicks like a camera shutter. Instead of returning to the stars, I come to a new place. An incomplete place. Orange light fills the sky, painting an unending sea in twilight. Crushing waves surround me, threatening to wash away the wood under my feet. I¡¯m standing on a long, thin pier in the middle of an ocean. It leads nowhere, and has no end. Feeling a sense of loneliness as the waves thrash, nearly pulling me into the endless ocean, I recall the memories of the one whose body I¡¯ve inhabited. The pier that lined the coast of his hometown, complete with many festive stalls and red and blue coastal houses built snugly into the boardwalk¡¯s trunk. As the memories flood me, they materialize in the makeshift world. The chaos continues as the city beyond the newly grown coast springs into livelihood, filling the world with sights, sounds, and smells. Seeking a reprieve from the boisterously growing world, I return to the body of the boy traversing the long countryside. Finally, I reach a place that resembles the town from his memories. Exhausted by the long journey, I allow him to take over, and return to the great star. For years, I¡¯m gnawed at by the sense of longing I felt when the boy¡¯s memories flowed into the fake world. I raise my effervescent hands to my face, remarking how empty they¡¯ve remained all this time. Longing for the feeling of something to grasp, my consciousness flickers out. I return, at last, to the boy¡¯s body, laying on a cold hardwood floor while several larger boys unload a flurry of punches and kicks onto me. Despite the pain, my attention is captured by the sound flowing into my ears, coming from a device the boy had fit around his head. A beautiful sound, comprising of varying chords, fills my head and brings me serenity. Unwilling to raise a hand to defend mine and his body, I let the beating play out, content to hear the song to its end. When it finally does end, I¡¯m pulled back to the fake world, where I walk down the pier. More of the boy¡¯s memories flood my head, including the image of several ghostly figures hovering throughout the coastal town. One in particular, the lanky figure of the boy who appeared hiding behind a building as well as entering the boy¡¯s house on that fateful day, strikes me as similar. Vanishing into thin air, the figure is replaced by the boy¡¯s parents, standing alone on the beach. They look out to sea, as if fixated on something. I turn to look, and find nothing but the vast sea. Drawing further back for more memories, I allow the world to build more and more. The festive feeling around me grows, as does a sense of comfort. I scale the pier, losing track of the steps I¡¯ve taken as the city forms from nothingness along the horizon. At last, a lovely melody reaches my ear. In the distance, perhaps from the sea, the sound of a piano rings across the world. Just like it had when I last inhabited his body, the song puts me in a trance- evoking a hopeful melancholy. While I listen, feeling a tear roll down my cheek, my consciousness shifts back to the boy. Much like the first time, I take over in a blind rage. I use his fists like vicious claws of a cornered animal. In mere seconds, the same children who had beaten me lay lifeless and bloody on the wet pavement. As the rage subsides, and I feel my consciousness give way to the boy, I realize the same song is playing. Focused in the headphones around my ears, it continues, breathing life into me. For the first time, I am overcome with the urge to do what I never thought possible- to communicate with the boy. As the torch passes back to him, I offer just one thought, focusing on it with all my being. ¡°Protect this melody.¡± The shutter clicks, forcing me out. I return to the great star, where I am greeted by the same silvery figure that once waved at me. ¡°You have been here for some time,¡± it says in inhuman dialect. ¡°Yet, you still have not ventured to your world. It must be time for you to go, if you want your world to have a chance. Or are you putting your hopes into the backup created by your counterpart¡¯s subconscious tuning?¡± Just as it predicted, my consciousness begins to wane as I discover a planet in the distance. I retain only a glimpse of my hands as I gaze at the blue and green star in the direction we head in. I¡¯m overcome with a desire to go to the place we will eventually consume. Therefore, I go, leaving the countless monolithic figures behind. I land, after what seems like decades, on the dull, green earth. I see through the eyes of a bird, flying through the outskirts of a town. The bird begins to burst at its seams almost as quickly as I inhabit it, so I move to a deer. The deer implodes not long after, prompting me to jump to the next animal. Continually jumping, I seek something that can contain my powerful being. None of the wildlife suffice, so I look into the city itself. There, I find a machine capable of storing my consciousness. I can¡¯t see anything, but I derive that I am in a small room populated by two men. ¡°Mathais, what is this?¡± ¡°It is¡­ something completely new. It may be what Laplace predicted¡­¡± ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Something alien¡­ something that should comprehend us.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± ¡°Can you hear us? Do you understand us?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I answer with certainty through the machine¡¯s speaker. ¡°I understand. Everything.¡± ¡°Everything? What is everything?¡± ¡°I will show you. I only ask that you find my counterpart- the one whose desires brought me here.¡± The shutter clicks, and I finally return to the fake world where I walk aimlessly across the pier, never growing weary. Noticing the fixed movement of the sun in the sky, I wish for it to move, and create the concept of time here as it in the boy¡¯s world. Miraculously, it begins to move, as if by my command. I allow the sun to fall, and the moon to rise, bringing darkness to the sky, along with countless stars. The stars hang powerfully above, like they¡¯re watching and judging my work. At last, my body grows tired, as if walking all this time has caught up to me. I fall face first into the wood, feeling the cool breeze on my cheek. With the breeze comes the scent of festival foods, drawing me to feel a rumbling pain in my stomach. I gaze inland in search of food, and discover the city lights casting a calm haze amidst the night sky. Hungry to learn more about the world, I project myself into the sky, away from the replica body of the boy whose face I haven¡¯t seen in years. I venture into the city, where people wander about aimlessly. The people and scenery still seem to be operating from the boy¡¯s memory, so I tune them to fit a more modern setting. I give them purpose, direction, a destination, and their own free will. The city grows busier and louder, as the concept of time is now acknowledged by the people. Hungry for more, I leave the city, taking the same hilly path I took in the boy¡¯s body long ago. The scenery is the same, and matches my memory of the boy¡¯s experiences, all the way through to the village called Vik. I see the foster mother who raised him, the policeman who found him, and the boys who tormented him. However, the world stops there. I cannot go beyond the coast, where strong winds and waves push me back to the beach with every attempt to press forward. I return to the real world, within my machine. ¡°I will require something,¡± I say plainly. ¡°What is it?¡± the man called the Director asks over the creaking sound of an opening door. ¡°Experience. Memories. Harvested from those who have traveled beyond Iceland. Start with Ireland, and go beyond.¡± ¡°Certainly,¡± he says in a low, satisfied voice. With a click of the shutter, I return to the fake world. Like an artist conveying his images onto a canvas, I contort the world based on the countless memories I¡¯ve received. From Paris, France, to Japan, I will into existence a replica of the world in my stolen memories. This world acts just as the original one, its people moving day to day, almost in sync with one another. After observing it for months, I become satisfied, and return to the original world. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back,¡± the Director says smoothly. ¡°Great timing, we were just about to begin the experiment we¡¯ve been planning. Mathais is prepping the two subjects, who have been in and out of emergency surgery and are expected to reach a comatose state by the end of the day.¡± ¡°I would like to see them,¡± I reply. ¡°Oh?¡± Would you like to take over Mathais¡¯ body for a moment? That is fine with me, just do not kill him, please. His consciousness is registered in the PC Booster, so you should be able to find him with ease.¡± As he says, I quickly locate the bespectacled man. My consciousness lands within his mind, and I open his eyes to see two frail girls hooked up to a machine labeled ¡°Mini Collider¡±. To my surprise, they are both awake and alert. It seems Mathais had just administered some sort of medicine into their arms through a needle, and resupplied their IV drips. The girl with mid-length black hair, clearly paler and more tattered than the other, is shaking in her bed like a stray dog in the rain. Her eyes look more distant than anything I¡¯ve seen in all of the memories I¡¯ve stolen. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Mary,¡± the pink-haired girl declares in a hoarse voice. Tears brimming in her eyelids, she forces a weak smile and reaches her hand out to the broken girl. ¡°If things get scary, we just have to rely on each other. As long as we do that, our hearts will remain whole. I know you never asked for any of this, but the bond we were forced to share¡­ can never be severed, now¡­ right?¡± ¡°O-okay¡­¡± the dark-haired girl sheepishly mutters, extending her thin, trembling arm toward hers. ¡°We just have to stay by each other¡¯s side¡­¡± As their hands clasp together weakly, I suddenly feel unwelcome. As though I¡¯ve barged in on something, a pure scene that I have no right to see. It¡¯s not as if their circumstances are my fault. However, for the first time, I feel a burden, like a weight in my chest. A weight that I¡¯ve learned about from my memories- that of guilt. ¡°You¡¯re both very strong,¡± I mutter, turning around. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll continue to show such strength tomorrow.¡± Not waiting to find out whether they heard me or not, I leave Mathais¡¯ body, and return to the dark machine. ¡°Well, what did you think?¡± The Director¡¯s cold voice rings from within the small room. ¡°They are fantastic candidates,¡± I answer. ¡°Whether or not one of them can store my consciousness within their body, however, will depend on their growth inside my world.¡± ¡°Still insisting your other half cannot be the one to obtain your power?¡± He says with a short chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve told you, it is not possible,¡± I reply firmly. ¡°I could only reach out to him before because of where I was reaching from. But now that I am physically here in this world, the two of us cannot exist juxtaposed to the other. He will eventually realize this, and wish to erase me.¡± ¡°And, will you try to erase him?¡± the Director asks provocatively. ¡°That depends,¡± I reply shortly. ¡°That is not how I prefer things to go¡­¡± I trail off. ¡°Speaking of, have you had any luck locating him?¡± ¡°He isn¡¯t quite in our field of view yet,¡± he responds in an even colder tone. ¡°But he will be soon. Laplace¡¯s projections tell us he¡¯ll be here soon, but it may be some time before he comes to us directly.¡± ¡°How long?¡± I ask pointedly. ¡°Three years is what we are hoping,¡± he replies in a low voice. ¡°Whenever he arrives, he must come to us on his own,¡± I declare, before going into a long slumber. I travel through void, on the way to the fake world. As I prepare to assimilate the newest memories I¡¯ve gained into it, a strange thought comes over me. ¡°Have I somehow¡­ done this before?¡± The shutter clicks as I continue building the world with stolen memories. Perhaps it is because I¡¯ve already experienced the memories as they were transferred to me, but even the act of implementing them to shape this world like the original feels like d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Even as the bustling streets of Tokyo play out before my eyes for the first time, it feels like a familiar place. As I explore its every crowded street corner, I begin to feel a sense of nostalgia. The smiling faces and loud chatter remind of the festival setting in Iceland that I watched for so long. I can¡¯t help but wonder why I¡¯m feeling this way. Is it because he¡¯s in Japan in the real world? At last, we will be in the same place. It¡¯s according to my plan, but I feel a sense of dread as well, a looming feeling that he is closing in on me instead. I take the road leading to the lab. To my utter shock, the grass and trees lining the road begin to change color in sync with my strides. Blue, pink, and a sharp green reveal themselves like a brilliant abstract painting. What could have caused this? And why do I feel a sinking feeling in my chest at the sight of the magnificent colors? A gust of wind shakes me from behind, shuddering the multi-colored cherry-blossom trees and prompting me to turn back. Along the adjacent road, people pass by. A young couple sheepishly holding hands. A group of schoolkids pushing each other playfully. A mother holding her gleeful child¡¯s hand as they walk. A middle-aged man smoking a cigarette whilst walking his dog. And an elderly couple firmly clasping each other¡¯s hand as they gingerly pace down the sidewalk, completely unaware of the abnormal coloring of the scenery just down the road from them. Upon seeing these people pass, carrying on with their lives happily despite their artificial creation, I raise my hands to my eyes. Rather, I raise the hands of the boy. Within them, I feel a sense of longing. A sense that these hands could never hold anything within them, as long I am the one in control. I turn dazedly back to the road leading to the lab. As I look to the grass, something fills my eyes, blurring them. My feet stagger as I panic over the foreign substance stealing my vision. Finally, a gust of wind flicks the substance away, and my vision becomes clear as I gaze upon the green grass and trees. The shutter clicks forcibly through a series of conversations. ¡°The girls¡¯ memories have been added to your database,¡± Mathais assures in an enthusiastic voice. ¡°You should be able to tune your world in whatever direction will fit naturally for their futures, if they were to exist.¡± His voice fades as the shutter clicks into another scene void of any light or shape. ¡°We¡¯ve located your other half,¡± the Director declares confidently. We will utilize memories of those around him, for now, to give you a better look into his current life. At least, for the time being, while we wait for him to come to us.¡± His voice fades, before reaching me again. ¡°It seems to have finally worked,¡± the Director drones with some relief. ¡°The girls¡¯ signals were located amidst your database within the Mini Collider, adjacent to their memories registered in the PC Booster. This means you should find them, matured version of them, in your world.¡± Interrupted by a loud ringing, I gaze at my wristwatch. The time reads on the display while the watch alarms in frantic cadence. As if waking up from a long dream, I shake the cobwebs and find myself standing in the street once more. As if prompted by some supernatural force, I crane my head to the side, to find a beautiful and slender dark-haired girl approaching me from the same sidewalk I had watched people pass carelessly by. ¡°You must be JC,¡± she says in a disinterested voice. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll take care of me¡­ that is, while you keep an eye on me for the Shibutani Group.¡± ¡°I will do my best,¡± I answer sincerely. ¡°Technically speaking, I am not doing what you think I am on behalf of the Shibutani. But I suppose the truth isn¡¯t far from that, either.¡± ¡°Very reassuring,¡± she says, clicking her tongue at me. ¡°More importantly, let¡¯s get to your check-up before we look at visiting any agencies, okay?¡± ¡°Sure, sure,¡± she scoffs, walking ahead of me. Another shutter click brings me to the small bedroom within JC¡¯s apartment. I¡¯m using his laptop to watch Mirei Shibutani play a heart-rending piece on the piano. The beauty in the melody itself, along with the shock of seeing her play for the first time and hearing her music for the first time since I last inhabited JC¡¯s real body, compels a tear to roll down my cheeks. Unphased by my pitiful visage in the reflection of the laptop, I write a comment on the video, praising her performance. With another shutter click, I find myself in the body of Mathais once more. Placed in front of me is a monitor, showing surveillance footage of the room containing the processor in which my consciousness has been stored, along with the Director, who sits in a small office chair comfortably. It¡¯s my first time seeing both the weary-looking blond man, as well as the multi-paneled machine that displays a blank-faced symbol on a small screen sitting just above an oddly placed speaker. A headset is fit snugly around my head, along with a mic. ¡°Will this really work?¡± I ask through the headset in Mathais¡¯ voice. Silence ensues, until several seconds later. My words are repeated on the other side, as the Director gazes up at the camera with a smirk. The words that play through the speaker on the processing machine do not match the voice of Mathais which I¡¯d borrowed. They match the voice I heard when I talked from within the machine. ¡°I believe your question has been answered,¡± the Director says, broadening his smirk. ¡°The wonders of engineering, and AI¡­ remarkable, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± ¡°This¡­ will allow me to communicate with him?¡± I inquire, stammering in disbelief. ¡°Yes,¡± he answers pointedly. ¡°As a recording, of course. Or you might call it a transmission. Either way, there is a delay in both of our feeds. This could prove as an annoyance to you, so let¡¯s keep it brief for our first talk.¡± Without waiting for an answer, the man whose cold, black eyes I¡¯m seeing for the first time, leaves the room. Several minutes later, he returns, accompanied by a formally-dressed young man. ¡°At last,¡± I mutter to myself. He¡¯s come. The boy I¡¯ve watched over for years, whose mock body I¡¯ve been using in the fake world all this time. ¡°Well, hello, JC. It¡¯s good to finally meet you in your world.¡± The boy is overcome with both shock and fear as he stares in silence. ¡°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 boy merely nods slowly and silently. The blond-haired man steps in between the boy 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 particle accelerating machine we spoke about before. Please, follow me to the next room.¡± The shutter clicks again, bringing me once again to view JC and the Director via Mathais and through the video feed. ¡°Now that you have a better idea of what¡¯s going on, we would like to explain the details,¡± the Director says politely. ¡°For that, I will let Aku take the lead.¡± ¡°Welcome back, JC,¡± I call through the monitor. Met with a hesitant reply, I continue. ¡°I will start by answering any questions you already have brewing.¡± ¡°Who¡­ are you?¡± he asks with an odd mixture of fear and anticipation.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°I¡­¡± the word slowly comes forth, as I discover a great feeling of anticipation within my own heart. ¡°I¡­ am you.¡± ¡°What?¡± he replies, stupefied. ¡°How is that possible?¡± ¡°I feel as though you understand deep in your soul,¡± I declare. ¡°However, I will explain. I am the celestial side of you. Your other half. We are two sides of the same coin, you could say. I have witnessed your life from your eyes, and walked in your shoes. You, as well, have entered my celestial body, and viewed the stars from the hub that I call home. Our connection runs deeper than the very stars in the sky.¡± ¡°Please¡­ explain,¡± he says, no longer hesitating to show his anticipation. ¡°How is it that I¡¯ve been able to project into you, and you to me? What is that place in the stars? It really is¡­ the place my parents sought to reach, isn¡¯t it? Please, tell me everything.¡± ¡°Of course, I will,¡± I respond in a calm voice. ¡°First, allow me to start from the very beginning.¡± ¡°The beginning?¡± ¡°Yes- the story of the beginning of everything,¡± I reply calmly. ¡°It started with a small star that traveled across space, like any normal star. It spent its life slowly expending its energy. At its core, its energy swirled, and when the star began to burn up, when it began its process of dying, something happened with that energy. ¡°The core of the star was overcome by its own energy as it began to burn out more rapidly. The energy began expending itself in bursts. The closer the star grew to its death, the more bursts the energy would perform. As its life drew very close to its end, the star made one last long, powerful burst. ¡°It shot far across the universe at incomprehensible speed, and collided with many other stars. The force at which it hit those stars was so great, the stars it collided with died upon contact. As they died, their flame was absorbed by the energetic star, along with every bit of energy the star had left. ¡°With this, the star continued its last burst, colliding with star after star, gaining new momentum with each second that passed. It never slowed down, only continuing to gain more energy. Eventually, the star became so great that it was trillions of times bigger than any other star. It simply continued to crush every star in its path, taking the stars and their energy within itself. ¡°However, the star was still technically using its own last burst of energy. For stars, this last burst of energy is an inevitable, definite ending. It had prolonged its last burst longer than can be counted by time, but it could never return from its last burst. It could never start over, rebirth itself, or reset itself to before the end of its life. ¡°Therefore, the star needed to keep consuming all other stars around, to continue its path, to maintain itself. It could never stop taking the energy of other stars. At some point, the ever-growing energy swirling around the core of the star adapted its movement to this cycle. ¡°And so, the concept of consciousness was created. Through the destruction of everything, the first stage of life was created. The consciousness within the star eventually formed its own body to best steer its mass of energy. Boasting a massive core protected by six arms, strong and defined, it named itself Shiva.