Night fell quickly in District 3.
The streets dimmed, even though the lights still burned. That's how it worked now. The darkness wasn't absence of light—it was the presence of something else.
Void energy.
Inside the agency, Hiragi stared at the blood-sealed letter. Still untouched.
Ishigami leaned against the doorway, sipping black coffee. "You haven't opened it."
Hiragi didn't turn. "Because once I do, this place might not be real anymore."
"...Fair."
Airi stepped in with a folder. "I ran a trace on Sera Natsume. Top of her class. Model student. No signs of delinquency. Then three nights ago, her parents say she started talking in her sleep."
"What did she say?"
Airi opened the folder, showing scribbled words written in charcoal.
"He's coming through the ink."
"I am not Sera."
"Stop writing. Stop dreaming. Stop me."
The Investigation Begins
Hiragi, Airi, and Ishigami arrived at the Natsume household at 11:11 PM.
The front door creaked open by itself.
"Unsealed," Hiragi muttered. "Whatever was here… already left."
Inside, the air was heavy—like walking through wet velvet. Every clock was frozen at the same time:
03:33 AM
"Witching hour," Ishigami said softly.
They found her bedroom undisturbed. Everything neatly in place—except for one wall, which had been painted entirely black. Not with ink. Not with paint. But something alive. Something moving.
A single phrase was scrawled on it in white:
"I LIVE IN HER SHADOW."
Airi shivered. "This is a dream gate."
"No," Hiragi corrected.
"This is the mouth of the dream."
Void Protocol Activated
Hiragi removed a small black orb from his pocket: a Void Anchor—a tool that stabilizes reality during dimensional shifts.
Snap—
He crushed it in his palm. Energy pulsed.
The wall blinked.
And in that instant—they were no longer in the bedroom.
Welcome to the Dream Layer
They stood in a replica of the house, except everything was inverted—upside down, colors warped, time broken. The only light came from floating letters, bleeding in the air.
"We're inside her subconscious," Hiragi said.
"But not her dream. This is someone else's domain."
A voice whispered from the mirror.
"Why did you read the letter?"
Suddenly, the mirror cracked.
A figure stepped out—not Sera.
A girl with Sera's face, but stitched lips, hollow eyes, and long, dragging fingers dipped in ink.
"I'm the draft they never erased