The world was… soft.
Too soft.
A breeze brushed past her cheek, cool and gentle. Trees rustled in the wind. Birds chirped faintly above, not distorted or corrupted like before—real, almost calming. There was grass under her shoes. A sidewalk. A school bell ringing.
Yara stood motionless.
The world had changed. Gone were the flickering lights of the underground base. Gone was the monster. The glitching reality. Even the stench of smoke had disappeared.
Now she was… here.
Back in uniform. A high school blazer—dark gray with a small, embroidered crest near the breast. A navy skirt. Long socks. The kind of outfit you wear when you're fifteen and the world hasn't tried to erase you yet.
She didn't remember putting it on.
This isn't real.
But the air felt real.
She turned her head. The school gates loomed behind her, tall and metallic, buzzing faintly with the chatter of other students. Girls in uniforms. Boys throwing backpacks over shoulders, laughing, joking. School clubs recruiting members under colorful banners. Music practice in the distance.
Someone bumped into her.
"Ah—sorry, Yara!" a cheerful voice rang.
Yara blinked.
The girl who ran past her looked familiar. Brown hair in twin tails. But the face blurred slightly, like an image not yet fully downloaded. It glitched just enough to feel off—but only if you were looking closely.
She looked around again.
And there—down the road, past the school gates.
A car waited.
Parked at the curb. Old. Slightly rusted on the edges. A model she couldn't name, but it felt familiar..? A woman stood beside it. Holding a purse. Wearing a cream blouse and skirt, sensible shoes. Hair tied back. She raised her hand to wave.
Next to her—taller. Broader shoulders. A man in a black polo and faded jeans. Holding the door open.
Blurred faces. Featureless. No eyes. No nose. But they turned to her all the same.
Waiting.
Her feet moved without her consent. Down the path. Step by step.
She felt the wind shift.
A scent—lavender? She didn't remember knowing what that smelled like. But it hit her, like a punch to the ribs. Her knees wobbled.
She didn't remember their names.
Her parents. That's who they were. She knew that. But she didn't remember names. Didn't remember voices. Just two silhouettes. Shapes. Memories she hadn't thought of in years—or decades, if time even mattered anymore.
Her mouth parted, but nothing came out.
She stood there.
They were waiting.
The illusion wanted her to go. To step inside. To go home.
"It's not real.."
She told herself.
But the words didn't feel convincing anymore.
The sun glinted off the car window, blinding her for a second. She covered her eyes—and in that moment, her thoughts scattered like shattered glass across concrete.
Rain fell.
Not in the world around her—but inside her head.
Sharp. Sudden. Like a memory slamming against the mind's wall.
And then…
The smile of her mother.
Or… not?
Did she smile like that?
She couldn't remember. Her thoughts were disintegrating. She clutched her head. Her breath shortened.
She staggered backward.
Students passed her by without noticing. None of them looked at her. Their faces were indistinct too. Just color and sound. Background noise.
A glitch in her chest pulsed.
She coughed. Her body shook.
"Get out of it.."
She told herself. But her hands trembled.
Something was keeping her here.
Her knees hit the ground.
She stared at her reflection in a puddle forming on the sidewalk.
Nightmare Zero stared back.
Her black uniform. Dead eyes. Gaunt cheeks. Lips pale. The version of herself that fought monsters, shot characters with no hesitation, tore entities apart without flinching. She looked like death incarnate.
And yet—this world saw her as a student. As someone normal. Someone with a family.
The rain intensified—in her mind only. The illusion warped, struggling to hold her. The sky flickered, glitching between dusk and morning light.
A tear ran down her cheek, mixing with the not-rain on her skin.
She bit her tongue.
Hard.
The metallic taste of blood hit her senses.
Her body recoiled.
The illusion shuddered.
The woman by the car raised her arm again. Waved slowly.
But this time… the gesture repeated.
And repeated.
And repeated.
The same motion.
On loop.
Glitching.
Like a corrupted animation file.
Yara's teeth clenched. She forced her limbs to move. Her head throbbed. Her muscles screamed like they were being rebooted after disuse.
She looked at the car again.
The doors no longer opened.
The faces—still blurred—flickered like television static. Lines tearing through them. Words whispered at the edge of hearing.
"You can stay here forever."
She shook her head violently.
"No."
More of her mind returned.
Her hand reached for something not in this world—a weight she remembered.
Her rifle.
It wasn't there, not physically. But she imagined it. The feel of it. The trigger. The recoil. The calm calculation that came with holding it. The control.
Control.
She stood up.
The high school gates behind her trembled.
The sky above fractured. Like glass cracking in slow motion.
The false world tried one last time. The breeze returned. The birds chirped louder. The sun warmed her skin.
But she didn't care.
Yara walked away from the car.
The woman and man never moved again.