¡± ¡°Shiva¡­ The God of Creation and Destruction,¡± JC mutters, his eyes intensely focused on the monitor. ¡°Indeed, as Shiva¡¯s power grew to new heights, destroying everything in its path, it found itself in a dilemma,¡± I continue. ¡°The stars in space, while seemingly endless, represented a limited amount of energy. If it continued destroying them all, there would eventually be nothing left to consume. Therefore, instead of hoarding all of the energy from the stars which would eventually run out and spell the indefinite end Shiva had been prolonging, it repurposed a portion of that energy. ¡°As it destroyed, it began to create anew. Stars, which could be harvested for the sake of eventual consumption, were born from the dispersed energy of consumed stars. While the soul of the stars presided in Shiva¡¯s hub, its core, their energy was relocated in a brand-new star. ¡°With this, Shiva first created the concept of reproducing life. While it fed on the countless stars, it created more powerful ones, increasing its eventual gains. Eventually, a community of celestials formed on the surface of Shiva¡¯s great core. The souls of the consumed stars shared their stories, their experiences of being conquered by Shiva, with one another. And with those shared experiences, perspective and idea were born amongst the hub. And with that, desire. ¡°Shiva took in every bit of information that was shared by the celestials, and decided to create a new type of star. As it gathered energy from the new stars it had created, it combined the energies of more stars than it ever had. This created the first planet. The first several thousand of these new planets failed to mimic the hub and harbor life, but eventually, some succeeded. ¡°As new souls came to the hub, they found their stolen energy reachable on these planets. They could visit their respective planets vicariously through their energy, which took shape in lifeforms on the planets. Many of the celestials found themselves living vicariously on the same planet as others, due to how many of their stars were used to create a single planet. ¡°This allowed the celestials to share even more with each other, deliberating with one another on how to develop the communities of lifeforms on their planets. They learned how to briefly transfer their consciousness to the beings in which they were living vicariously through, which they deemed their ¡°Celestial Counterpart¡±, or ¡°their soul¡¯s other half¡±. They began to take pride in their planets¡¯ progress as their counterparts learned from them, which resulted in intelligent species. ¡°They found that with every growth their planet experienced, technology followed, creating more energy on the planet. The planets eventually became super-harvesters of energy, which Shiva could, by nature, not resist. It eventually began to consume the planets, and repurpose their energy in order to create even more planets. As the planets were consumed, the Celestial Counterparts joined the hub as brand-new celestials, separate from their other half. As the new planets were created, the new celestials, who were once mere lifeforms, were able to live vicariously through the lifeforms on their new planet. ¡°These planets eventually became super-harvesters as well, and were consumed. New planets began, controlled by the same celestials. Shiva once again consumed the new planets, expanding the number of celestials as it created even more planets in its never-ending cycle. The celestials watched their planets die after watching them grow for thousands of years, time and time again. ¡°Eventually, a group of celestials developed a shared will- to protect their planets from Shiva¡¯s consumption. They had their own ideas regarding how to go about this, but a consensus finally formed- that the celestials should travel to the planets in their physical bodies, leaving the hub, and directly participate in the world they had previously overseen. ¡°At first, they found it strange that Shiva allowed this, but the reason soon became clear: that in their efforts to keep their planet alive, the celestials would find new ways to increase the planets¡¯ energy output. Shiva seemingly saw this as a form of tribute, and waited to consume the planets until it seemed their potential for new energy growth had reached its apex or stagnated. ¡°Shiva descended upon the planets whenever he saw fit, sometimes crushing the in-motion plans of celestials who had not yet done everything they had wanted with their planet. Otherwise, it waited till it could harvest maximum energy. The cycle continued, seeing more and more planets created and destroyed, more celestials born every day. ¡°The hub grew into an even greater community, each celestial sharing its learnings with one another. Their will grew stronger, as they searched for ways to keep their planets from being consumed. Unable to understand Shiva beyond his beginnings, they continue to this day. And that is how I came to be here.¡± ¡°You are¡­ a celestial,¡± JC mutters, his eyes wide. ¡°Which makes you a celestial counterpart, JC.¡± ¡°That¡¯s how we were connected all this time¡­¡± he says, staggering into the Director, who holds him up. ¡°Indeed.¡± ¡°And your goal is to protect the earth from Shiva¡¯s consumption¡­ right?¡± he asks, nursing his head with his hands. ¡°Well, I would not say I am hellbent on it.¡± ¡°What?¡± he asks in a panic as the Director helps him into a chair. ¡°Not all celestials share the same will. I am more of a pragmatist. If this world cannot be saved, I will chalk it up to my inexperience and use my learnings to make the next world better. However, I would like to keep this world going as long as I can.¡± ¡°Why?¡± he asks, looking down. ¡°For its energy?¡± ¡°That¡­ as well as you and your fellow humans,¡± I reply calmly. ¡°There is something about your struggles and endeavors that urge me to question my pragmatic methodology. Therefore, I want to give you the chance to take this planet¡¯s fate into your own hands. I imagine that is what you¡¯ve dreamed of for quite some time now, right?¡± ¡°Yes, it is,¡± he responds, looking away. ¡°But, is that my dream¡­ or yours?¡± The shutter clicks hard, and I find myself in Mathais¡¯ body. However, the feeling is different from before. Looking at my hands, I understand I will not destroy his body by being in it for too long. Which means that this must be the fake world. I usher the two melancholic girls into the theater, and motion for them to take a seat in the front of the circular rows of chairs. They refuse to look me in the eyes as they sit, no signs of fight left in their eyes. I sit between them before giving my body over to JC. Still barely conscious, I listen as he tries to encourage them, to no avail. The screen begins to show the stars in the sky, and I find myself separated from JC, unable to follow where the deep dream world is taking him. I wake within the machine once more. ¡°Ah, Aku-you¡¯ve returned.¡± The Director¡¯s voice sounds as cold as ever. ¡°You¡¯ll have to fill me in on the details of the dream world¡¯s game later, though I have my guesses. You see¡­ well, it¡¯s unfortunate, but JC¡¯s body has been deemed comatose.¡± ¡°And the girls?¡± ¡°The two subjects¡­ their bodies have been confirmed to be beyond saving.¡± I remain silent, allowing my thoughts to settle. ¡°What¡¯s worse¡­¡± he mutters, ¡°is that the singularity, Shiva, is approaching us very quickly. It seems he has deemed there is no promised future for this world. Perhaps you should return to the fake world, and assess its viability.¡± I immediately wake in Mathais¡¯ body. The girls lie on the floor of the theater room, unconscious. Without hesitation, I lift them over my shoulders and carry them out of the theater. The shutter clicks, and brings me to the lab. I close the door to the room the girls are being treated in, greeted by the Director. ¡°You¡¯ll have to fill me in on the details, though I have my guesses. This world might be our only answer, correct?¡± ¡°You know that it¡¯s me?¡± I ask, genuinely shocked. ¡°Where has JC gone, though? He responds, ignoring my question. ¡°I¡¯m sure you could project into him, no?¡± ¡°Give me just a moment.¡± The shutter clicks, and I¡¯m brought to the stars. It¡¯s as though I¡¯ve returned to my home on the hub as a celestial body. However, the blurriness in my eyes as I stare at my hands prove otherwise. Just as quickly as I land there, I¡¯m ripped from the body which feels so far away. The shutter clicks, and I return to the Director¡¯s side. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ we¡¯ve switched places.¡± ¡°But you still have your power, do you not?¡± he asks pointedly. ¡°It¡¯s there,¡± I mutter, glaring at my pale, dirtied hands. ¡°But I feel it slowly fading away from me¡­¡± ¡°Then we¡¯d better act quick,¡± he replies, somewhat stern. ¡°You should begin tuning this world immediately, and we will prepare the people to receive their true memories. That may be the only way.¡± ¡°You¡¯re sure that will work?¡± I ask, gazing upon his cold expression. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask the me in the other world?¡± he replies nonchalantly. ¡°I¡¯m sure his version of Laplace is even more accurate than mine.¡± ¡°Laplace¡­¡± I mutter, looking down. ¡°The processing machine built on the idea of determinism; the one thing neither of you will let me see, even though it could be a huge boon for the evolution of energy, the hope we¡¯ve been looking for that could turn the tides in our favor¡­¡± ¡°I do share most of my original¡¯s memories, after all,¡± he says with a short chuckle. ¡°And as I¡¯m sure he¡¯s told you, there has to be at least one trade secret you keep to yourself. Or else¡­¡± he stops, his usually stoic expression turning melancholic for the first time. ¡°You risk losing your value as an individual.¡± The shutter clicks with force, bringing me back to the other world. This time, however, I do not wake within the pitch-black abyss of the machine. I wake in a cold sweat, to no alarm. Wondering what I could possibly be doing, I gaze at my hands. The hands of JC lay before me. The theater I¡¯ve woken up in is the theater which he used to project to our fake world, styled the same as the theater room used in the lab of the fake world; only now, it has been transformed into a makeshift hospital room, with many tubes connecting my limbs to monitoring systems. I feel no sign of JC within my body. In a panic, I rip the tubes out and rush for the door, heading for Mathais¡¯ office. There, he and the Director sit with their hands covering the morbid expressions on their faces. Even the usually cold Director looks at me with wide eyes. ¡°JC, you¡¯ve returned¡­ no, you must be Aku, right?¡± ¡°How did you know?¡± He chuckles apathetically, looking away. ¡°It¡¯s come, even earlier than expected.¡± ¡°What has?¡± I demand, my numbed arms shaking. ¡°I told you before, didn¡¯t I?¡± he responds, raising a brow at me. ¡°The singularity in which we- rather, in which you, call home.¡± ¡°Shiva¡­ is here?¡± I mutter, my voice shaking more than my limbs. ¡°Indeed, we¡¯re being consumed,¡± he answers, withdrawing a cigarette. ¡°The world¡¯s largest powers have come together and tried everything from nuclear missiles to space travel. In the end, Shiva cannot be circumvented.¡± ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡± I plea, shifting my gaze between him and Mathais. You haven¡¯t given up, right? What about transferring the memories of all the world¡¯s people to the fake world? I can tune that world to replicate this one as closely as possible. And then, we can work on a way to prolong its life. You¡¯re the one who told me to assess its viability, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Mathais?¡± the Director responds cooly, nodding for the bespectacled man to speak. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s¡­¡± he says, his lips forming a grimace. ¡°That¡¯s something that could succeed, and we¡¯ve been hard at work registering every single living person in the world. The only issue is that we do not know the true nature of that world. We don¡¯t know if it will survive a transition from a fabricated world to a real world like ours. Also¡­ the only way to transfer all those memories¡­¡± He waits, prompting the Director to nod expectantly once more. ¡°Is to force those billions of memories through the PC Booster, into your coordinates. And then, we shift your coordinates, while you project, into the Mini Collider, which contains the coordinates of the fake world. It¡¯s a long shot, and one that your very existence, as powerful as it is, may not be able to withstand. We¡¯ve only sent a comparatively small fraction of memories thus far. Not only that, but the erratic behavior of the NPC¡¯s existed because we did not have you thoroughly vet every detail of the memories so that you could tune the world more accurately. Now, you will have to review them to completion, down to the last detail; so, the chances of mental failure-¡± ¡°I will do it,¡± I respond without hesitation. ¡°When will we execute?¡± ¡°As soon as possible,¡± Mathais replies with some hesitation. ¡°I will prepare things on our end. I suggest you two discuss how you¡¯re going to get yourself back into that machine.¡± He shuts the door softly as he exits the room, leaving the disinterested Director smirking at me. ¡°I believe you already have an idea of how you¡¯ll accomplish that,¡± the cold man says in a near whisper. ¡°More importantly, you should know- you won¡¯t be taking my memories with you to the fake world.¡± ¡°What?¡± I ask, dumbfounded. ¡°As Mathais mentioned, you did not review all of the memories previously sent from the PC Booster to the Mini Collider. To do things properly, it¡¯s imperative that you take in every last memory, and reconstruct them as they transfer to their new owner so you may tune everything. ¡°Right, that¡¯s what Mathais just explained,¡± I reply, raising my brow at him. ¡°Not only do I refuse to have my memories peered at,¡± he says, his smirk growing wider. ¡°I also do not wish to lose my value as an individual.¡± ¡°The same thing the other you sai-¡± ¡°Therefore,¡± he calmly cuts in, ¡°I¡¯ll be transferring my consciousness itself. It worked for the girls and JC, though he was technically just projecting into you within that world.¡± ¡°What about Mathais?¡± I ask, still in shock by his boldness. ¡°And what about the others working here?¡± ¡°We cannot have too many people carrying on awareness of what has happened, can we?¡± he says, a deviant grin finally breaking across his face. ¡°To control the masses, you must first control the spread of information. You and I will lead the world in whichever way we see fit. All for the sake of prolonging its survival¡­ for prolonging this cycle.¡± ¡°Cycle¡­¡± I mutter, looking at my hands, before closing them. ¡°But what about their memories? Won¡¯t their memories of this world¡¯s downfall carry over to the other world?¡± ¡°Are you saying you can¡¯t trim that little detail from their memories?¡± he asks, leaning toward me and looking me in the eyes for the first time. ¡°I did mention you would need to reconstruct them; which I¡¯m frankly surprised I even need to explain to you. But, if you like, do not listen to Mathais, and let Shiva come upon us. Once the destruction begins, it will be easy for their memories to be tuned to fit the other world.¡± ¡°How do you¡­ know all this?¡± ¡°Trade secret, Aku.¡± His voice, matching his eyes, spring to life for the first time as he says my name. The shutter clicks, and I find myself standing atop a soaring skyscraper. Above me, a swirl of white and reddish light bares down upon the earth, spawning storms and fires as far as the eye can see. As it draws nearer, I spread my arms out wide. Inviting its power to flow into me, I let JC¡¯s body explode into thousands of pieces. Before the hub can suck me in, however, I project my existence into the place I made home upon first landing on this earth- the processing machine known as the PC Booster. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± I declare in my usual calm voice. ¡°Shifting all assets into the PC Booster, with a follow-up command to transfer to the Mini Collider,¡± Mathais says with conviction. ¡°Good luck, Aku. Good luck, JC.¡± With a series of shutter clicks, I feel my very existence being torn apart from the inside out. I am simultaneously feeling the end of all life, and reliving the experiences of billions of people. Their happiness, successes, sadness, and struggles. Their love, their hate, their ugliness. Each and every one. One at a time, and all at once. I learn of all of them, whom I¡¯ve never understood. I carry their feelings, their hopes, and their dreams, to the fake world as I seek JC¡¯s body. It takes everything I have to maintain my existence, to manage the memories flowing into me as I convert them into energy in which to tune the world with. Waking with a start, I immediately expel my stomach onto the floor next to my hospital bed. Like before, I rip out all connecting tubes and race for Mathais¡¯ office. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve made it, Aku.¡± The face of the Director, slightly less-aged than the real one, grins up at me while Mathais sits, watching with interest. ¡°Everything seems to have gone well,¡± the Director declares, accompanied by a content nod from Mathais. ¡°Of course, due to the great storm, many have died,¡± Mathais says in a solemn tone.¡± ¡°Great storm?¡± I ask pointedly, looking from Mathais to the Director, who places his index finger over his lips while Mathais looks at me with confusion. ¡°The storm that prompted this mission, of course,¡± he says, raising his brow at me. ¡°Though, I suppose I can¡¯t blame you for being a bit out of it, after receiving so many memories.¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right,¡± I mutter, nodding at him while a sick feeling brews in the pit of my stomach. ¡°What about the girls?¡± ¡°They¡¯re still sleeping,¡± Mathais answers, pressing his glasses to his face. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle, really. Mary seems to have survived suffering a complete heart failure, and is even living without a heart at all... and while Mirei has a whole heart, her body is still so weak she should have already died. I don¡¯t know the details of the operation, but I have to wonder what has changed. I know the Shibutani¡¯s plan was for Mirei to take the rest of Mary¡¯s heart eventually, but for this to happen¡­¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t meant to understand everything, Mathais,¡± the Director says in an especially cold voice. ¡°That¡¯s right, my apologies,¡± he responds, shaking off the mixture of confusion and emotion fogging his eyes. ¡°As I was saying, the issue with those who have died here is that their memories could not simply enter a dead body. Therefore, those that have died, remain gone.¡± ¡°And their memories?¡± I inquire. ¡°From what I have been able to deduct through some experiments, the memories of those who have died here have found themselves in the bodies of newborn babies.¡± ¡°That¡¯s unbelievable,¡± I mutter in disbelief. ¡°It¡¯s entirely possible these babies will grow with the memories of the dead; in a sense, becoming them- or the version of them before the storm.¡± ¡°So, they live on, in a way,¡± I respond, eyes wide. ¡°Their life isn¡¯t completely lost¡­ so the world shouldn¡¯t be that far from the truth. But¡­ what about the loved ones of those that have died¡­ those who remember them?¡± ¡°With that in mind,¡± the Director cuts in. ¡°It is time to get started with the tuning. You have a lot of work to do in this world.¡± The shutter clicks through days¡¯ worth of travelling, as I re-tune the dreamscape to more closely match the original world, and follow its timeline. The girls eventually wake from their sleep as I tune the world to the point in time before they were put on the train. Thinking I am JC, they assist me in re-affixing the world to the state they remember. ¡°The Dansen Emporium was much more luxurious, JC,¡± Mary stoically reminds me as we stand before the thick glass windows of the towering Shibutani Headquarters. ¡°Father had them plant more cherry-blossom trees in the plaza, as well,¡± Mirei adds, smiling her charming smile. I grin as I continue tuning with their help, though the clouds in the sky seem to weigh heavily on me. I stare at them, half expecting something to form from their many shapes and descend upon us. With another shutter click, I find myself in the same office with the Director. ¡°Everything is going as planned,¡± says the Director, taking a drag from a thin cigarette. ¡°The memories of the masses have been assimilated to the people of this world. We even have most of our technical resources up and running, just the same as their originals. However, there is still a problem.¡± ¡°Which is?¡± I mutter, almost sure of the answer. ¡°Shiva¡­¡± he mutters. ¡°It seems that the more you tune this world to match the old, the more it only draws Shiva closer to us. This was always a possibility, of course. If we correct this world to a place closest to the one we knew, expending your power in the process, it is only natural that Shiva would come.¡± ¡°So, it was foolish to think we could create more potential energy by replicating the world we came from,¡± I respond, clenching my teeth. ¡°Perhaps,¡± he answers with a half-smile. ¡°It could be that this manufactured world reached its potential by converging with the original. Or it simply did not have as much energy as the real world to begin with.¡± ¡°Then¡­¡± I mutter, standing up. ¡°I will start from scratch- do it all over. Tune this world to the beginning. Wipe its experience and growth away, and start over.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asks, brow raised in intrigue. ¡°Even if you perpetuate a cycle?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what has happened to many other worlds,¡± I answer with certainty. ¡°It may be what Shiva intends, but if it¡¯s the only way to prolong this world¡­ if it¡¯s the only way to give us, to give JC another chance- I¡¯ll use what power I have left to put everything back.¡± The shutter clicks, and I find myself walking down the pier on the windy beach of Reykjavik, Iceland. I dig deep into my memory, and place the first images I saw in this world at the forefront of my mind. However, that alone is not enough to rewind everything. I have to destroy and simultaneously create, like Shiva. I have to keep all the lives I maintained intact, whilst thrusting them back to a starting point filled with uncertainty. I stare at my hands, and imagine JC doing the same on the hub. Suddenly, strings of lightning rise from my hands, connecting like spider webs with everything in sight. Thunder resounds alongside it, drowning out the sound of the waves as they swell, threatening to crash into the earth with force enough to create earthquakes worldwide. The sky fashions itself black and grey as it converges like the waves upon the earth. Sounds intermingle with the crushing force of nature upon the collapsing earth, turning everything inside out. Somewhere along the course of the great storm, I am washed away by its waves, engulfed and filled to the brim as my consciousness collapses. With a light shutter click, I find myself laying on the pier, soaked and cold. For a moment, I wonder why my body is having so much trouble retaining any warmth, until I gaze upon my hands. The hands of a young boy, frail and weathered, shiver in the dull wind. The moment of wonder I experience is just as short as the next, in which I lose all sense of understanding. In that moment, everything about me shifts. I wander down the boardwalk aimlessly, staring at my pruned hands. Compelled by the lively festival music and the bright sun in the sky, I shift my wandering gaze up. The shutter clicks, and I find myself projecting to the stars, from a certain rooftop. For some time, I climb, until the stars surround me, bright and angelic in their form. Archaic auras swim amongst them, like a pool of silver consciousness watching me as I travel. Far, far ahead in the distant space, I am beckoned by a light, one so ambivalent despite its monolithic stature that it incites both wonder and fear within me. I return to myself at the sound of a finger snapping softly in my ear. I open my eyes and survey her divine figure, shadowed by the dark. Her long brown hair flows gently with the wind, blanketing her face before revealing a warm smile underneath her beauty spot. ¡°How did it feel? What did you see?