Wind hissed through the cracks, making the documents rustle as if the archive itself was trembling.Ethan stared at the page on the desk, his eyes moving line by line, expression like he was reading a ridiculous recipe.
"Prophecy: When all human dreams are covered by one black net, the Great Nightmare shall descend. The boundary between waking and sleep will vanish, turning the world into one shared stage of nightmares."
He snorted."Shared? That sounds even fancier than 5G. What's next, monthly subscription fees for nightmare upgrades?"
Ryan leaned against a cabinet, dark circles thick as if he'd been pulling night shifts for seven years. He didn't smile."That's the true core of the Shadow Dossier. The Bureau doesn't want to protect humanity—they want to use the Great Nightmare to filter out 'usable humans.'"
Ethan raised a brow. "So, global job interview? The test question: 'If you meet a monster in your dream telling political jokes, do you A. vote for it, B. run away, C. join its party?'"
Ryan ignored him, flipping the page. A crude ink sketch showed a massive whirlpool, annotated with snarky notes:
"The Nightmare's mouth—swallows everyone who thinks they're awake.""The Nightmare's stomach—digests systems, nations, faiths.""The Nightmare's asshole—doesn't release gas, but a new world order."
Ethan almost spat out his tea."Who wrote this? The Director himself? Christ, the guy's a better poet than half the artists I know."
But then, the ink bled into new words:
"Prophecy date: Seven days."
Ryan's face collapsed. "It updates itself. Like real-time stock quotes. In seven days, the Nightmare will cover the continent."
Ethan chuckled again. "Seven days? What is this, a horror movie with a punctual schedule? Should we expect a countdown with background music too?"He mimicked an announcer: "Ladies and gentlemen, only six days and twenty-three hours until global nightmare activation. Please purchase your tickets in advance!"
His laughter echoed, but the air grew heavier.Ryan suddenly gripped Ethan's shoulder, voice low as a ghost story:"You know what the Great Nightmare is really for? Not to destroy humans, but to trap everyone in the same script. Every laugh, every scream, every rebellion becomes just another line in the dream. An eternal black comedy."
Ethan froze, imagining it:Seven billion people, actors and audience, locked into a stage with no exits.The sky painted with insomniac eyes, the floor padded with asylum mattresses, the soundtrack composed of alarm clocks ringing at dawn.Everyone sharing the same nightmare, still trying to comfort each other: "It's fine, just a dream."
"Eco-friendly, I'll give it that," Ethan muttered. "No lights, no food—just endless lying down. Only shortage would be bedsheets big enough."
Ryan didn't laugh. His eyes were darker than the shadows."You think I'm joking? In seven days, it begins. And the dossier is clear: the Nightmare won't vanish. It only devours—until someone willingly ends themselves inside the dream."
Ethan's teeth went cold. "So… humanity's salvation comes down to some self-sacrificing hero? A dream-world reality show? Title: Who Wants to Be Humanity's Martyr?"
Ryan nodded, voice creaking like a rusty lock."The Bureau's already hunting for candidates. And you, Ethan—you know too much."
The air froze.Ethan laughed bitterly. "Ah, here we go. Classic script: hero's told the world's ending, and surprise! He's the final screw in the machine. Should I cry now or start drafting my will?"
The bulb flickered, like someone turning in their sleep. Pages flipped on their own, landing on the last sheet. One line stood alone:
"In seven days, nightmare and reality will be indistinguishable."
In the silence, Ethan's laughter cut sharper than glass."Well, at least that's more honest than the evening news."