As she stepped past the gates, the world collapsed behind her.
And her eyes opened—
Back in the corrupted zone. Back in the fractured, glitching structure. Back in the domain of the Narrator's illusions.
Yara inhaled sharply.
Eyes cold again. Focused.
No emotion.
No family.
No past.
Only the mission.
And the faint echo of a memory she no longer trusted.
But..
The fake sky collapsed.
Yara stepped forward, boots crunching glasslike fragments of the fabricated world beneath her feet. The school behind her split down the middle, bending unnaturally like torn paper folding in reverse. But she didn't flinch. The illusion had cracked — but it wasn't over.
Not yet.
As she crossed through the warped threshold, everything went black again — but only for a second.
Then, the light returned.
Warm. Golden.
She blinked.
This place… wasn't the school. It was—
A living room.
Bookshelves crammed with manga lined the walls. Figurines of characters from old fantasy and shounen series stood proudly on a display case near the window. A steaming cup of coffee rested on a low wooden table beside stacked volumes of some long-running series she vaguely remembered.
She was on a couch.
How…?
She turned her head slowly.
There they were.
Her mother and father.
Sitting on the floor across from her. Legs folded. Laughing.
Their faces were still slightly blurred—like before—but less so. Expressions were almost visible. The lines of her mother's face curved with a genuine smile. Her father's voice rumbled with casual warmth. The longer she stared, the more… solid they became. Like the illusion was testing how far it could go.
Yara's fists tightened at her sides.
She didn't trust it.
But her legs wouldn't move.
"Volume 27 is where it finally gets good, I swear," her father said, flipping open a well-worn volume. "That's when the pacing stops being a disaster and the main villain actually does something."
Her mother laughed. "You said that back in volume 12.. ***ru"
They turned to her. "Right, Yara?"
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Their voices were warm. Familiar. Too familiar. They were trying to drag her in again.
But she remembered what came before.
The monster. Angus. The base. The warping of reality.
The Narrator.
This was another cage. Different in shape, same intent.
She needed to escape.
Yet still…
She looked at the manga they were holding.
The cover was hand-drawn. Not digital. Inked roughly, but with care. A character on the cover looked like… her.
She stepped closer, unable to stop herself.
Her father grinned. "I used to read this with you every Sunday. Remember?"
Her mother nodded. "We'd sit right here. Just the three of us, right k***u?"
Yara felt a crack in her chest.
Something inside her trembled. She didn't know if it was truth… or if the illusion had just gotten better.
And then—
Silence.
Everything froze.
Her parents' mouths stopped moving mid-laugh. The pages of the manga no longer fluttered. The faint hum of the fridge cut out. The flicker of the ceiling light stilled.
The second hand of the wall clock froze in place.
Time stopped.
Even the air held its breath.
Yara turned her head.
The warmth vanished.
From the corner of the room, something shifted.
A voice.
Soft at first.
Feminine. Echoing through the walls like a dream barely remembered.
"We'll meet again... don't know where, don't know when..."
Yara's blood ran cold.
She didn't move.
"But I know we'll meet again some sunny day…"
The song drifted around her like fog, thick and nostalgic in a way that hurt.
No body.
No face.
But the Narrator was here.
Somewhere in the walls. In the furniture. In the illusion itself.
Its presence seeped into the corners like oil in water.
Yara gritted her teeth.
The voice hummed.
"Keep smiling through, just like you always do…"
The manga pages began turning by themselves. Her father's body twitched unnaturally. Her mother's head jerked slightly, mechanical and cold, like a puppet's final glitch before breaking.
Yara stared straight forward.
Unblinking.
"'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away…"
The walls began to melt.
Books ran like ink down the shelves. The ceiling cracked. The lights dimmed. The faces of her parents became blank again—hollow shapes of flesh and memory.
Yara inhaled once.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then—she stood up.
The couch dissolved beneath her.
She stepped through the melting carpet. Through the room turning into static.
"So will you please say hello, to the folks that I know…"
The Narrator's voice floated higher, almost gleeful now.
"Tell them I won't be long…"
Yara didn't respond.
She reached down, imagining her rifle again—gripping phantom metal.
Her eyes locked onto the source of the sound. There was no form, but the walls pulsed in rhythm with the voice. A heartbeat of madness.
"They'll be happy to know, that as you saw me go…"
Cracks exploded through the illusion.
The sky above the living room splintered like a mirror.
Firelight from a different world bled through.
Yara raised the invisible rifle.
"I was singing this song…"
The world around her collapsed in a cyclone of shattered glass, pixels, and half-formed memories.
The voice followed her.
One last whisper—gentle, almost maternal.
"We'll meet again…"
She fell through the void.
"Don't know where… don't know when…"
Darkness swallowed her again.
"But I know we'll meet again… some sunny day…"