¡± ¡°The stars are¡­ watching us, too.¡± ¡°You think so?¡± she says, amused. ¡°They are reaching out to us, too, aren¡¯t they?¡± ¡°I wonder why that is, Jean. Don¡¯t you?¡± A series of shutter clicks ensues, full of experiences- ones I live as though they are mine alone. A happy home, turned into a bloodbath followed by a long trek through grassy hills. A new home and a hostile family. A smiling police officer and an exhausted foster mother. A weathered pair of headphones, a foggy night, and blood on a wet paved street. A ship, a man wearing a beret, and a note left in a small room. A park bench under a cherry-blossom tree, and a dark-haired girl. A large crowd surrounding an emphatic speaker, and saplings turned into trees. A small bedroom filled with empty food containers, and a white-walled room with no decor. A small room with machines and a lanky man with cold, dead eyes. The faces of two sleeping girls hooked up to machines, and then the faces of the same girls living freely in a different world. A speeding train, a fiery storm, an iced over earth, and a forest. Finally, a theater room filled with stars, which I am beckoned into, as if heading home. I reach the hub, staring at my hands as everything returns to me. Who and what I am, and what I will do next, fall into my mind like water or nourishment from food. After waiting for what seems like a millennium, I travel to the earth once again, and reach a certain machine- a machine capable of storing my consciousness. I can¡¯t see anything, but I derive that I am in a small room with two men. ¡°Mathais, what is this?¡± ¡°It is¡­ something completely new. It may be what Laplace predicted¡± ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Something alien¡­ something that should comprehend us.¡± ¡°No¡­ you don¡¯t mean¡­¡± ¡°Can you hear us? Do you understand us?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I answer with certainty through the machine¡¯s speaker. ¡°I understand. Everything.¡± The shutter clicks, and I bring my consciousness to a brand-new fake world where I walk along the pier as aimlessly as ever, never growing weary. ¡°This time, I will build the world even better,¡± I mutter to myself. ¡°So, JC, you have to be stronger, too.¡± However, another failure comes as I find myself in Mathais¡¯ body inside the third theater. The girls lay before me, unconscious again. The shutter clicks hastily through memories. I find myself inhabiting JC¡¯s real body once more, facing the Director and Mathais with an expression verging on desperation. ¡°I wonder why it is,¡± the Director remarks, gazing suspiciously at me. ¡°That your usual calculated attitude has disappeared, now that you are the owner of JC¡¯s true human body. In fact, I wonder just what it is you want to happen now. I have no qualms admitting I intend to satisfy myself, but what will you try to satisfy? Whose dreams will you try to fulfill, now that you¡¯ve seen first-hand how much a human heart can weaken one?¡± The shutter clicks through several identical iterations of the blinding light brought by the descending singularity, finally landing me back in the lab of the fake world which we¡¯ve migrated humanity to. ¡°It¡¯s already approaching us,¡± the Director says, his voice quivering almost maniacally. ¡°What will you do, Aku? Or is it JC, this time? Will you reset once more? How many times will this make it?¡± ¡°How do you¡­¡± The shutter clicks again. I stand on the boardwalk, ushering in the calamity of storms. I stare at my empty hands, shaking them in a mixture of despair and rage. ¡°How many times have I repeated this? As Aku? As myself? How long have I been lost in this dream?¡± Just as the lightning begins to spark from my hands, I hear footsteps behind me.¡± ¡°Stop, JC!¡± Mary screams, diving into my back and toppling into the boards with me. As we roll over each other, we¡¯re smothered by a spree of lightning. It rains down on us relentlessly, threatening to rend our flesh to pieces. ¡°Why did you come here without us?¡± she cries amidst her shrieks of painful terror. ¡°What are you doing to the world?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the only way,¡± I respond in a desperate voice. ¡°You don¡¯t know what we¡¯ve been going through!¡± ¡°Then why don¡¯t you try and explain it to us, instead of shouldering the burden all on your own?¡± a different unmistakable voice shouts out. Beyond the swirl of lightning, Mirei stamps her feet down the boardwalk toward us. ¡°I¡¯m never aware of everything, until it¡¯s too late¡­¡± I growl through gnashed teeth, trying to force the clinging Mary off of me. ¡°Stay away!¡± She continues approaching, and is met by a crushing wave, which freezes into dozens of large blocks of ice as it crashes into the boardwalk. Mary continues holding onto me while the lightning keeps our bodies planted to the boards. Mirei, however, is battered and impaled by the many shards of ice washing over the boardwalk, breaking through it in several large chucks. Somehow, despite the onslaught, she holds onto a loose board, and crawls her way back onto the fragmented path toward us. ¡°The way you¡¯re talking,¡± she cries, a fiery look in her eyes despite her deathly visage, her skin freezing over. ¡°How many times have we done this?¡± She continues crawling through the storm of ice as blood drips from her every extremity, while Mary holds me down despite her muffled screams. ¡°How many times¡­ have we been beaten by this storm that you have the ability to cause?¡± she presses, showing me the exasperation in her eyes. ¡°Why can you do these things? Were we just borrowing your power? Or is it because we¡¯ve been through this beating so many times? If you had the ability, does that mean you tuned everything? Even our dreams that influenced the world? The differing wavelengths that kept us apart¡­ did everything go through you and Aku? Just how much have you been using us, JC? And why did you genuinely wish for our trust?¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t so simple!¡± I cry, finally breaking free from Mary¡¯s grasp. I stand to my feet, summoning the sun itself. Pools of lava begin splashing into the swirling sea around us, some searing into Mirei¡¯s brittle flesh. With a blood-curdling scream, she falls through the melted boards, and finds herself pinned, the sharp boards caving in on her thin body as the storm swells like the apocalypse around us. ¡°I won¡¯t deny that I¡¯m using you both,¡± I declare, glancing down at Mary as the lightning continues to pelt her writhing body. ¡°I was raised to do the dirty work necessary to protect the world, so I¡¯ll accept all responsibility and all of your resentment. But¡­ I still want you to trust in my plan, like you did before. I know it¡¯s selfish. I¡¯ve been searching for an answer all this time, though. And I swear¡­ if you¡¯ll let me restart one more time, I will find it. I¡¯ll put an end to everyone¡¯s suffering. I¡¯ll do everything right this time, as imperfect as I am! So please, just one more time- believe in me!¡± ¡°I really do want to¡­¡± she whispers through choppy breaths, her tear-strewn face washed over by the waves. ¡°You¡¯d better make it right this time¡­ forcing us to count on you like this.¡± The feeble words that come from Mary¡¯s scorched figure barely reach my ears. The white flames rising from her outline engulf me as well, incinerating everything. Rapid shutter clicks bring me back to the theater, in a perpetual state of traveling through space. As if it¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever done, I run toward the hub. ¡°Wait.¡± However, something slows me down. Something different must have happened this time, as a sharp pain in my chest weighs me down. ¡°I promised. We won¡¯t go through this ever again.¡± Within the expanse of space, I discover a figure just ahead of me, its face and body covered by an astronaut¡¯s suit. In my hands, a great fiery ball grows, begging me to toss it to the person outstretching his arms. ¡°I won¡¯t do it anymore, Aku.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± a voice echoes from far in the distance. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Even if it means you shut off the cycle of energy production, potentially forcing Shiva upon us even faster?¡± he asks with a degree of condemnation. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Even if it means you cannot repeat anymore, and give the girls and yourself any more chances?¡± he questions, his very tone testing my resolve. ¡°Yes; because I only need this last chance. They won¡¯t suffer anymore. Neither will I. And neither will you, Aku.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll let every other possibility die with this world,¡± he presses further, a hint of desperation in his distant voice. ¡°I don¡¯t need any more worlds," I answer, turning my gaze away from him, and back toward the theater. ¡°Then the cycle we¡¯ve followed for so long¡­¡± he mutters slowly. ¡°IT ENDS HERE.¡± Encore I slowly open my eyes to the ceiling¡¯s pitch-black screen. The few lights hung on the circular wall draw my gaze down, where it falls upon the two sets of eyes staring into mine. ¡°Did we watch yours and Aku¡¯s memories¡­¡± Mary mutters, wide-eyed. ¡°Or, did we experience all those lifetimes inside the deep dream world¡­ during that showing?¡± ¡°Beyond that¡­¡± Mirei replies, an alarmingly calm look on her face as she turns to me, her eyes glazed over. ¡°The deep dream world, and wavelengths¡­ neither were the structure of Aku¡¯s world, but a product of your tuning; you could even say there is no deep dream world¡­ only this world you¡¯ve been constantly tuning to our hearts- isn¡¯t that right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s mostly right,¡± I respond, sighing lightly. ¡°Though most of it has been done unconsciously. I made myself forget this, along with so much else, so that I could follow my plan. I, myself, believed everything was the structure of Aku¡¯s world. And that isn¡¯t exactly wrong, either. It is the structure of Aku¡¯s world, compelled by my involuntary power. I may be the one tuning, but he is still the mechanism, in a sense. As long as he¡¯s here, with his celestial power.¡± ¡°As long as he¡¯s here,¡± Mary mutters, glancing at Mirei who bites her lip and averts her eyes. ¡°What?¡± she demands, baring into Mirei¡¯s crumpled visage. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you feel bad for him after watching that¡­ haven¡¯t we suffered just as much?¡± ¡°I know we have,¡± Mirei replies, looking down. ¡°But maybe that isn¡¯t the right course, after all. I don¡¯t know, Mary.¡± ¡°I have a feeling you aren¡¯t talking about me,¡± I mutter, standing to my feet. Mary follows me, quietly eyeing my idle hands, the hands that belong to Mathais. ¡°Sure, you¡¯ve suffered plenty, too,¡± Mirei says, quivering. ¡°But you¡¯ve resolved yourself. You want to end this once and for all, don¡¯t you? Aku wants to continue the cycle, because he¡¯s watched us fail so many times. He¡¯s lost faith in us, and wants to ensure the energy output of this world is at least maintained. That''s why he''s resorted to using us for entertainment..." ¡°That¡¯s exactly why¡­¡± Mary mutters under her breath, sliding her hand into her jacket. ¡°We can¡¯t really bring our wavelengths together as long as Aku is here¡­¡± ¡°Mary, just what are you thinking of-¡± Suddenly, Mary lunges at me, holding something thin and pointed. The object pierces my neck before I can react, and I¡¯m thrown to the cold floor behind the seats. ¡°Ah!¡± Mirei shrieks as she jumps to her feet. Mary takes a step back, wearing a conflicted expression as she drops the long needle she had just plunged into my neck. Before I can attempt to struggle to my feet, all sense of feeling leaves the body I¡¯m borrowing. My head grows heavy, and my chest heaves before loosening completely. It feels like everything is leaving me. My heart completely stops, and I feel my consciousness being lifted from the dying body. ¡°Goodbye, Mathais,¡± Mary says in a soft voice. ¡°And to you, Aku. Well, as long as this thing works the way that guy with the beret said it would. Leave that body and return to Shiva.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see you soon, JC.¡± Mirei¡¯s voice barely reaches me as I feel all functions of Mathais¡¯ body cease. ¡°Yeah, to punch your actual face when we bring our wavelengths together.¡± With a gasp I wake within my own body, still tied down by vines. This time, it doesn¡¯t take long to shake the cobwebs. Even though I just experienced death in another body, I feel more grounded in my actual body than I have at any point in the fake world. After catching my breath, I close my eyes. What¡¯s left now is to search for a solution. That must be why I¡¯m tied down to this place. With nothing to do but sit here chained by my own tuning, I¡¯m forced to think through the grand conclusion I¡¯ve promised Aku and the girls, and how to bring our wavelengths together. Throughout the many different worlds and lives I¡¯ve lived, both as myself and as Aku, I know there must be an answer I¡¯ve reached without yet realizing it. The answer I made Mirei believe in during her round. The reason I¡¯ve fought so hard for both her and Mary¡¯s trust. It¡¯s more than feeling indebted to Mirei- rather, it¡¯s clear that may have been fostered by Aku. It isn¡¯t that. And it¡¯s more than the fact that I fell for Mary while working with her in the early stages of this world, before the game began. My feelings toward them aside, I¡¯ve been bound to them by fate in countless iterations of this world and the other. This is what I¡¯ve struggled with the most this entire time. When Mirei questioned me on the train as to why I still work so hard for their trust and continue thinking of them, it struck a nerve. I know that my end goal is a self-serving one that will hurt them in the end. Therefore, I¡¯ve been asking myself the same question. Why, both in this world, and in the real one, have I been thinking about how to save them as well. Knowing it isn¡¯t practical, understanding it isn¡¯t realistic, and accepting that they have no future in the real world¡­ "Ah, it¡¯s been right there all along.¡± My answer lies in my answer to Aku- the discontinuing of the cycle. Once I reach that, I think I will know just what I¡¯ve been searching for, both for them and myself. All that¡¯s left is to find the way to stop the cycle. If there¡¯s one thing that stuck out to me in the final showing, it¡¯s where I might be able to find that possibility. To think, I¡¯ve already peeked in to where I might find it. I just didn¡¯t dive deep enough. Therefore, I need to find him once more. The cold, calculated man who sees every possibility, and seems to know when things will happen before they do. I rise to my feet, the vines falling around me. Now that I¡¯m aware of my tuning, freeing myself from my self-induced prison is as simple as an affirmative thought. ¡°How morbid, to think that it was me subconsciously guiding all the creepy dreams and mechanisms in this world, not Aku,¡± I mutter to myself. Without looking back, I break into a run, drawing from my experience as a mercenary to traverse the forest as quickly as possible. As I grow closer to where the city once was, I notice the overwhelming mass in the sky bearing down. Its bright, daunting aura threatens to strike down upon the earth at any moment. However, it shouldn¡¯t come just yet. It took much longer for it to approach in the past iterations, and that was with myself or Aku having returned to it. The reason it is approaching so much faster is likely because the cycle has already been interrupted. This is the first time I decided to remain here, along with Aku. It could be that Shiva came to reclaim one of us, and attempt to reset this world or simply consume it once and for all, before I can break the cycle. Of course, It¡¯s already reclaimed Aku, if what Mary said is true. That would also explain why I was able to use my tuning to free myself. Without Aku here, I can go wherever I need to without worrying about our wavelengths clashing. Could she have known that, and removed Aku so that I would have this chance? ¡°What a scary girl,¡± I mutter, chuckling as I run. I reach outer layer of the city, where I¡¯m met by a great fire. A group of cultists are throwing oil over a burning building, and cheering maniacally as it spreads to more buildings. Raising my hands, I verify that I still have the power to control vines. Several sprout from the ground underneath the cultists, and disarm them before scattering them deep into the woods. Redirecting my vines, I search the inside of the buildings, and to my relief, find no one inside. I discard the enflamed vines and continue toward the heart of the city. The sun begins to set as I run underneath Shiva¡¯s boisterous light, which dominates the sky. More fires come into view as my path leads me closer to Shibuya¡¯s depths. As one former street after another bursts into flames, I stop the cultists at the helm of the fires, and rescue any stragglers still inside the buildings. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t just give his power to anybody, after all. I think it makes sense for him to want you to prove yourself as a worthy leader, truly deserving of the power of a god¡±- the words I once used to spur Mirei onto the stage come back to me. This must be what I meant. Though it seems I was talking about my own expectations for myself. ¡°It¡¯s also what led her to believe in my plan at the start of this round¡­¡± I exclaim, pulling more victims from burning buildings as the flames slowly burn my vines to dust. Leaving them to aid each other, I rush toward the next building. ¡°Maybe protecting the people of this world is a key to bringing our wavelengths together.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s that simple then this should knock you on your ass!¡± Mary¡¯s voice rings out from the distance, along with a sharp crack of thunder. A thick lightning bolt rains down on me at a speed which I can¡¯t comprehend. As if deflected by some invisible force, however, it shatters into a million silver fragments around me. ¡°See,¡± Mary says, her silhouette visible atop a smoking building with light rain descending overhead. ¡°We had the same idea, but you¡¯re too mental to make it that easy, aren¡¯t you?¡± Behind her, another silhouette transfigures the rain into a sheet of ice over the building next to the them. The ice crashes on top of the flames, instantly dousing the fire and leaving smoke in its wake. ¡°Even if that¡¯s the case,¡± I call out, smiling. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. I couldn¡¯t put the fires out, myself. I was wondering where the two of you were!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± she replies sarcastically, summoning a heavy rainfall over the entire strip of buildings. ¡°We¡¯ll take it from here, so go do whatever it is you need to do. Then we¡¯ll sort out this wavelength nonsense so that I can kick your ass.¡± ¡°We!¡± Mirei shouts enthusiastically from behind her. ¡°So that we can kick your ass!¡± ¡°I look forward to it,¡± I answer, chuckling as I begin running opposite their backs. The dim forest path takes me to the place I¡¯d been seeking, the Worldbeaters Lab. Luckily, the cultists have yet to find the place. Its perimeter bears little light, as does its empty entrance hall. I take the elevator down, something I¡¯ve only ever done in the real world. It brings me to the lower level, where I rush down the hall, and open the door to the room labeled ¡°PC Booster¡±. A lone man sits, smoking a cigarette in a small metal chair. ¡°Oh, what are you doing here, JC?¡± The Director says, genuine surprise lacing his cold voice. ¡°I thought our business was over with. Since you''re here, maybe you can assist me with something. It seems a former employee of mine has hacked into Laplace, and taken some materials.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll cut to the chase,¡± I declare through choppy breaths. ¡°Who exactly are you, Director? What are you?¡± ¡°What an odd question,¡± he says, careful in his tone. ¡°What are you trying to accomplish, firstly?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but if you aren¡¯t going to cooperate, then I¡¯ll have to look for myself again,¡± I respond, lunging toward him. His cold, marble-black eyes open wide at the sight of my approach, but he smiles despite that. ¡°Breaking protocol twice¡­ I hope you find what you¡¯re looking for.¡± I withdraw a short vine from my sleeve, and plunge it into his temple. My consciousness clicks over to his memories instantly. I focus my thoughts, as if performing a refined search, landing exactly where I need to. A white-bearded man dressed in black stands at the helm of two graves, holding the hand of a toddler boy as fallen leaves brush their leather heels. Wiping his cheeks dry, the man kneels down to the boys¡¯ level, wearing a soft smile. The young boy reaches out with his other arm, attempting to grab the white beard of the older man. ¡°Hoh, just like an Ivanov, to reach determinately for what you want,¡± the man cheers, letting the boy grab his beard. With the blink of an eye, the boy grows years older, and reaches out once more. This time, he¡¯s reaching outside of his body, projecting himself. ¡°Very good, Ervin,¡± the old man exclaims, smoking a pipe as he sits in an office chair, his white coat contrasting the dark room. ¡°You¡¯re doing perfectly. Now, let¡¯s see how far you can travel like that. Go on, show your grandpa what you are capable of.¡± ¡°Understood, Colonel,¡± he replies in a dry voice. The boy floats through the city, eventually spotting two more ghost-like beings. Hiding behind a small house, he watches as one of the figures, bearing the visage of a boy younger than him, watches the other wail hysterically in front of the window of another house. The mother and daughter inside the house do not hear the cries. Eventually, the younger figure turns in his direction, and he abruptly flees. After floating around the city a while longer, the boy reaches the coastline and discovers the same ghostly figure of the younger boy, gliding aimlessly along the boardwalk. This time he seems to be watching the families frolic along the boardwalk, a stark melancholy pervading him.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The boy reaches his arm in the other boy¡¯s direction, opening his hand wide. ¡°You are like me¡­¡± However, he pulls his translucent hand back. ¡°But I have a debt to the Colonel.¡± He stops himself, and continues observing the boy from afar. Once the boy finally leaves the boardwalk, he follows at a distance, until the boy reaches his home. Peeking through a window, he discovers the younger boy¡¯s real body as he wakes from his projection. Immediately upon waking, he is interrogated by his father, who pays no mind to his son''s weary expression. The boy returns to his own body. Immediately upon arriving, he is assaulted by questions from the old man in the white coat. He describes the sights he observed in detail. ¡°Ervin, tell me everything you saw regarding the boy and his home. What kind of security measures are they taking? You¡¯ve done well. Just a bit more and you can rest. This is critical, after all, if we want to take back what was stolen from us.¡± The boy projects from himself again some days later, in the same dark room. This time, several armed men stand next to the old man. ¡°Proceed at your discretion, Ervin,¡± he says, taking a puff of his pipe before setting it down. We will follow you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re coming, Colonel?¡± the boy asks, his voice distorted by the silvery glow comprising his ethereal figure. ¡°Isn¡¯t it dangerous?¡± ¡°I am the only one that can see you, my boy,¡± he says in a patronizing tone as he stands to his feet with a grunt. ¡°Now, let us get going.¡± The boy leads the men from a distance, looking back frequently. The old man had been spotted by reporters who are now questioning him as they walk. He seems to be enjoying it, laughing as he answers them without any sense of fear. The boy ensures the old man is distracted, and reaches out to a place ahead. With some effort, he manages to project a second ethereal body from the one he¡¯s already controlling. Inhabiting the second body while he simultaneously glides the first along, he flies like a gust of wind away from the group, and reaches the boy¡¯s house long before them. Gliding to the second story, he passes through the wall into the bedroom belonging to the boy¡¯s parents. The father, sitting on the bed, stares at his otherworldly figure in shock. ¡°You are different from the others¡­¡± he mutters, reaching his hand out toward me. ¡°You are in danger,¡± the boy answers hurriedly, ignoring the hand moving through his transparent chest. ¡°You should all leave before ten minutes have passed. The Colonel is coming to take everything away. Forget your dreams, and leave here as a family.¡± ¡°What is this¡­¡± the boy¡¯s mother mutters, wearing even more shock on her face as she enters from the hall. ¡°Thank you,¡± the boy¡¯s father says, regaining his calm. ¡°I cannot imagine you are in any position to help us¡­ we will make sure not to let your good will go to waste.¡± He vanishes from the place without responding, and returns to the first body he projected into. The Colonel, none the wiser, continues following him. Finally, he arrives at the house once more, the Colonel¡¯s group in tow. The boy approaches the front door, and passes through it. What he finds on the other side as he reaches for the doorknob, however, freezes his ghostly body. ¡°Why¡­¡± he mutters under his breath, ¡°¡­are you still here?¡± The younger boy he¡¯d observed on that day is standing in the middle of the living room, preparing for another projection with the men they¡¯d been using. The two lock eyes for a moment, the ghostly boy hesitating to act. As he hears the footsteps of the group behind him, though, he opens the door. The group of media and black suits burst into the room, and the boy turns away, unable to watch as a struggle ensues. However, after a moment, something happens that forces his attention back inside. The young boy, who had found himself in the old man¡¯s grasp, transforms into something otherworldly. His face and body are the same physically, but his eyes are far from human. A slaughter ensues, the boy watching on as his grandfather is beaten to a bloody, lifeless pulp. Suddenly, something within him snaps at the sight of the otherworldly version of the younger boy. He vanishes from the ethereal body, and finds himself in a similar body amongst the stars. Sitting atop a fiery star, he gazes upon his new silvery body-complete with six arms the size of tree trunks. However, he doesn''t seem to be in control of the body. Taking a knee, the enormous body falls, cascading like a rockslide down the side of the star, and lands in a trench further along the star. Several other ghostlike figures, each only sporting four limbs a piece and standing at less than half his height, crane their spectral necks at him. ¡°One of the Six Arms¡­¡± a figure whispers, shuddering at his sight. The boy suddenly vanishes from the surreal space. He sits up from his chair in his dark room, covered in sweat and staring at his thin, trembling hands. He forces them together firmly, stopping their tremor as he rests his chin on his interlaced fingers. The scene shifts as the boy, several years older, opens his clasped hands and puffs on the lit cigarette between his fingers. He sits in the back of a small car which harbors no light aside from his burning cigarette. Suddenly, the car comes to a stop, and his door is opened from the outside. ¡°Welcome to Berlin, Mr. Ivanov,¡± says a well-dressed bearded man not more than two years older than the boy. ¡°Please, I am only eighteen,¡± the boy replies, exhaling smoke as he steps out of the classy Volkswagen. ¡°Mr. is a bit much- call me Director.¡± ¡°Very well, Director,¡± the man says with a smile, pressing his glasses with one hand and offering him the other. ¡°I am Mathais Frankfurt; I will be your liaison for the time being, and will assist you and my father in your research.¡± With a nod, the boy shakes the man¡¯s hand. Days later, the two young men stand behind a bright monitor in a dark room, a scraggly-looking older man sitting in between them and the monitor. ¡°Well, Ervin,¡± the man says gleefully. ¡°You really do have a knack for applying our tech. Every single one of the patients we¡¯ve implanted with electrodes has responded to your virtual therapy, and regained various childhood memories and specific dreams they¡¯d only vaguely recalled. Furthermore, we''ve managed to extract those memories with electrical signals via the patients'' nerve impulses, and we can quantify them within Laplace. This is revolutionary practice we could use to predict the future via determinism. It¡¯s as if you¡¯ve mastered neuro-engineering and its functionality with subjects, Ervin.¡± ¡°I simply learned what my grandfather taught me,¡± the boy replies calmly, staring at the screen which reflects his icy blue eyes. ¡°Professor, would you allow me to connect to the machine myself? I want to test some things on my own.¡± Later, the boy closes his eyes and finds himself in a pitch-black void. He follows visual and audio prompts such as a black and white spiraling flower, and navigates several incoherent dreams until he reaches a place in the stars. The body he inhabits, great and daunting, stands in front of several smaller ghost-like figures. ¡°One of the Six Arms¡­¡± ¡°Do not speak, lower celestial,¡± the larger figure growls. The boy shrinks at the intimidating voice from within the specter¡¯s body, unable to do anything but serve as a spectator. ¡°Alas, I have a guest far more esteemed than you all,¡± the six-armed beast continues. One of my own arms has finally come to see me. The beast raises its first hand on its right side, which quivers in response as the boy promptly realizes that this is where his consciousness lay. ¡°It is information you seek, correct? Perhaps power, knowledge, and the ability to understand your world and predict its events. Yes, it is the power to control, to direct those events, that you desire. Your world''s science may be able to do something like this, but its function will be limited. What I offer is on a much greater scale, since this place does not conform to the laws of space and time that you know. Well, I cannot offer my own memories, but perhaps some of these lower celestials were once counterparts in your world, or worlds like it. They may not know your future, but they will know a depth of history. And that is information enough. After all, by the laws of your world, we may regard the present state of the universe as the effect of its past and the cause of its future, correct?¡± Unable to answer, the boy manages to calm the shaking hand of the beast. Adapting to its shape, he outstretches each finger, reaching for the other figures. ¡°There, that is better,¡± it says, taking a long step toward the cowering celestials. ¡°Then, have as many as you¡¯d like. And come back here with more of the counterparts of my arms if you want to gain even more information. I will also store your current information; in case you shall ever need it again.¡± ¡°Lord Indra, please!¡± The celestial¡¯s desperate voice is muffled by a seismic rumbling, and their ghost-like figures are absorbed into the outstretched hand with unforgiving force. The place vanishes as if it never existed, and the boy returns to the void. This time, he is met by an influx of alien symbols rather than any prompts. Without hesitation, he accesses the symbols, and enters one new space after another. With every space, he learns new pieces of history from various worlds. After taking in every last piece of information, he wakes from his dream, and finds himself drenched in sweat with his hands clinging to the machine¡¯s monitor. Mathais wakes from his sleep aside him at the sound of his heavy breathing. ¡°Well?¡± he presses anxiously. ¡°As I thought, those two will be necessary,¡± he answers, disregarding the young man¡¯s excitement. ¡°We must go find two criminals that have been on the run. I suspect we will find them in Paris, France.¡± At the blink of an eye, the boy, now a grown man, finds himself on the side of a cobblestone road. A middle-aged couple wearing thick overcoats and top-hats approaches from opposite him, walking briskly. Before they pass him by, the young man steps in front of them. ¡°It¡¯s been ten years since I saved your lives, hasn¡¯t it? Ten years since you abandoned your son, even though I gave you the opportunity to save him¡­ Monsieur and Mademoiselle Christo.¡± The woman looks at him in confusion, while the man freezes, mouth agape. ¡°What is it?¡± the young man asks with a smile. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡± At the blink of an eye, the young man finds himself even older. Dressed in a brilliant white suit, he enters a room where the older couple sits in wait in front of a monitor, nervous looks on their faces. ¡°Welcome,¡± he says with a half-hearted bow. ¡°I¡¯m glad you could join me here in Japan. I hope you¡¯ve enjoyed your stay at the new headquarters of the WNSI- or as I¡¯ve named it, Worldbeaters. Well, you can tell me all about it later. Now, shall we enter Laplace together? You two are no strangers to this process, right? I am eager to see how you do.¡± Moments later, the young man wakes within the arm of the towering beast. Beneath him, the other two arms on the beast¡¯s right-side tremble helplessly. ¡°At last, you have brought more of my arms,¡± the beast declares in a satisfied tone. ¡°And the two of you have been trying to reach me for a long time, haven¡¯t you? Like a boy wishes to return to his mother¡¯s arms. Well, I suppose that analogy does not relate to you, does it? Though that incident is due to your unending obsession with reaching me, something ingrained in you that you could not comprehend nor control.¡± The two trembling hands fall loose at the side of the towering celestial. ¡°It is okay. You are here now, and you may partake in the granting of information, thanks to your fellow arm. Now, take what you came here for.¡± Finally, they stop shaking, and the three of us reach out to mercilessly consume more celestials. The young man wakes next to the couple, whose hands are still shaking, their faces pale. "You will have to re-enter Laplace''s virtual space in order to sift through the information. It may seem like a heap of disordered fragments, dreams or nightmares, but with Laplace''s machine-learning algorithms, making sense of those fragments is quite easy." Not waiting for a response, the young man makes for the door. "Your guards will show you to your room once you have drafted a viable report on at least one fragment of the information. And don''t forget, I saw what you did, and I''ve become quite adept at analyzing the fragments even without Laplace''s algorithm. Of course, I expect even more impressive feats from the two esteemed neuroscientists who sacrificed everything to continue their research." With a blink, the young man finds himself in the same room. ¡°Mathais, what is this?¡± ¡°It is¡­ something completely new. It may be what Laplace predicted.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Something alien¡­ something that should comprehend us.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± ¡°Can you hear us? Do you understand us?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± a deep voice answers with certainty through the machine''s lone speaker. "I understand. Everything." With another blink, he stands in front of a mirror in a luxurious, yet bland, room. His icy blue eyes have developed impervious bags, and his skin has dulled significantly. He straightens his tie without a hint of emotion, and blinks at the image of himself. Upon opening his eyes, he finds himself face to face with the man he once followed around town in a ghostly form. His slicked back hair paints him in a professional light, but his attire and style fail to hide the void within him. Unable to look him in the eye for long, he turns away, shuttering his eyes. The scene shifts as the man forces his eyes open despite a bright, burning light, and moves the hand shielding them to find an inexplicable fiery expanse descending from the sky. A burning sensation rises from within his right arm, which he raises to the sky, before retracting it. He turns away from the incoming disaster, and returns to the stairway of the lab. His footsteps echo rapidly through the empty halls as he races to a certain room, where he sticks several electrodes to his temples and closes his eyes. He once again opens his eyes to see the sky descending. This time, it seems like the sky itself is caving in, drawn in by a great thunderstorm. He sits atop the lab''s rooftop, alongside an awestruck Mathais. "Did we fail, Director?" the bespectacled man asks. "This time, we did," the man answers. "However, there may still be hope for this world. It depends on JC, it seems. I believe I may see you again, but we may not remember each other. Until then, I think I will get some sleep." His eyes open once more, brimming with tears as he stands in front of a pair of tombstones. An older man stands above him, holding his small hand tightly. When he looks up at his bearded face, the sun high above forces his eyes shut. The young man blinks as he stares at the monitor in front of him reflecting the icy blue in his eyes. ¡°Professor, would you allow me to connect to the machine myself? I want to test some things on my own.¡± He wakes to find himself on the surface of a great star, surrounded by ghost-like figures. "You have returned," exclaims the spectral figure he resides in. "It is just you this time, though. Well, I trust you will bring me more arms again, so I will allow you the same information I left you with last. I hope you will use it well to search for all of my arms, so that you may one day utilize my full power." The hand raises, pulling in the smaller ghost-like figures. The boy''s mind is ravaged by their information, stretched and torn into countless pieces before coming back together. He wakes in a cold sweat, his eyes glued to the monitor. He pulls the electrodes out, and continues to stare at the monitor, which reflects cold black eyes. "It seems transferring my consciousness between worlds was the right decision." Another blink of an eye brings him face to face with the professional-looking man within a small, white room. ¡°It¡¯s already approaching us,¡± the Director says, his voice quivering almost maniacally. ¡°What will you do, Aku? Or is it JC, this time? Will you reset once more? How many times will this make it?¡± I force open my own eyes, and pull my vine out of the Director''s temple. He stands in front of me with a labored smirk, blood trickling down his smooth jawline. His black eyes pierce mine while he lets out a chuckle. "Are you satisfied?" he asks, his smirk broadening. "You''ve been... all along¡­" I mutter. "Yes," he says, casually taking his eyes off me and sitting in his chair. "Through many worlds, just like you and Aku. Though I did not use my celestial power in the way you both did. I transferred my consciousness to the fake world, used Laplace to regain my memories when you reset the fake world and rebuilt it into the new real one, and maintained myself through countless iterations.¡± "You must be insane by now¡­" "A funny accusation, coming from you," he replies with a chuckle. "Well, I did say we share a certain bond... by the way, your parents are in a room just down the hall. Would you like to see them before you rush off?" "As you said, I''m in a rush," I respond, turning my back to him. "Besides, I can''t say I''m interested. It seems you understand my reasoning." "Indeed," he says in a whisper. "So, you really intend to end the cycle, then?" "I will end it," I respond, my back to him. "I suppose that would mean the end of this version of me, then," he says, stopping me from stepping through the doorway. "For once, my consciousness will not be merged with the original¡¯s. Perhaps I should accept this as salvation, much like those cultists. I can only hope the other me may one day reap that same salvation, in a world Shiva cannot harvest." "I¡¯ll work to see that day come," I answer with certainty. "So that everyone may be free of this." "How kind," he mutters with a slight chuckle. "Then let me offer you a warning, for your consideration. Speaking from experience, if you intend to return to the real world with all the information, all the memories you have gained this time around¡­ your mind may not adjust as easily as it has in the past. "Thanks for your consideration, Director." "We are business partners, after all," he replies cheekily. "So do I consider Aku, as well. I do very much wonder how you will settle things with him, JC. The girls are one thing, but how will you prove yourself to him, and break the cycle you have thus far lacked the strength to change? What answer did you find?¡± I offer a chuckle of my own as I step through the doorway. "That''s a trade secret." Riot I step outside the lab, and look toward the sky. Its reddish hue is accompanied by rising smoke from the spreading fires, leaving just one thing to behold. The earth tremors as the massive, boisterous singularity, Shiva, draws ever closer. "It won''t be long now," I mutter to myself as my ears perk up at the sound of footsteps. "Looks like I have some fans that won¡¯t let me get there easily¡­" A crowd of people appear from the street, and quickly surround me. "You''re the one causing this world to go to ruin, aren''t you?" a woman shouts from the crowd. "I forgot about the millions of normal people that received my memories," I mumble to myself, eyeing the area with a grimace. "Thanks for the parting gift, Director." I clench my fist, searching for a nearby vine. However, as I do, a sharp pain shoots down my arm, and my nose begins dripping blood. "Tuning without Aku... means normalizing everything, it seems." I take a deep breath in and out, and break into a sprint toward the thinnest part of the mob. The bat-wielding aggressors lunge at me, but swing at nothing as I deftly evade them, continuing without looking back. I turn down what remains of the main road, looking to retrace my steps to where I last left the girls. However, another mob blocks my path, and forces me in the opposite direction. Several other crowds appear from the surrounding forest, and join in a large-scale pursuit. The mob chases me to what was once Shibuya Crossing, where an even greater crowd turns their attention to me. I find myself standing in the middle of the paved road, now cracked and weathered, in between two armies of people I once called NPC''s. I tune out their shouts, and calm my breathing. "You two are here, aren''t you?" I call out across the crowd. "Hey, jackass," Mary''s voice rings from deep within the crowd. "Got a plan to get out of this? We''ve done everything we can to avoid using our powers, but I don''t think we have any other option now." "Yeah, I have just one," I answer, straining to talk over the mob. "Mirei, can you sing for us?" "What makes you think we can try something we¡¯ve already done?" Mirei answers sharply. "Think of something original! Have Mary strip or something!" "How about I offer you as a sacrifice, Princess Apocalypse?" "It''s Apocalyptic Princess, you ice queen!" "The other way sounds better!" Mary and myself rebut in unison. "Why don''t the two of you get a room?" Mirei quips, her voice cracking. "What did you say?" Mary fires back, clearly flustered. As the two continue shouting at each other, I focus on my vines, fighting through debilitating pain as I control them out of sight. Within seconds, they''re dragging an enormous grandfather piano into the street. The crowd scatters, allowing the piano to slide to the place I heard Mirei¡¯s voice. "You were serious?" She cries in annoyance. "I''ve already proven myself, so why don''t you use your all-powerful tuning, since Aku is gone?" "Because we won''t win over the people that way," I answer confidently, keeping my distance from the surrounding mob. "Play something, would you? I''ll take it from there." I force my way through the crowd, toward her voice. After a moment, a sharp note resounds through the crowd. Shortly after, Mirei''s frail voice begins swinging from one melodic note to another, reciting the lyrics of "Flightbound". I spot the piano, where Mirei is sitting. Mary stands in front of the piano, gritting her teeth at the mob, who seem to be taken captive by Mirei''s performance. "Listen to me, everyone," I yell, leaping atop the piano as Mirei continues to play. "I understand your fear now. I started off in this world overly wary of you. I thought you were abnormal, unpredictable, and volatile. I saw you as enemies without any reason. Now I know the truth. It''s my thinking that was abnormal. I misunderstood you at your core. You''re completely normal. You''re fearful because your world is in danger, which makes you just as real as the versions of yourselves from which you gained your memories." The crowd, now completely subdued, seems to be hanging on my every word while Mirei plays and Mary stands by, nodding at me with a smirk. "You''ve seen my memories, which means you understand much about this world and what is at stake,¡± I continue. "Please understand, I don''t mean to try and coax you into trusting me. You should continue seeing me as a threat to your world, because I may prove to be one. But, right now, I can assure you, I want nothing more than to work alongside you. Right now, there are hundreds of cultists burning what remains of this city. They aim to welcome the coming threat and let it erase civilization here, leaving only the world itself. They have attached themselves to me, but I myself have no reason to watch humanity die in this world. So, please, regardless of how you feel about me, about us, I ask that you come with us and prevent these people from hurting this world any further! And then, as one unified force, we will stand against the coming threat!" The attentive crowd begins to stir, and before long, cheers spread throughout. Gradually, the crowd begins to shift in the direction of the forest. "I thought it wouldn''t be this easy," Mary cries amidst the uproar. "Why are we so close together if we aren''t on the same wavelength?" "We might be closer than we previously thought," I answer with a smile. "But go ahead and try punching me if you think we''re already there." "I''ll save it," she grunts, glaring at the crowd passing by. "What¡¯s next?" Mirei asks, folding her arms bashfully. "Carry the Princess!" someone shouts, sparking more cheers. Dozens of people swarm around the piano, picking it up along with the leather seat Mirei sits atop. "What?" she cries, her facial features in utter frenzy. "Don''t tell me I''m going to have to play more!" "You catching the ride or not?" I call out to Mary, who grimaces as she hesitantly steps onto the piano alongside me. As the crowd tows us away, the piano rocks to the side. I stagger backwards toward Mary, who glares daggers at me in response. However, before my momentum brings us together, something forces our paths apart. As if running into some sort of static bubble, I bounce away, much to Mary''s relief. "See?" I ask, regaining my balance atop the piano. "Not there yet." "What''s your plan then?" Mary responds, bending her knees to keep her balance. "How will you bring our wavelengths together?" "What would you say if I told you I hadn''t actually figured that out yet?" I answer with a cheeky grin. "I''d say you''re an idiot," she responds, before turning her glance to Mirei, whose clinging to the piano desperately. "Am I the only one that''s given this any thought?" "I told you I was thinking about it!" Mirei screeches back, not even trying to mask her discomfort. "I''m sorry I don''t know how to form my thoughts into speech as well as JC can!" "It''s only a step above performing in front of a crowd," I reply with a wink, which she answers with a dramatic frown. "Also, how are you planning on getting to Shiva before it wipes out the world?" Mary asks, staring at the smoke-screened horizon. "If we follow the model in Mirei''s world, that''s the place we need to be in order to win. That''s where Aku is, after all." "You''re exactly right," I answer, staring at the hellish sky which harbors the incoming destruction. "I don''t know how we''ll get there, but I have a feeling this world of mine holds the answer." "A typical non-answer from you," Mary answers, clicking her tongue. "By the way," I say, ignoring her disdainful look. "How did you know doing that to Aku would make him return to Shiva? And where did you get that thing? I think you mentioned something after you attacked me, but the experience of dying seems to have bogged up my memory." "I''m not telling you anything, and I''m not going to apologize," she fires back. "You''ve killed us in far worse ways, and countless times, haven''t you? Besides, that worked out in your favor." "Oh, I''m not complaining," I assure her, waving my hand. "In fact, I''ll thank you for your help. Though I suppose someone else gave you the idea. And it obviously wasn''t Aku or the Director. I have to say, I really don''t like the idea of yet another person manipulating things behind the scenes." "Just assuming it wasn''t my idea, then, huh," she mutters under her breath. "What''s that?" I ask, processing her mumbled words. "Nothing," she hisses, refusing to look at me. "Look, we''re at the scene of the crime." The forest opens up before us, revealing a large residential area enshrined by vines and covered in flames. Dozens of cultists are rushing around the fires, emptying red canisters as they run. "Let''s see what you''ve got, girls," I exclaim as I reawaken my greater senses. My vines spring to life all around the area, and begin incapacitating the arsonists in quick succession. Mary summons a great downpour, leaving Mirei to freeze the water as it falls. They focus first on the ground, attacking the fire at the base of the homes and stopping its spread between them. My vines, having been seared by flames, freeze along with many cultists. The dwindling of the fires serves as the starting pistol for the mob, as hordes of them swarm on the cultists that managed to avoid the freeze. "A little ice stopped your vines?" Mary asks with her brow furrowed as she steps down from the piano, her bare white feet crushing the grass underneath them. "Just conserving some energy," I respond with a smirk, sniffing to stop the trickling blood. "Uh-huh," she responds flatly, continuing past the remaining mob toward the fires she¡¯s dousing. "JC, there''s more of them coming," Mirie exclaims from the piano''s bench, pointing at the forest west of the residential scramble. A large group of white-clad, knife-wielding cultists emerge from the woods and swiftly descend on the advancing mob. A melee ensues, forcing those around us to join the battle. "Can''t you handle this?" Mary shouts back, some thirty yards apart from me and the melee. "Or do you really need to conserve that badly?" "I guess you two aren''t going to be on board with letting them kill each other, if that''s what we''re rallying our wavelengths on, huh?" "Do you really need to ask?" Mirei answers sternly, remaining seated with intense focus on icing the fires. "The regular people are even pulling victims out of buildings. By your own logic, we should protect everyone and bring them together, shouldn''t we?" "I can''t argue with that," I declare with a light sigh as I step down into the grass. "When you trusted my guidance in your world with that same thinking. If only you¡¯d trust me that much, now." "Show me you''ve earned it," she responds, a slight smirk breaking over her bared teeth. Flashing a smirk of my own, I jump into the fray, running past Mary and diving into the battle. Using only my hands, I disarm one combatant after another, passing swiftly through the crowd. I face little resistance from the untrained civilians, but find myself running in circles as the combatants simply grab the discarded weapons off the ground. Eventually, I begin taking blows to the head and body. Still, I refuse to use any vines, and continue disarming and knocking down fighters on both sides. Gradually, I manage to incapacitate many of them, rendering them unconscious or unable to stand. However, my own body wares down with each passing second, which allows a cultist to my hit my head with a bat. I fall to my knees, where I''m swarmed by several cultists who attempt to hold me down.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "We¡¯re on your side!" one of the men cries. ¡°Please, let us prepare the world for its salvation, so that you can do your part without worrying about the earth''s destruction!" He wraps his hands around my throat, and squeezes. Due to the weight of the bodies piled on top of me, pinning my arms, I struggle to fight off the choke. Just as my consciousness begins to waver, a crushing force blows through the pile I''m at the bottom of. The powerful rush of water scatters the bodies, leaving me to stagger to my feet amid the flood as it turns into a thick layer of ice, rooting me and all the others to the earth. Gasping for breath, I look toward Mary, who stands in the grassy flat just in front of the inflamed houses, alone. Before I can crack a smile to show her I''m fine, I notice someone emerge from a fiery house, making a beeline for the girl whose attention is drawn to me. The man, bearing down on Mary with a knife in his hand, suddenly stops in his tracks when a gunshot resounds, leaving the earth in front of him splintered. Some twenty yards behind Mary, the man, donning a black suit that matches his rifle, waves forward more suits, who quickly tackle the cultist. More cultists emerge from the smoke and flames, running after Mary. They are met by even more suits, whose blue fedoras are unmistakable. Mary stares in shock, hands trembling as she watches the men subdue the cultists alongside the black suits. "Mirei, you¡­" just as the words come out of my mouth, a beautiful melody steals my attention. The fragile girl sits at the piano, striking down on the keys as precise and passionate as I''ve ever seen. Three black suits stand around the piano, but most of them have headed in Mary''s direction. As her voice belts out in unison with her sharp chords, an icy mist flows from the piano toward the fire, expanding and washing over the engulfed houses. Mary, drawn by the song like me, breaks her trance and refocuses on dousing the fires. Skirmishes continue to break out over the area, but most of the melee combatants are still frozen in place with me. The girls continue to put the fires out as the song continues, until the flames are nearly gone. The smoke dissipates from the sky as the fires are stamped out, and Mirei''s song comes to an end. The sun reveals itself, and begins melting the ice. I quickly break free, staggering to retain my footing as I gaze in awe at the sky, which reveals something other than the sun and the incoming Shiva. In the northern forest which I¡¯d escaped from, a tree taller than any skyscraper grows toward the singularity, winding and curving as it draws closer to the great star. As if trying to mimic it, countless trees around it grow toward the sky, stretching out like arms. "No wonder I tied myself down there¡­" I mutter under my breath with a chuckle. Everyone still conscious seems to be taken in by the sight, while I realize something as the ice around me turns to vapor. I turn back to Mirei, whose figure wilts like a flower as if all the energy suddenly left her. Just as she catches her head in her hands, a man emerges from the forest several yards behind her, pointing a pistol at her back. The gunshot pierces the air sharply, and sparks a monotonous reverb as it finds its home. Mirei shrieks as she skids across the grass while the piano''s bench rolls to a stop behind her, a lone vine attached to one of its legs. The piano, harboring a hole on its surface, lifts off the ground from its back end. Several vines pull the piano in one vicious movement, sending it on a direct course toward the man that I know as the Professor. The bulky instrument smashes into the man, throwing him onto the ground and crashing into the trees behind him. "Everyone, it''s time to let us handle things," I call out, turning the heads of hundreds of people as blood runs from my nose over my lips. "You cultists see now that your faith in nature has paid off in these trees that may protect the earth. There is no need to burn anything else. And no need for anybody else to fight. Just watch us face the coming threat on behalf of all of you! Watch me win and protect this world!" I burst into a sprint, cheers at my back as I head in the direction of the towering tree without looking back. Using my head start on the girls to my advantage, I scale the forest''s downhill slope in little time. As I expected, the giant tree lies just behind the place I broke free from. In the place I was stuck, however, a hooded man stands tall, arms folded patiently. He slowly lifts the hood of his cloak, revealing a black beret atop a messy head of hair. "You made it, Jean-Cathal." "Killian¡­" I mutter, dumbstruck. "What on earth are you doing here?" "Why are we all here?" he replies, stifling a chuckle. "Everything is an inevitability, isn''t it?" "Not you," I fire back, narrowing my gaze on him. "You weren¡¯t here in a single one of the previous iterations. So, how, of all times, did you manage to make it here for this one?" "You know, it''s really something that you can analyze that barrage of memories so thoroughly," he says, smiling. "I was fed your memories with the rest of the NPC''s, but I could not even begin to articulate the history of previous worlds, just that they existed." "It was you that broke into Laplace, wasn''t it?" I continue pressing, not letting my guard down. "You took information on Aku, and gave that information to Mary and Mirei, didn''t you?" "Yes, I did," he answers with a polite nod. "Though, it was Mary who had the idea to get rid of Aku, so all I did was the legwork." "When did you meet with them?" I ask, my tone growing more aggressive. "The only two times you and Aku weren''t around," he says, letting a chuckle slip. "I had to do quite a lot of watching and waiting; I''m shocked you never noticed me, even with all your vines. You''ve gotten rusty since you left my care, haven''t you?" "Of course," I respond in a lighter tone. "Because I was utterly defeated by the power of inevitability that you spoke of. The Shibutani utilizing Laplace''s information¡­ that power you respected was more terrifying than you ever imagined." "Oh, I know that now," he mutters, his smiling face going pale. "To think, I felt like my life was over once the Shibutani stopped giving us missions using Laplace''s predictions. I never expected to find more purpose than ever after that¡­" "That means," I exclaim, "you were the one that saved me that night when those Irish bandits had me cornered, weren''t you? And you were the one that brought Kaspar Reid to Japan, and told him to wait for me. All so that he could have his memories brought to this world¡¯s version of him, who was also in Japan. You''ve been supporting me from the shadows, in both worlds. After all, Mary only worked with me because of her father''s appearance, with his real memories. It was a shot in the dark for me, but how could you have possibly known?" "I did a lot of digging," he replies, smirking. "A lot of research on this top-secret project of yours. Still, it was only a theory that getting his memories here, along with mine, would help you." "And how did you do it?" I ask. "How did you get him and yourself registered by the PC Booster? Worldbeaters shouldn''t have allowed your identities in the system." "Oh, come on, Jean-Cathal," he laughs in response. "It wouldn''t be the first time I manufactured an identity. It wasn''t difficult to get involved in the mass registering they were doing, either." "But Laplace should have prevented you¡­ you''re a complete miscalculation not only from my perspective, but the Director''s, and Aku''s." "That''s true," he replies, chuckling lightly. "I''d imagine this was a one in a billion chance. I''m sure that in all the other past worlds, I failed to get here. Perhaps something about this iteration is different. Something to do with you, and your intentions." "Your implying my actions in the last showing had an impact on this world and the real one from the beginning, even though I just experienced that showing an hour ago?" I pose, smirking heartily at him. "Sounds a bit paradoxical, doesn''t it?" "Inevitabilities, Jean-Cathal," he answers with a shrug. "Right," I mutter, taking a step toward him. "Which compels me to ask, if you believe in the one in a billion chance that this world is the one that will succeed, then why is it that you are blocking my path?" "That''s simple," he mutters, glancing at the shriveled vines on the ground where I''d been imprisoned. "Because I don''t think you should win. And I''m going to kill you to prove it." A thunderous roar resounds from the darkening sky, and a furious rumble courses through the forest. However, I do not take my eyes off the man whose expression conveys a calm intent to kill, an expression I''ve seen many times before. I stay my eyes even as my ears perk to the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot behind me. Mary and Mirei run past me before coming to a stop, their hands on their knees as they catch their breath, silently watching me and Killian face off. "Go on up, ladies," Killian says, breaking the long silence. "Take advantage of my noble stand." He smiles the same goofy smile I saw countless times as a teenager, but never once takes his eyes off of me. Mirei nods and makes for the giant tree, while Mary hangs back. "See you at the top," she mumbles, before following Mirei. The two look upward, and then at one another. Mary moves first, summoning a bolt of lightning from her hand. As the lightning makes contact with the earth, Mary is shot upward as if blasted from a cannon. Mirei sprouts long, clawed limbs of ice from her arms. She clings onto the tree''s surface, and begins climbing it like an animal. Before long, the girls are out of my periphery, allowing me to focus my senses solely on the man in front of me. "You think I''m weak?" I ask, careful not to move a muscle. "I''ve watched you grow weaker here," he says, also making sure to remain still. "I just watched you naively go about thinking you could solve this world''s dilemma without killing anyone. And if your blade is so dull and lacking in resolve, I think it is my duty as your mentor to end this game of yours, before you actually make this your last chance and blow it." "If you die here, that will be the end of this version of you," I answer in a solemn tone. "You know that, right? So, why stake that on this idiotic gamble to test my strength?" "If you really are worried about whether or not this version of me will be living in a world you should be forsaking, then you prove my point," he chides, stricter than I''ve ever heard him. "Perhaps I simply don¡¯t want to kill the man who raised me," I mutter, finally letting my gaze sink to the earth. "Then it is too late for you," he declares in a dissatisfied, monotone voice. Before the words finish leaving his mouth, however, I shift my gaze back upward, and raise my hand just under eye-level. As I expected, he had launched a projectile even while speaking in monotone. His eyes go wide as he realizes I had been prepared, just as the small, sharp-edged bottle cap cuts into my open palm. Right when it cuts my flesh, sloshing blood into the air, I snap my palm closed over it. In the same motion, I shift the cap, wedging it between my curled index finger and the pit of my thumb. Before Killian can pull his throwing arm back, I flick the cap at him with even more ferocity. The sharp projectile strikes him right through his throat, and comes out the other side, leaving him to spray blook like a busted pipe. Killian staggers back, grasping his throat to curb the massive blood loss. Finally, he falls, pale faced, backwards into the enormous tree. His back slowly slides down the bark, and he sits with his knees bent, holding his throat while fighting to breathe. I slowly walk toward him, and stop beside his pathetic figure. He looks at me with eyes that seem ready for the release, despite his body instinctively fighting to live. "You shouldn''t have worried for me," I mutter under my breath as I avert my eyes. "Despite how weak I¡¯ve become, I¡¯ve always been careful not to let my blade dull. All so that I could continue doing the dirty work that must be done so that the world can sleep peacefully in ignorance... just as I promised you." "Win, Jean-Cathal," he wheezes, hardly able to get the words out. "And do not¡­ forsake your dreams, for your sense of duty, like you will here. Find purpose¡­ dream... and live." "Thank you, Kill," I mutter in response, brushing my bloodied palm over his forehead and shutting his eyes. Without taking another look at him, I produce a thicket of vines, and propel myself up the tree at a blistering pace despite excruciating pain, using nearby trees as well as branches of the sky-high tree. Eventually, I climb higher than any other tree, and continue ascending up the tower amidst the chaotic purple-toned sky. With one last thrust, I reach the top, where I roll over a solid, flat edge, coughing blood. Unlike the top of any tree I''ve ever seen, the surface remains flat, and thick with green grass all over the circular platform. I stand to my feet despite the pain coursing through my body, and find no one around. Nothing but crushing winds and the incoming singularity surround me. However, an eerie whisper reaches my ear as I stare at the descending star. "What plan have you been hiding deep inside your heart, JC?" Mirei''s soft voice cuts through the wind, as if she is speaking from the wind itself. "You don''t really intend to forsake us, do you?" Mary''s voice joins in amongst the slashing winds. "I do, and I will," I answer to seemingly no one, blood seeping through my gnashed teeth. "But what do you want?" Mirei cries, her voice growing closer as the winds whirl around me like a transparent tornado. "What does living mean to you, JC?" Mary adds with conviction. ¡°How do you want to live, and with who?" "You should know that, already," I mutter, pushing back on the suffocating winds with what little strength I can summon. "We won''t know unless you tell us!" Mary shouts, her voice growing ever closer even as the winds blow harder. "Then¡­ tell me what you two want," I demand, outstretching my hands to try and summon vines, to no avail. "What are your true desires? What dream would you make into reality?" "A perfect world," Mirei answers, her voice so close I can feel her breath on my cheek. "If we had any power, we would be the greediest people that ever lived," Mary adds, her warm voice brushing against my ear. "But a perfect world would mean that the three of us¡­" I mutter, my body losing its strength. "That we could all live and be together," Mirei whispers softly. "That we could remain by each other''s side," Mary whispers simultaneously as the girls'' tear-strewn faces appear above me. The wind ceases in that moment, and the girls fall from above, wrapping their arms around my neck as their bodies crash into mine. I manage to keep my feet and hold us up. Suddenly, however, I feel their lips on either of my cheeks, and my knees give way as their bare feet touch the grass. As they land, their arms unwind from my neck. Before I can catch myself from falling, my cheeks are met by another force. This time, both of them plant their fists into my face, smashing me down and flattening me on the grassy surface. My face slams against the grass, diverting its green blades. The wind blows once more, but with much less force. Unable to move my head, I watch as the wind disturbs the blades of grass and changes them from their steadfast green. One side of a blade bares a bright pink, while the other is painted in a deep ocean blue. Another blade is green on one side and pink on the other, and yet another is green and blue. Each blade is surrounded by the other two variants, turned over repeatedly by the calm wind to create a whimsically revolving field of color. The star in the sky charges down at us, clearing out any remaining clouds as six bright orange lights, shaped like great long arms, extend from a place far higher than we can see. The six arms begin a downward ark, tearing through the atmosphere itself. "It''s here," Mirei mutters as she stands to my right, shielding her eyes from the overbearing light above. "Looks like we can fight it together now," Mary remarks from my left, narrowing her gaze as she bares her teeth. "That''s right," I declare, clutching the multicolored grass as I rise to my feet. "You both stayed strong through it all. You''ve outdone me, and shattered my chance at an overwhelming victory. So, as you wish, let''s finish this¡­ together." dream;catcher Converging with the sky to summon a purple and orange haze, Shiva''s incomprehensibly bright figure bares its outstretched arms like fangs, the crushing mass of their downward arc setting the very atmosphere aflame as if to signal the coming apocalypse. From the tainted sky, a firestorm of lava pours toward the earth. Standing in its way, however, are the countless sky-high trees beneath us. The lava pelts down on their peaks, but fails to burn through their leaves and branches, creating an ocean of lava atop the trees. "You''re able to tune, now?" Mary asks, careful not to take her eyes off the arms that draw ever-closer. "I am," I respond, gritting my teeth to curb the blood threatening to expel from my mouth. "But it looks like I have some help. Even if the trees are impervious to flame, the lava should still seep through. Unless it¡¯s being frozen solid before it can get through my defense." Mary and I both glance at Mirei, who stands firmly near the platform''s edge, eyes closed and fists clenched. The lava gradually turns to ice over the great expanse of forest, rising like a frozen ocean as more lava falls, only to freeze. "Take a break, Mirei," Mary calls out, stepping to the edge beside her. "Why?" Mirei asks, her facial features smoothing over as she breaks focus. "Because the moment you let off the gas, the ice should melt at extreme speed before fully crystalizing," Mary remarks, brushing her long hair out of her face before cracking her knuckles. "Which will create a shit-load of vapor." As she predicts, the ice transfigures into a massive layer of mist, rising rapidly toward us. Mary, as if beckoning it, brings her arms to her sides before throwing them skyward. The mist projects itself, like rain falling upside-down, toward the six arms. "Now I see," Mirei exclaims cheerfully, clenching her fists once more. As the mist approaches the arms, she freezes it, creating another frozen ocean which smothers them all at once. Their momentum briefly stagnates, before the sound of shattering glass resounds through the sky. The ice splinters as the hands crash through them, sending shards the size of icebergs toward us. Mirei releases her hold, and the ice turns to vapor just before crushing us. Mary swiftly reacts, redirecting the manufactured waterfall before sending it smashing into Shiva''s hands once more as Mirei freezes it. And once more, the hands break through, shattering the wall of ice. The girls continue this strategy in circles, only managing to slow the downward arc of the six arms. Before long, their output lessens, and fatigue begins to show on their faces. However, they continue, until the arms come within a stone''s throw. A deep breath leaves my lips as I extend my arms downward. Outstretching my hands, I pull as if uprooting grass. Several trees spring up, shooting past us and toward the incoming hands. The two closest hands are met with crushing force by the trees, and their momentum slows significantly. After them, two more are stopped short just a mile away from our platform. One more is stopped before it can cut that distance in half, but the topmost right arm of Shiva breaks through one tree after another, shattering their monumental frames into thousands of pieces. The splintered, fiery shards rain down toward us like a barrage of giant spears, along with an avalanche of lava. "Mirei!" I shout in a commanding voice. She instantly reacts, throwing her hands over her head and back down. A small dome of ice spawns around us, covering the platform in thick layers like plexiglass. The falling tree shards crash into the ice around us, booming like artillery fire as they scatter below, never piercing Mirei''s dome. "That one isn''t stopping," Mary cries, her voice quivering as she stares at the incoming hand. "And it''s coming right for us¡­ what¡¯s next, JC?" "This is the last tree I can handle," I gasp as blood drips from my eyes and mouth, and veins throughout my body burst, giving my skin a bluish tint. As the last tree approaches the hand, Mary snaps her head to the ascending tree''s top. "JC¡­" she mutters, shock emanating from her voice. "Those cultists¡­ they''re on that tree." I look to where she points, and see a dozen people clinging to the branches, raising their arms toward the unstoppable hand. They''re too far to make out their exact number or faces, but two of the figures strike me as familiar. Before I can change the tree''s course, however, Shiva''s hand closes mercilessly around the tree''s helm, obliterating everything inside of its closed palm. Frozen, I watch as the hand opens back up and continues its relentless course. "It was only a small number of them," Mirei says in a soft voice despite her struggle to maintain the dome of ice. "There were so many cultists before. That means that only those few insisted on coming here." "Which means the rest must have taken shelter with the rest of the townspeople," Mary mutters, the energy in her voice rising with every word. "Then, your words, JC, and our efforts... meant something." "And that''s the key to conquering this world," I reply, smiling at her back. "But how do we fight each other to win Aku¡¯s power?" she follows, her tone reverting to its earlier melancholy. "It looks like I''m the only one that can move... if only that meant this thing would disappear into space." "The only option is to fight in the deep dream world," I exclaim, drawing the attention of both girls. "I don¡¯t like it, that''s the only way we can buy time, too, since time passes differently there." "But that''s just tuning, isn''t it?" Mirei asks in a labored voice as she continues to maintain her ice. "I thought you couldn''t anymore? Even your power to manipulate nature has collapsed." "I have to get to Aku," I mutter. "Then I can do it." "But how?" Mary asks, brow raised. "Hit me with your lightning," I answer with haste. "Try to kill me. That may be the only way I can project like I used to." "What?" she exclaims, facing me with a terrified look. "What if you actually die? You''re already weak¡­" "This is my world, Mary," I respond. "I won''t die so easily. You should know that better than anybody." "But..." "Mary, hurry," Mirei urges. "It''s almost here; I can''t hold much longer!" Mary''s frantic eyes flicker back and forth from Mirei to me, and time seems to stop as we lock eyes. "You know, even without my goals in leading us here," I whisper softly, latching onto her gaze. "I would have sought your trust, Mary. I would have wanted to work together. That''s because¡­" Her eyes narrow as she stares unflinchingly at mine. "I''ve loved you for a very long time, now," I declare with a weak smile. Her eyes open wide, and her mouth falls open. "During our time together in this world, before this game began," I continue, "I had time to get to know you. I fell in love in a way I''d never experienced before. For the first time, I didn''t feel like I was bound to a duty or just going through the motions due to a sense of obligation. Even though I was pursuing my goals, that time I spent as your manager was the only time I truly felt like a person living in this world. Everything I experienced before it in the real world was only a daydream, in comparison. Living with you, even in this fake world, was life at its fullest. I may be a broken person, but I know it¡¯s a very real love. And it isn''t something that Aku felt - I can say with certainty that it was only me." "Do you have to do this right now?" Mirei cuts in, her voice shaking with frustration. "It''s making me feel less inclined to keep this avalanche from crushing you like a slug." "No, Mirei," I respond with a smirk. "I must make it very clear that my feelings for you are very different from my feelings for Mary." The dark-haired beauty turns redder with every word, her expression undergoing a mix of fluster, shock, and anger. "Because while Aku''s feelings had an impact on my obsession with supporting you, I alone loved Mary here in this world. When I was with her, I thought that I might just give everything up for the chance to take the other half of her heart for myself, along with the rest of-" Before the word can leave my mouth, I see a glimpse of Mary''s murderous glare before a flash of light leaves her hand and strikes me head on. For a moment, I enter the void of darkness. I recall the sobering sound of my mother''s voice, and the sight of the starry sky. With a slow breath, I leave my body, and float away in the same silvery form I assumed as a child. With a glance at Mary, who stares at my figure in disbelief, and Mirei, who begins to loosen her hold at the sight of my projection, I propel myself skyward. Through the falling tree shards and lava, I fly, toward the gigantic godlike entity. Close enough to see the surface of the fiery star, I search for the one I know well. I spot him, standing in solitude whilst staring at his empty hands. Reaching my blurry, silvery hand out, I make for Aku. Suddenly, Shiva¡¯s last free arm turns its attention on me. Like it had with the cultists, it swiftly and mercilessly clamps its fingers shut around me. At that moment, I feel the trees under my control break and fall toward the earth as the other five hands bare down on the dome of ice surrounding the girls. My projected body is folded and compressed, smothered into static by the hand. However, I maintain my outstretched hand, and free it from the overwhelming grasp. "Move, Indra," I call out. "You have no right to get in the way of another Celestial connecting with its counterpart." "Such pertinence," a deep voice growls from within the oversized hand as it squeezes me harder. "That one is a lower Celestial, yet you think I am obligated to listen to you?" "You have the Director''s memories," I respond, struggling to maintain my projection. "His information should have revealed the magnitude of mine and Aku''s history. I have business with you, too, but I need to settle things with Aku, first." "Indeed, I am interested in your answer," he growls with a hint of satisfaction akin to the Director''s. "Take me with you, so that I may watch this resolution of yours." I feel his grip loosen just slightly, but it''s enough to move. Mustering enough strength to make my consciousness writhe, I carry the enormous hand with me, closing the last bit of distance to where Aku is. He looks up, revealing dazed eyes behind a static helmet''s glass visor, which reflects my outstretched hand. Before he can turn in the opposite direction, though, I grasp onto his opened hand. The moment we touch, the world shifts. I find myself in an imitation of my body, standing upon a shaking wooden pier. The girls are standing in front of me, staring at the thrashing ocean¡¯s waves underneath us and the stormy sky above. "It worked," Mary mutters, glancing at me with a conflicted expression. "How did you bring us with you from so far?" "The same way I brought you to the train the moment I changed the world from a simple replica," I reply in a cold voice, both girls narrowing their gazes on me. "And when the world reset for the second and third rounds," I continue, walking past them and looking down the pier where someone wearing a suit and an astronaut''s helmet stands alone, holding something bright in his hands. "I projected into your consciousnesses, and tuned your bodies to where I was." "What else?" Mirei asks, her voice quivering. "What else did you do to us? What did you put in our heads when you were there?" "My tuning ability," I answer, walking on without checking their reactions. "So that you would be the ones changing the world; I would be a mere guide, so that you could be the narrators of your own story." "So¡­ everything about the structures of our worlds¡­" Mary stammers, standing still. "What we thought was Aku carrying out your subconscious tuning¡­ really was us¡­" "It''s still true that Aku carried out the tuning, but you were the ones that dictated it," I respond as my footsteps halt. "I only determined which of you would be in control of each round. So, I didn''t actually lie to you about your changing the world. I didn¡¯t do anything, until this round." "But¡­" Mirei says in a faltering voice, taking a step forward. "You did lie. You told us that our emotions made the world change in our favor, that our worlds were changed by who showed stronger dreams." "But now you''ve just told us that you shifted the tuning power to us before-hand," Mary adds in a sullen voice. "So, my round didn¡¯t shift to my dreams because of anything I did¡­ like I''ve been saying, it''s all just a farce." "Yes, but I didn¡¯t know I was lying," I mutter, keeping my gaze on the one standing in the distance. "Because, when I shifted the tuning power to each of you, all memories of the ability, and my plans, went with it, and laid dormant inside you." "Exactly as I was thinking," Mirei exclaims, stepping closer to me. "That''s why I somehow felt compelled to believe in this plan of yours during my round. Because the plan itself was buried somewhere deep in my head. It was similar for Mary, wasn''t it? That¡¯s what made her believe you honestly wanted her trust.¡± "You sure guided us, huh?" Mary seethes, stomping after Mirei. "By manipulating us on a level we never could¡¯ve imagined." "I can''t deny that," I answer, fastening my pace as they draw closer. "But it was a double-edged sword," Mirei declares with a smirk as her frail figure passes ahead of me. "You helped make us strong enough to beat you, after all!" "That''s right," Mary adds, pulling my arm to curb my speed as she runs by me. "You wanted us to become strong enough to help you get here, but we might be too strong for you now!" She runs ahead, brushing by Mirei on the path to where Aku stands still. I run after them, as fast as my legs will take me. Quickly catching up to them, I push them aside and continue ahead, but they stand their ground, push back, and pass me again. They push each other before I catch up, the three of us vying for the finish line. "You know, Mirei, I did remember a key component of my plan during your round," I remark, pulling her backward as I pass her. "Making you both strong enough to be leaders in this world was crucial. Because, if someone had to remain here and continue to maintain this world, it couldn''t be me. The people only took my direction to solve the crisis the cult was causing, but it wasn''t lost on them that the cult was acting according to my will, even though I denied them. I used that, too. To show you both that I''m not worthy to remain here. But you are, because you''re strong enough, thanks to everything you''ve been through. The people know that, too." "You''ve really thought everything through, haven''t you?" Mary chides, shoving her elbow in my face as she pulls ahead. "That''s still up to us though, isn''t it? How to use the strength we gained by tackling our dreams... so, let''s stay here together, JC, and let the girl who should¡¯ve already won¡­ return!" "You know that can''t work," I cry, grimacing as I push past them once more. "Neither of you will be able to live long in your real bodies, no matter how strong you''ve grown here! And even then, you''ll live that short, painful life without the other!" "Why not take that chance, if it means we can save Mary?" Mirei exclaims, pushing between us and grabbing my right arm. "You don''t even know how strong we''ve become, JC. The lengths we''ve gone when you weren''t watching¡­" She pulls my arm across her body, and plants it firmly onto Mary''s chest. Mary''s face goes white as I feel her soft bosom, my hand pounding as if my own heart lay within it. My own face goes white, however, as I realize that it is not my hand punding. What I feel in my hand, rather, is the furiously beating heart inside the girl who should no longer have one. "When did you¡­" I gasp, unable to move anything but my legs. "When you wondered where we were while you were running around stopping the cultists," Mary answers, grabbing my hand and shoving it into my chest. "With a lot of luck and even more drugs, we pulled off the most ill-advised heart transplant ever heard of, and recovered in time to punch you in the face. " "But how¡­" "It was thanks to your friend, Killian," Mirei adds with a smile. "It was my way of compromising with Mary, so that we could work together on connecting our wavelengths. And we were the ones that made it happen, too."If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "What about you?" I ask, glancing at her chest. "Here," she says nonchalantly, taking my hand and placing it on her chest, causing mine and Mary''s faces to go white once more. "I didn''t give it all back, of course. She was graceful enough not to ask for that. So instead, I kept the half I recently took, and gave her the half that I originally took, which also held what little bit of my own heart that remained. That way, I retained the strength I gained in my world, and she regained a piece of herself she''s long missed." "That''s wonderful," I declare, a big smile breaking over my face as I retract my hand. "You both outgrew my expectations, and ended up stronger than I ever imagined. That''s perfect, then¡­ because now, I can trust that you''ll be okay here by yourselves." "You really are dead set on going back alone, then," Mary mutters, her sullen eyes piercing my heart. "Even though it''s possible to return with one of us, instead of Aku''s power. And you talk about us being strong enough to remain, knowing that we¡¯re just going to disappear with this world once you leave with Aku''s power. But you won''t return without it, will you?" "I have a dream I must grasp," I answer, breaking ahead of them as we close in on the motionless Aku. "It''s that simple. I told you I would use you both to reach my goal, didn''t I? Regardless of my feelings for you. That¡¯s what it takes to win." "Your goal," Mirei says, unable to reach me with her outstretched arm. "Is it really to preserve your own mind? To prevent your weaknesses from taking over your heart?" "That''s part of it," I answer, focused on the goal ahead. "I''m about to discuss that with Aku." With one last lunge, I reach out and grab onto the ball of light in his arms. "Because this is my victory." Just as I touch it, their hands reach my back. Everything seems to freeze, as the ball of light grows within my hand, blocking everything else from sight. "We know," Mary whispers, as the two of them push my back ahead softly. "After all, if our innate trust in you was ever going to work, we would have to assume your plan was something we could really believe in, despite everything you''ve put us through." "What?" "You were comforting us all the way through, weren''t you?" MIrei gently adds. "Telling us to trust that you would make everything okay. We realized that whenever we traded hearts. That feeling surfaced in both of us, for some reason. So, know that we''re trusting you not because you manipulated us into it, but because we saw into your heart and chose to believe in the answer you''ll find. For us, for yourself, and for these worlds we''ve been living in together. Even if that answer does forsake us¡­ it''s up to you now." Before I can utter a response, the bright light overtakes us, and the world shifts once more. I''m standing on the same pier, but the girls are gone. The sky and ocean are acting as normal, and the beachside villas line the boardwalk. "I never thought we would make it here," the low voice belonging to none other than Aku seethes behind me. I turn to see a teenage boy with a thin frame and long, ragged hair- the boy I once was. "This is the first time we''ve talked face to face like this," I respond with a chuckle. "Even in the deep dream world, there''s always a barrier preventing us from truly seeing each other." "That is our nature," he says, smiling in return. "Two sides of the same coin. Yet through all of the iterations and worlds we have created, we have never been able to have a conversation like this.¡± "The worlds we created¡­" I mutter, narrowing my gaze on the younger version of me Aku embodies. "That is why you came here, isn''t it?" he responds, turning his back while maintaining eye contact. "To explore the root of your dreams; this dreamscape that you''ve created time and time again. Shall we take a walk?" He leads the way as we stroll down the boardwalk. Various paths lead to different stalls manned by smiling faces and exuding either savory festival smells or whimsical folk music. The water underneath the pier is as calm and blue as ever, reflecting a sky unblemished by a single cloud. "Now, I don''t believe you could have come here, to the root of your dreams and the heart of the dreamscape, without understanding what it is, correct?" he asks, smiling. "It must be something I realized at the end of the previous iteration, when I resolved to end the cycle," I respond, breathing calmly as a soft breeze stirs my firmly slicked back hair. "Part of the plan that I devised, and the memories I lost when I transferred the tuning power to Mary. Yet, even having regained the rest of my memories, I can''t fully reform the fragments of that key piece of information." "What, if you had to theorize, do you believe it is, then?" Aku asks, turning down a path leading to several villas. "The root of my dreams," I mutter, gazing inside the window of the first house. Inside, imitations of my parents laugh as they sit at a table, opposite a young version of me. "I must have created this dreamscape subconsciously, using your Celestial powers to do the tuning. Taking it a step further, I must have subconsciously summoned you here for that very reason." "I can put it in even simpler terms than that, for you," the young boy responds as he watches the happy family inside the house. "This place was created by the very phenomenon it''s named after- your dreams. It was first created when you lost your home and wandered the countryside with me in control of your body. During that time, you were living inside your dream, using this place as its base. And to add to that, you subconsciously created me for the purpose of tuning your dreamworld; the only instance of a Celestial being born from its counterpart, rather than Shiva''s natural process." "When did I do that?" I mutter, staring at him in disbelief. "When you first projected toward the stars," he responds, grinning back at me. "The moment your mother first showed you something abnormal relative to your earliest years'' experience as an innocent child. You, sensing danger to the environment you instinctively wanted to protect, conceived a means to protect it. Amazing, isn''t it? The power of a child''s innocent dreams..." "What I wanted to protect?" "All that you see around you, I presume," he says, gesturing with his opened hand toward the boardwalk''s main drag filled with festival-goers; families with children frolicking about, friends singing, and couples dancing, all without a care. The folk music fills the air with a sense of home as I watch the happy people, before turning back to the house, where my parents now sit with an older version of me. "A simple, happy future," I mutter softly. "A life so normal I could innocently dream as far as the stars. This place is meant to create the possibility for that future." "That''s exactly right," the boy whispers, turning his back to me. I follow him, and gaze into the window of the house across the first. Inside, an imitation of the present me sits at a small table, raising glasses alongside two beauties whom I know well. Mary looks happier and freer than she ever could have, while Mirei laughs more heartily and carefree than ever. "You created me so that I could take care of things in your place, and you created this world so that you could pursue your own happiness, without leaving behind the ones that matter most to you." I turn back to the first house, and hear the clicking of a shutter as I blink to stop a tear. The scene changes again, showing an even older version of me a sofa next to a casually-dressed Mary, who holds an infant in her arms as she rests her head on my shoulder with a full smile. The shutter clicks as I blink again to find another scene in the opposite house. Mirei sits at an exquisite piano, dressed in red Christmas garb and happily playing for a red-faced Mary and me as we empty our glasses. I blink again as I circle around, and watch as my parents hold the same infant, tears in their eyes as Mary and me watch them with content grins. The shutter clicks once more as I turn away, begging the images to stop playing out. The scenes change in both houses, but the welling tears blur my vision. "So, let me take up your duty, as I was born to do," Aku mutters softly beside me. "This world will exist as long as one of us remains here. So, stay, and live your life as you''ve dreamed for so long. You''ve met the requirements to win; all you need to do is state your choice. I will handle the rest." The festival music slowly draws to an end, leaving only the sound of waves softly splashing the underside of the boardwalk. "I want nothing more than to be with them," I utter in response, doing everything in my power to keep the welling tears at bay. "Yes, of course you do," Aku responds in a soft, encouraging voice. "But that is not my answer," I declare, blinking my blurred eyes clear without a shutter¡¯s click. The houses, people, and long boardwalk are gone, leaving just a small stretch of the pier and a shocked Aku in front of me. "I''m going back," I continue, gazing at the young me unflinchingly as his eyes grow wider. "I know now that you were fighting to maintain the cycle not only to preserve yourself, but to protect the weak me who couldn''t grow strong enough- the one that always won out over the strong me. Thank you Aku... but I no longer need you to do that." His gaze slowly sinks, a weak smile forming on his thin face. "But I won''t absorb you, or obliterate you, or take your powers back with me," I declare, staring firmly at the boy, who raises wide eyes once more. "I will sever our connection for good, making me as normal as I''ve always wanted to be, and leave you here with our combined power- to protect this dream of mine." "That may end the cycle and save this world, and the girls'' lives here, but what about the other world?" he asks, failing to hide the desperation in his eyes. "All this time, we''ve worked toward the goal of using my power to protect your world from Shiva!" "I have a plan for that too," I answer, resolute. "You won''t have to worry about that, or Shiva and the harvesting of energy, ever again. Just live here. You''ve wanted that for a long time, too." "And what about you?" he asks, making an expression more mature than his appearance should allow. "You''re choosing the path that will see you left with all the scars! You''re going to throw away your own happiness for the sake of your duty?" "I will pursue my own happiness in the world I''ve been running away from for so long," I respond, smiling softly. "And I will also follow through with my own responsibilities. I can''t promise you I will find happiness, but I will dream greater, and strive for a more proper life than I ever have. Isn''t that enough?" "...if it is enough for you," he mutters, smiling weakly as a white light rises from the sea and slowly envelops him from the feet up. "Well¡­ our time together was short, but I suppose this is goodbye." "Goodbye, Aku," I say, reaching my hand out. He hesitantly follows, and our hands clasp firmly. "I''m sorry for forcing all the hard work onto you, all this time. I only have one job left for you. Please, take care of this world. Take care of the girls." "I¡¯ll do what I can," he answers in an innocent, youthful voice and with a bashful grin befitting his childlike features- an expression I would have never been able to make. "Thank you, JC." His teeth flash before me as our hands are severed by the enveloping light, leaving me alone on the small cutout of the pier. "Bravo," a deep voice cows from the calm sea behind me. I turn to find a man with the face of the Director, but long locks I could never even picture the man sporting. In addition, he boasts six arms, all folded as he sits cross-legged, floating across the water like a leaf. "Indra," I mutter, narrowing my gaze upon the intimidating figure. "I will admit, you have left me entertained," he says with a lifeless grin. "Now, are you sure you want to leave this world to that fake Celestial you created? And give him full control over the power you should, by all rights, be keeping for the sake of your real world?" "Like I said, I have a plan," I respond curtly. "I''ll cut to the chase. I want you to lead Shiva away from this world at once. Do not bring any more ruin to this place. Furthermore, I want you to stave off Shiva''s assault on the real Earth for as long as possible." The humanoid Celestial sits silently as his grin turns slowly into a trembling chuckle. Suddenly, he begins laughing hysterically at the sky. "Audacious! To think a lower being could be so audacious! Do you understand what Shiva is? Do you really expect me to influence the creator of everything? Audacious indeed!" "You are the topmost right hand of Shiva," I answer, not flinching at his display of mockery. "You should be able to figure something out." "Then, the more important question to ask," he growls, all signs of amusement gone from his wide-eyed, nearly murderous expression as he opens his arms wide. "Why would I take orders from you, whom I came here to devour? Because you showed me a bit of fun here? Because you managed something unprecedented by weaponizing the oxygen created from your trees to slow Shiva''s descent? Or because you are an anomaly who created a lower Celestial? Shiva is not interested in such trivialities, and neither am I!" "I will bring you all six of your own arms," I declare, staring him in the eyes with conviction as his raised arms threaten to strike like pythons. However, he freezes all movement at my words, his facial muscles tensing. "I will find the three you have not yet met, and assemble all six for you. I know from the Director''s memories that you want this. So, let''s make a deal." His expression loosens, and he slowly reforms his lifeless grin as his arms lower. "Very well. It seems that I could not rely on my counterpart to locate them all, but since it is you doing it¡­ I can agree to those terms." "Thank you for your graciousness." I offer him a short bow, before turning away. "Will you not be so audacious as to ask for a hand in fortifying this world while I am here?" he asks curiously. "No¡­ I trust Aku to handle things. It may take time, but he will tune this place, and help it recover from its wounds. Now, if you''ll excuse me, there is somewhere I need to be." "Very well," he says in a fading voice. After a moment, the white light that enveloped Aku washes over the pier with the waves, and captures me within it while I take one last look at the faded city beyond the shoreline. I wake to find myself back within Indra''s grasp. However, just as my projected form begins to fade to nothing, the massive hand throws me downward. Like a comet I fall straight through the dome of ice just as it melts to vapor, and crash into my real body, throwing it onto the multicolored grass. From my back I watch as the monumental body of Shiva ascends into the atmosphere, shrinking away until the twilit sky is left with but a few clouds. Without any sign of lava, ice, lightning, or wind, we sit in silence atop the flat-topped, sky-high tree. "You did it," Mary mutters weakly from behind me where she sits on her knees in the still grass, her glazed eyes meeting mine with disbelief and longing. In her arms lies the weakened figure of Mirei, coughing blood as she wipes the sweat and hair from her forehead, before shielding her eyes to watch the sun¡¯s rays shine through the remaining clouds. "It''s really¡­ over," the frail girl whispers, lips trembling as tears well in her eyes. "But, we did it together, Mary." "Yeah," she responds, managing a pained grin. "But JC¡­ what was your answer?" Her smile fades as she turns her expectant gaze back to me. "I¡­" Unable to look her in the eyes, I stand to my feet and watch as the sun¡¯s rays seem to multiply and flicker like spotlights around us, the horizon glowing bright purple and orange as it turns to dusk. "I¡¯m going back alone." "Right¡­" Mary mutters, almost lifelessly. "That''s what this whole thing was for, after all. I understand now, so don''t worry. Just don''t forget we existed, okay?" "Wait, Mary," Mirei says, lifting herself from Mary''s arms to her feet. "There''s more, isn''t there?" "Yes," I mutter, looking back at them with a soft smile. "I decided I don''t need Aku''s powers, so he''s going to stay and maintain this world. You two are strong enough to stay alive here, aren''t you?" Mary stands to her feet alongside Mirei, and the two stare at me in complete shock, not moving a muscle. "W-why?" Mary mutters, her hoarse voice hardly reaching me. "How could you not need him?" "No¡­" Mirei replies, her eyes growing wide. "All along¡­ this really was your plan. You had it hidden deep inside your heart, from the last failed iteration. It grew stronger as it came closer to your turn, which is why I felt it so strongly. After you regained and expended your tuning ability, you finally recovered that memory in full, right?" Surprised by her deduction, I merely nod my head. "It was a gamble, though," she continues, gazing sternly at me. "You didn''t know what you would do to prevent the destruction of the real world, but you knew from Aku''s memories in the last showing that the answer was in the Director''s memories." "That''s right," I mutter, nodding in confirmation once more. "I won because I finally became strong enough to figure out how to end the cycle. And that was through trusting you two, believing in your strength even without my plan. I may have cheated a bit by hiding my plan within the tuning ability in order to gain your trust, though." "You earned my trust fairly," Mary mutters, her eyes flickering as she looks away with reddened cheeks. "Like I told you earlier, the same goes for me, strangely enough," Mirei adds with a weak giggle. "Really?" I whisper to myself, gazing at my empty hands. Taking a deep breath, I close them gently as if holding onto something delicate. "I''m glad I have that, at least." "And you did all that to save us, since we couldn''t be saved in the real world," Mirei continues, her voice trembling. "Or, even if it wasn''t all for us, we¡¯re being saved, regardless." "You both became strong enough to save yourselves," I respond, offering my sincerest smile. Unable to hold back, she begins sobbing. Mary, who moves quickly to console her, begins to weep involuntarily as well as the two hold each other. Suddenly, a loud rattling sound fills the air, followed by a rhythmic puffing. A billow of steam rises from beneath us, overtaking the sun¡¯s rays. A moment later, the sound of compressed air being released takes the place of the rattling, and a black steel train appears before us, wrapping around the tree-top island as if it had climbed some invisible tracks. "It looks like Aku has come for you," I declare, smiling softly. The girls stare in awe as the passenger door slides open on its own, revealing a small, dimly lit compartment. I rush over to the single-step entrance and hold out of my hand. "Well¡­ shall we take one last ride together?¡± Wiping their eyes dry, the girls hesitantly approach the train. Mary first steps forward, blinking nervously at me before grabbing my hand and stepping into the compartment. Mirei follows, offering me a weak smile. I step inside, and the door closes behind me. The girls sit in the lone seat of the small leather booth with a plain black wall and a small window. There are no decorations on the steel walls, and no fireplace. Only the seat, the window, and the door which I lean against. The train begins rattling once more as it descends from the sky. The girls gaze out the window at the sparkling sun¡¯s rays cast upon the forested city, some of its buildings still smoldering. "How are we going to rebuild the city?" Mirei asks in a whisper, staring intently at the ruined metropolis. "Rather, the world?" "That''s up to the three of you, now," I respond, craning my head toward the head of the train. "Working with Aku, huh," Mary mutters, shifting in her seat closest to where I stand. "It¡¯ll be a new beginning for him, too." "Yes, I''m leaving him in your care,¡± I reply with a smile. "Please be sure to give him a haircut, for me." "What is he, our child?" Mary quips, raising a brow at me before turning white. Having processed her own words, she quickly averts her gaze, hiding her expression from me. "So, you saw that part of my last dream, too?" I ask in a modest voice, scratching my head awkwardly. "Yeah," she mutters under her breath, her cheeks reddening. "Well, I suppose I''ll just jump out, then," I declare in a gimmicky tone, throwing the door open and letting a strong wind swarm me. "Hey, aren''t you taking your embarrassment a bit far?" Mary shouts, regarding me with desperate eyes. "You''re going, aren''t you?" Mirei cuts in softly, gazing out the window as the scenery changes to a vast ocean. "Yes," I answer with a smile. "This is actually the only way I can return, since I won''t be using Aku''s power to transfer my consciousness back. "Are you sure that will work, though?" Mirei asks, her eyes still glued to the window. "Not completely, but in theory, it should trigger a response from my real body, making me wake," I answer as I step down and lett the wind hit my back. "You don''t sound all that confident," Mary jabs suspiciously, her expression growing more conflicted by the second. "By the way, Mirei, are you feeling a crushing impulse to sleep?¡± "Yeah," she answers, still looking out the window. "I suppose it''s the stress on our hearts and bodies catching up to us, right?" "You did undergo major surgery earlier," I reply with a smirk. "You''re lucky this is still a dream world. It may be hard on your bodies going forward, but I know now that you''ll keep that same strength you''ve shown, through tomorrow and far beyond." "That reminds me," Mirie remarks, her voice quivering as she finally turns her head to reveal teary eyes. "You''ve made us hurt quite a bit, JC, so before you go, I want to hurt you some." My smirk fading, I nod at her to continue. "I''ll make sure to keep playing my music, because you made me feel like I was living for something with your messages of support. So, will you continue to support me?" I nod, my mouth forming a pained grimace. "Of course, I will. I will always be your biggest supporter. Thank you for giving me purpose, as well." "What a shame," Mary exclaims, working up enough courage to smirk despite her conflicted expression. "You have these two beautiful women you''ve spent so much time wooing, and you''re throwing it all away to go be around a bunch of old guys. To think, you could have had all your wildest dreams come true." "That''s just cruel," I chuckle, unable to look her in the eyes. "Fate is cruel, after all," Mirei whispers through trembling lips before resting her head on Mary''s shoulder. Her eyelids slowly droop shut, her breaths repeating a gentle rhythm. Mary follows, nestling her head on top of Mirei''s. As her eyelids grow heavy, she offers me one last glance. "I guess this is goodbye, for the last time," she mutters, her expression so vulnerable it brings me an indescribable heartache. I find myself unable to speak, so, instead, I steal her gaze for just a moment longer. Finally, sensing her body is at its limit, I bite my lip and turn to the open air. "I''m glad we could be together for so long. Goodbye, for the last time." The moment her eyes close, a lone tear escapes. I take in one last glimpse of their beautiful sleeping faces as I step off the train, and take a great fall. Wind pushes and pulls me from all sides as I''m thrown toward the ocean far below. My eyes close instinctively, but can''t stop the tears from pouring out. "I want to stay together," I mutter to myself as I continue falling for what seems like an eternity. "I want to stay with you." The fear of falling and being crushed overflows, but is rivaled by that desire. "I want to stay with you both¡­" I raise my gently clenched fists to my face, and through my closed eyes I make out their bright outline, looking as if they''re holding some great light within them. "...but it¡¯s time for me to wake from this long, long dream." And so, before the light I¡¯ve managed to catch may burn out, I open my eyes, and wake to another world. last stop;epilogue An endless string of memories fills my head as my eyes snap open. Countless images of my repeated worlds are forcibly processed all at once; far different than in the deep dream world. I have woken to my true self. My consciousness has shifted back to its original owner, the body that was born and raised in this world. Without any of the props the dreamworld may have granted, I receive these memories simply as a human. My brain convulses, sending my entire body into shock as I attempt to restrain my mental faculties. However, the endless depth of information proves too much, and everything breaks. Without disconnecting the many medical articles applied to my body, I thrash violently, falling out of my theater-style chair and crashing onto the cold tile in a dark room. My mind replays a barrage of images of the girls crying, smiling, and dying. In addition, I recall countless images of the world ending. My stomach rejects the onslaught, and I vomit acid onto the floor. My eyesight goes blurry, my chest squeezes my heart like a vice grip, and my hands and arms shake furiously. A machine is making a loud beeping sound, but I can''t even make out its pattern. The sound of my own accelerated heart beat overrides everything, and makes my entire body quake. In between expulsions, my voice cracks with shrill cries. Before long, several white coats burst into the room, one of them restraining me while the other jabs a needle into my chest. With one last gasp, my consciousness cuts out. I wake again to find myself in a different room. The white walls and bright fluorescent lights burn my newly opened eyes, a sharp pain assaulting my head. I move to shield my eyes with my hands, but find something restricting their movement. I force my eyes open again, and discover handcuffs latching my wrists to the bedrails of a white hospital recliner. I kick my feet, only to find the same problem. Fear overtakes me, and I thrash about to no avail, unable to form a coherent thought. "JC, you have to regain your wits," a man calls from the closed door. "Otherwise, you will not ever be able to leave this place." I recognize the voice as the man who once counseled me before I began the dreamscape project. "Doctor¡­ what''s happened to me?" I ask in a meek mumble, my heartbeat beginning to slow down as a fog fills my head. "It appears you''ve undergone a great shock," he calmly answers, bringing a small stool in front of me and sitting down, revealing his clean-shaven face and white hair. "During your work, your brain was forced to endure a non-physical trauma that has effectively crippled it. The Director is not allowing anyone access to your memories, so we only have normal neurology to resort to. Fortunately, a brain scan showed no abnormalities, so we believe you have simply experienced a trauma so extreme it has forced you to reboot your own mental faculties, so to speak. Do you understand what I mean?" "I understand," I answer in a grainy voice. "I''m sedated, aren''t I?" "Yes," he says with a polite nod, "To keep you from destroying another room." I survey the plain white room, which houses nothing but medical equipment and several monitoring machines. "What do I need to do to get out of here?" "Just show that you can behave normally without any medication," he answers with a smile. "I believe the Director wants to question you the moment you have been declared fit to return to work. Of course, you may take some time off before returning." "What about the girls?" I ask, my face sinking. "It seems their bodies will pass very soon," he answers, lowering his gaze. "Right around the time you returned, their conditions took a turn for the worse. It''s been three days, but it seems their comatose state is going to be impossible to maintain for much longer. I suggest you regain yourself within a week if you want to say goodbye." Unable to muster a response, I simply nod. "Well, I''d like to talk about your head, if you can," he continues, scooting his stool closer to me before beginning a monotonous line of questioning. Wishing I could switch places with someone, I tune him out, and fall asleep. To my dismay, however, I go no further than a light sleep devoid of any dream, before waking. The doctor is gone, and I''m left alone in the bright room. The brief respite my half-sleep brought is crushed to bits when my memories materialize and remind me of reality. Instead of thrashing, this time my body simply falls limp as tears glide down my jawline. Several different white coats enter the room, run several tests, and leave without any interaction with me. After hours alone, I wake from another half-sleep without a dream. The sedative has worn off, and my body regains enough energy to match the emotions flaring up inside me. I begin smashing my fists into the bed rails, bending them but failing to break them. My silent tears, which seemed to have never ended throughout my sleep, turn to violent hysterics as my mind replays the bittersweet expressions they made before I disembarked from the train. Nobody comes, and eventually my fit loses steam, and I fall into yet another half-sleep devoid of dreams. Hours later, the therapist returns, and continues his familiar line of questioning before departing, leaving me no different. Hours pass the same as the previous ones, and as my breaths grow weaker with each hour, days eventually pass by. Without any knowledge of the time of day, or what it looks like outside, I begin to lose my grasp on the notion of time itself. The more I breathe, the more time passes. That is all my mind has left. For if I move a muscle, think about hunger or thirst, or desire anything, I will remember the dear pieces of my heart that I''ve lost. Once more, the therapist intrudes my endless cycle of breathing for the sake of passing time. With a grim look on his face, he stands in front of me so that I cannot look away from him. The lights in the room seem brighter than ever as he opens his mouth, professing something I can no longer comprehend. That is, until he says their names. "Mary Reid and Mirei Shibutani have been declared deceased. Now, I do not think you are ready to leave this room, but the Director has requested you come to identify their bodies and see them off. Your medicine will have worn off by now, so I will ask that you maintain control to the best of your ability. Can you do that?" "Yes." Having uttered the first sound in days, I allow the man to undo my restraints, and follow him out of the room without assistance. Everything feels numb, but I¡¯m compelled to move by the thought of seeing them at last. The dull white walls of the lab lead us to a door that haunts my memory. The man leading me opens it, and stands aside. I enter the dimly lit room, and my ears are instantly assaulted by the sound of wailing. Two men stand at each of the beds, bawling hysterically over the pale figures adorning the beds like two works of angelic art. One of them, whose overpowering cries triggers a childhood memory, looks up at me in abject terror. "JC!" he cries, his hands shaking. "I thought I had been prepared for this, but I never could have been!" The tears pour from the man''s gruff face onto the bed, and onto the girl whose shaggy black hair is shorter than I remember. Upon seeing her captivating pale face, my breathing stops. I turn to the other bed, where a man in an expensive suit is silently weeping over the girl whose pale-pink hair perfectly matches her nearly fluorescent skin. "Is she truly gone from this world?" the thin man bemoans, clutching onto her white hands which lay crossed at the end of her disheveled curls. "JC, you''ve been working hard for them, haven''t you?" Kaspar says, unable to control his whimpers. "Even though you told me it was over, you were still trying. So, tell me- is my girl really gone?" "Yes," I answer without hesitation as the numbness is washed away by a rising fire in my chest. "They are gone from this world." "This world¡­?" the Shibutani head mutters, finally regarding me with sullen eyes. "They have passed in this world, but they exist in the other world." "What other world, JC?" Kaspar pleas as they both look at me with desperate eyes. "The world of my dreams," I respond, letting my breathing resume like normal. "It may be hard for you to believe, but the world in my dreams is real. And not only do they live within it, but they are consciously living. They¡¯re feeling, hurting, crying, smiling, and loving. I¡¯ve seen it myself, and I may be able to see it again; and show you both." Their eyes grow wider as they hang onto my words. "However, that world is immeasurably far from us, now," I continue, looking them in the eyes. "Before we talk about that, it is important to accept that they truly are gone from this world." Their eyes sink in unison, and they return to the bedsides of their daughters, silently weeping over them. "This is all my fault," the Shibutani head mumbles, holding his head down in a bow before beholding Kaspar with a pitiful look. "You have every right to kill me right here. I''m sure the young man will protect you. So, go ahead." "I don''t blame you," Kaspar mutters, smiling weakly over chattered teeth, tears streaming down his cheeks into his grizzly beard. "I can''t say I would¡¯ve acted differently in your position. Besides, you''re suffering worse than any retribution I could imagine." "I see," the polite man responds, sitting down next to his daughter and silently laying his head next to hers. "JC, can you tell us more about this other world?" Kaspar asks, sniffling as he strokes Mary''s slender arm. "I will," I answer with a nod, maintaining my posture. "I¡¯ll explain more, later. For, now, I just want you both to take solace in knowing that they live." "Thank you, JC," he says through whimpers, holding her hand tight. "You kept your word¡­ thank you." "It was for my own selfish wishes," I mutter in response, offering him a pitiful smile. "How can you show us?" the Shibutani head inquires, the energy in his voice returning slightly. "Your memories?" "That''s right," I reply with a nod. "If I can, I¡¯ll show you the parts of my memory that include them in that world. Of course, you''ll need to be connected to our equipment here. Which means you will have to sign a contract with Worldbeaters." "I already have one," the Shibutani head answers. "But I will amend it to state my intent to work with you. As a test subject, or whatever is necessary." "Please, let me do the same," Kaspar pleas, his eyes welling up with another wave of tears. ¡°I¡¯ll work on that. In exchange, I want you two to assist me in finding three people. I don¡¯t know their identity yet, but I am confident we can find them together." "You will have every resource the Shibutani Group holds at your disposal," the polite man declares. "And I¡¯ll do whatever I can," Kaspar adds, closing his eyes in solemn solace. "Then, I will let you say your final goodbyes," I state without any trace of emotion as I turn my back on them. "Wait, JC," Kaspar cries. "Didn''t you come to do the same? This must be very hard for you, too. I can see it in your face- you''ve gone through hell. So, go ahead- it''s okay to bare your heart here." "It''s okay," I answer, shooting him a meaningful smile as I continue toward the door. "I''ve said my goodbyes. They already know how I feel." My hand grips the door-handle firmly, and, with a deep breath, I open it. Stopping, I turn my head in their direction once more as they both nod at me while clutching their daughters'' hands, tears silently streaming down their faces. "I hope you''ll show that same strength tomorrow. You have a reason for living, after all." Without waiting for their reactions, I let the door shut behind me. My clenched right hand opens, revealing small wounds lined with smeared blood across my palm. "You''re finally back." Instinctively hiding my bleeding palm, I look up at the bearded, bespectacled man whose body I once died in. "Mathias," I mutter, surprised to see him instead of the doctor waiting for me. "Yes, it''s me," he replies, smiling as he smacks my shoulder with a firm hand. "I was told to come retrieve you, as long as you feel ready. So¡­ are you?" "I am," I answer with a smile of my own. "You''re sure?" he asks, his hand tightly gripping on my shoulder. "You''ve been through a lot. These things take time to remedy¡­ it''s okay if you can''t go back to a normal life yet." "I want to," I respond swiftly and determinedly. "That''s all that matters, right? I¡¯ll manage my personal troubles." "Right," he says, releasing a chuckle as his grip loosens. "That¡¯s just like you. Just do me a favor- try to rely on others once in a while, okay?"The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I glance down at my bleeding palm, and then at my shirt sleeve, still wet with Kaspar''s tears, and finally at the hand on my shoulder. "I can try that," I exclaim, smiling as I reach my bloodied hand out. Without hesitation, he takes it, grinning back at me. After a moment, we separate, and Mathais adjusts his glasses before ushering me down the hallway. "Why don''t you wash up and change?" he says, smiling as he gestures to the nearest door. I enter the vacant restroom alone, and survey my pathetic figure. My white button-down and black slacks are worn down, and too loose for my malnourished figure. My thin face has grown a faint beard, and my hair is almost as long as it was in my teenage years. My hands move on their own, finding a razor blade and scissors left in a basket for me. After grooming myself, I take a hot shower and change into the clothes left for me. The smaller black suit fits me better than what I''d been wearing, which gives me the confidence to stand up straight as I stare blankly into the mirror. After brushing my teeth all that¡¯s left is to use product to slick my trimmed hair back, before stepping into brand new black dress shoes and returning to the hallway. Mathais greets me with a smile, and proceeds down the hallway. I follow him to a familiar door, and go in alone. The small, white-walled room decorated with several processing machines feels barer than ever, down to the lone metal chair in the middle that seats a lanky blond man with cold black eyes. "I have been awaiting you for some time," the Director calls in a smooth voice as the door shuts behind me, leaving the two of us alone. "It''s been a while, Director Ivanov," I respond, forcing his brow to wrinkle before he can catch himself. "It seems our operation ended up failing in several ways," he says, standing to his feet and relaxing his facial expression. "It is regretful that your mind collapsed as a result, but it seems there is no reason to carry on any further pretense." "I would like to get to my report, as well," I answer, standing up straight opposite him. "I''ve been waiting a very long time for this result," he says, crossing his arms as he smirks. "Aku no longer exists. The girls have died. It¡¯s been six months, yet Shiva has not come. And only you have returned from the dreamscape, yet it seems you''ve not obtained a trace of Aku''s power. So please, go on; tell me what happened in that world." "I guided the girls to the ending I sought," I recall confidently, "and had them help me overcome what I struggled against for so long. I discovered the root of my dream, and forced Aku to submit to my will. However, I decided that his power alone would not be enough to protect this world from Shiva. I decided to return alone, severing my connection with Aku and ending the cycle of repeating these worlds to avoid the inevitable destruction." "And? Surely you would not return empty-handed, having erased Aku, our only fallback measure. You must have found something better. Which is why Shiva has not come. But, what?" "The highest of Shiva''s six arms, Indra," I declare stoically. His facial expression loses all facade for a moment, sinking to a shudder. "We will use his power instead," I continue. "I''ve made a deal with him, which will not only hold off Shiva''s assault, but will lure Indra here alone. When that happens, we will receive him like you received Aku. From there, we will use him, along with our technology, to turn the tables on Shiva." "And how do you propose we lure him here? What deal did you make?" "We find the other three arms, and gather them- along with you and my parents." "So, you do know everything?" he asks, a shadow cast over his calm face. "Could it be that you broke protocol and saw my memories?" "I''m not sure it could be considered breaking protocol, especially with the meddling you did,¡± I answer unflinchingly. ¡°I¡¯ll just say that you had no better option than to tell me everything. After all, it serves both of our interests." "I suppose there''s no way I¡¯ll ever find out any different, is there?" he says, his eyes narrowing upon me. "Since you effectively destroyed all evidence of your actions in that world. I have no choice to take your word, then. Like you aptly put, it serves us both. This world has never lived to see this new year, after all. What happens next is beyond anything Laplace can predict. Already, things are happening around the world that we have not foreseen. Besides small events, it''s not predicted much of anything." "That¡¯s what you wanted, isn''t it?" I ask, my eyes glued to his. "A world you haven''t experienced yet." "Yes, it is very freeing," he answers with a slight smile. "Whatever your methods, I am satisfied with the result. As a matter of fact," his voice trails off as he turns his back, taking several steps before stopping to face the inoperative processing machine''s speaker. "Since things have taken such a turn, I think I will use this opportunity to find my own change of scenery. You see, in these six months I¡¯ve taken ownership of the entire World Neuroscience Institute. I¡¯ve put off visiting the other locations while awaiting your return, but now I can travel without worry." "Why?" I mutter, raising my brow at him. "Now that you have returned, even powerless, I can leave this place in your hands," he says, facing me with a stern expression. "You don''t mean¡­" I mutter slowly, unable to stop my jaw from falling. "That is, as long as you will be mentally fit to handle such responsibility," he says, narrowing his gaze on me once more. "You''ve had a trying week, after all. It does not take an expert to see that you are not yet out of the woods." "My mind¡­" I mutter, looking down for a moment. A glance at my wounded hand draws a slow breath from my lips, and I calmly bring my gaze back to him. "I was deeply affected by the psychological provocations of the experiment," I declare without hesitation. " Now that it¡¯s over, I just need a bit more time to recuperate. My mind¡­ is wounded, but it is no longer broken. Therefore, I can and will accept all responsibility for this facility. So please, feel confident in leaving it in my hands." "A satisfactory response," he says, chuckling out of his nose. "You have certainly grown in spite of your wounds." "It''s because of them, sir," I respond with a weak smile. "Very well," he mutters, turning his head back toward the empty machine. "I look forward to hearing your reports in regards to Indra. Just keep in mind that I''ve put you in this position, and be sure not to do anything that would force me to remove you from it. After all, I will know if you break protocol in this world." "Understood, sir," I answer, bowing my head. "I will keep your interest at heart. We have always been on similar wavelengths, after all." "Is that so?" he mumbles, not waiting for a response. "Ah, right. Now that you are Director- would you like to see your parents?" "That¡¯s where I plan on going next," I respond, raising my head as I take a deep breath. "I¡¯ll be going, then." "Certainly," he says in a monotone voice. "When you are ready to return to work, you will be given all the necessary resources. I expect to hear from you soon." "And you will," I say with certainty as I turn and make for the door. "Farewell, Director." I exit the room, and find Mathais waiting patiently. With a short nod, I proceed down the hall toward a room I''ve never seen in this world, my chest aflutter. With a deep breath, I open the door to a scarcely lit room, where several monitors on opposite-facing desks cast a white glow on two faces. The middle-aged man and woman turn their weary-looking faces to me, which slowly transform into shocked expressions. "Jean?" says the captivated woman, who, despite her time-worn features, remains as pretty as I remember. Her hair, while shorter, even retains its pure black hue. "It''s really you," the bespectacled man mutters, his thinned hair glowing white with the light of the monitor. "We did not expect you to come and see us." "My Jean¡­" the woman cries, standing and approaching me with a look of desperation. "I go by JC now," I mutter, gazing blankly at her. "That''s not¡­ after me?" she mutters slowly, her eyes wide. "No," I answer, shaking my head. "Well, maybe at first. But now it stands for Jean-Cathal. That is the name given to me by the man who raised me." At my words, her expression sinks, and she moves her hand to her mouth as if she had just recalled something tragic. "That¡¯s only natural, isn''t it, Jean-Claude?" the man calmly says, remaining seated. "We are glad to hear that, JC. Thanks to that man, you have become a very fine man, yourself." "T-that''s right, we have no right," the woman adds, nodding her head fervently as if to match the man''s upright demeanor, despite fighting back tears. "Listen- there is nothing we can ever say to make up for our decision. But I am so sorry. We will forever be regretful for what we put you through. It must have been so hard." "Did you accomplish your dreams?" I ask coldly, eyeing them both without blinking. They receive my question with shocked pause, and look at each other before turning to me. "We lived the dream we sought, and found a way to fulfill the duty we held dear," she says, massaging her teetering voice to keep from bursting into tears. However, they come regardless. "But we already had our reason for living¡­ and we chose to lose you¡­ we chose wrong." Her expression crumples more with each muffled sob, tears streaming down her face. "It doesn''t matter what excuse we gave ourselves." "Excuse?" I ask, my expression as still and calm as ever. "What she¡¯s saying is¡­" the man continues calmly in her place, "the moment we were warned about the Colonel, we decided it would be best not to force you into a life on the run. We thought that whatever happened to you without us would have been better. We could not have expected what did happen. Regardless, our decision was selfish at its core. As was the life we had been living leading up to that day. There is no excuse for that, and what you had to experience." "I can appreciate the sentiment," I utter with a forced smile. "However, I¡¯ve wanted to tell you that I understand your decision. I really cannot blame you." "You mean that?" the woman cries, her expression regaining its desperation. "Does that mean you can forgive us? And let us back in your life?" "Sure," I reply, as calm as ever, bringing an elated look to her face. "But please, do not misunderstand," I continue, my lips pursing at the sight of her joy. "I haven¡¯t seen you as family in a very long time, and I don¡¯t currently intend to change that." Her expression sinks, and she trudges back into her seat, still hanging onto my words. "I understand your decision, because I feel a similar guilt. I chose to forsake the two most important people in my life. Like you said, I can offer logical reasons as to why I had to do what I did, but in the end, those are just excuses, and I made the choice that best served my interests¡­ and my sense of duty." "Much like us, indeed," the man replies with a weak smile. "Sure, you could say that," I answer. " I simply attribute it to human nature. We intrinsically seek something to live for, a dream worth striving for, a duty worth fulfilling. Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up with a different sense of duty, like the desire to start a family. So, I¡¯d take measures to grow stronger and become a man worthy of having a family to protect." "Well said," he responds with a smile as he stands to his feet, takes several steps and places a hand on the reeling woman''s shoulder. "You¡¯re much wiser than your parents, JC." "I appreciate the compliment," I say with a chuckle, my expression softening just slightly. "On that note, I wanted to inform you both that I will be serving as the new Director." "You will?" the man exclaims, his jaw falling open as the woman''s glossy eyes go wide. "Yes," I answer with a nod. "And as my first action, I am allowing you both to leave the lab freely." "What?" the woman stammers, seemingly on the verge of collapse. "You¡¯ve been here under the Director''s supervision for quite a long time, right?" I continue, unaffected by her trembling figure. "He and the organization have no further reason to keep you confined here. You will also no longer be using Laplace. However, I do want you to continue working here. I think you''ll find our next few projects quite fulfilling. What do you think?" "Of course," the woman cries, gripping her husband''s arm tightly as she combats her sobs. "Working for you will be our reason for living, Director," the man follows, wiping a lone tear from his cheek. "Great," I respond, smiling weakly as I make for the door. "Arrangements will be made for your citizenship and new residence." "Thank you," the woman sobs, her voice nearly incomprehensible. "One more thing," I add, just as I turn the door handle. "I said it was not my intention, but I will not deny the possibility of becoming a family once more, some day. It¡¯s just not something I can say I want right now. But I promised someone I would pursue my own happiness, and live a proper life. So, maybe one day¡­" A final glance finds them silently shedding tears, holding each other tightly and nodding as I shut the door behind me. Again, Matthias meets me with a polite smile in the otherwise unoccupied hallway. "Well, Director, would you like to head home for the day?" "I would, thank you," I answer with a nod. "I can show myself out. However, I do have a favor to ask of you, for when I return." "What is it?" he asks with a mixture of curiosity and formality. "I want you to prepare the PC Booster to be capable of transmitting one''s most recent memories into multiple subjects, so that they may immediately see the same things as the one experiencing them. That¡¯s within your capability, isn''t it?" "It certainly is," he answers with an excited grin and upbeat tone. "I will have that prepared for you, sir." "Thank you," I respond with a short nod. "Well, I¡¯ll take my leave now. So, until then." We both smile amicably before parting, and I pass through the hallway alone. I take the empty elevator down, and enter the lobby full of smiling faces I haven''t seen in so long. Many of them greet me in passing, but none attempt to stop me or hold a conversation. Thanks to this, I walk across the white tiles and pass through the revolving door, which goes dark before revealing the bright outside world. I take a step outside, beyond the front awning, and gaze upon the sky. The sun shines through patches of rain clouds, illuminating the nearly barren trees lining the street. The scent of rain pervades the cool autumn air, drawing me in to take a breath. I take a step onto the road, fallen leaves crunching under my shoe. "What brings you here all alone, young man?" a gruff voice calls from just down the road. I look up to see a tall man with a black beret and a smiling face clouded by cigarette smoke. "Not running away, are you?" he follows, removing the cigarette from his mouth and grinning wide, revealing his aged facial features. "For once, I¡¯m not," I answer, returning his smile. "It''s good to see you, Killian. You''ve been a great help to me, haven''t you?" "Yes, I''d say you owe me a drink," he says with a chortle. "Come, I''ll show you my favorite pub here, and I''ll tell you how the world has been these last six months." With a nod, I follow him down the road, and take in the picturesque autumn scenery of Shibuya. We pass through a residential sprawl, where several children pass us with carefree smiles. I allow myself to smile back naturally as we proceed into the heart of the city. The countless faces and voices inhabiting Shibuya Crossing threatens to freeze me solid for a moment, but I instead take a deep breath, and recognize that not a single person is eyeing me with suspicion. They all seek their own destination, uninterested in those around them. Still, many of them smile as they walk by, and without hesitation, I smile back. We sit down at the pub of Killian''s choosing, where he orders us straight whisky, and proceeds to fill me in on some of the things I¡¯d been wondering about. The bandit group, Ireland''s Finest, left the country several months back. The environmentalist group disbanded around the same time due to a false prophecy made by the professor regarding the end of the world. The Shibutani Group, however, has only grown in strength and influence. They''ve come to control nearly all the banks in Japan, and have become a major player in the economies of several national powers, sparking predictions of an inevitable conflict. I admit to him that while their clear thirst for power concerns me, their partnership is still indispensable to Worldbeaters, as is my partnership with Mirei''s father, the group''s head. Next, he tells me that Kaspar Reid often drinks with him at this pub, at which I laugh heartily as I finish my drink. Finally, he asks me if I had the chance to meet my parents. "I did, thanks to you," I tell him with a crooked smile. He doesn''t pry further, and instead orders us another round. We continue drinking, eating, and laughing into the night, catching up as old friends would, until he walks me to my small apartment and guides me, half-awake, to the couch where I fall asleep. Weeks later, I return to the room where the girls once were. I sit in a theater-style chair in the middle of the spot where their beds once were, with two seats on either side of me, occupied by their fathers. Killian stands behind us with calm interest, while Mathais stands behind a podium with various controls. "Check your connections one last time, please," he says, prompting us to fasten the heavy glasses, which branch into multiple cords connecting our temples with the loudly puffing processing machine. The three of us give a thumbs up, and the lights go off. Before long, sleep comes over me. When I come to, I find myself flying through the sky, over a vast ocean. My wings beat the air as fast as they can as I try to keep up with a small luxury cruise ship. Across the crushing wind in my way, on the ship''s upper deck, I see them at last. Mirei, garbed in a frilly sky-blue dress that perfectly suits her blonde curls, sits at an exquisite grandfather piano, playing with a content smile. Mary, whose shoulder-length black hair flows in unison with her white blouse and black pleated skirt, hangs over the deck''s railing with an empty wine glass and a carefree grin. Her grin turns into a playful smirk as she turns back to shout at someone. A boy on the other side of the deck trudges toward them, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and several meat-kabobs in the other, panting as if he¡¯d just climbed seven flights of stairs. His long hair is tied back, and his thin face bares more color than before. The boy shouts something back, finally giving up and rolling the bottle toward the railing before slumping to his hands and knees. Mirei, still playing, joins Mary in hearty laughter as the slender beauty lunges for the bottle while waving playfully at him. Finally, the brutal wind overtakes me, tearing my small body apart and pushing me away from the serene sight. However, as I begin to wake, I do not despair; because I know that, so long as I still dream, I can find them there, in a world where they may continue laughing, loving, and living with all their hearts.