One week had passed since Michael celebrated his birthday with Chihiro.
Throughout that week, the two of them enjoyed their fun time.
However, Chihiro now had to return abruptly to her home country, Italy, after receiving an important call from their son.
This necessity seemed likely to last for quite a while.
Michael understood Chihiro's situation, and he let his wife go.
Michael himself also had important matters he wanted to resolve without Chihiro's knowledge.
For the past week, whenever night fell and Michael slept, he frequently had strange dreams.
He met the Elf girl repeatedly, but the dreams weren't about their current encounters.
Instead, the dreams showed dark periods in that world.
Michael felt these dreams were so real—as if he himself originated from that world.
Michael felt familiar with the flashes of the past he experienced every night.
Every dream was different, like separate pieces of history.
Michael felt confused. He knew he wasn't from that world; he was raised in a church until he was 15.
His heart and mind were in turmoil, but he tried to convince himself that it was all just an illusion.
Michael suppressed all these events and feelings for a full week.
He hid his excessively anxious expression, and Chihiro never knew it.
Every night after dreaming, Michael went to the bathroom, washing his face repeatedly to maintain his sanity.
Now, with Chihiro gone, Michael no longer hid his downcast, anxious, and bewildered face.
His eyes couldn't focus, and his thoughts spun like a tangled thread going nowhere.
"What is happening to me?"
Michael squeezed his head hard, messing up his hair even more.
He sat on the sofa wearing only short pants.
His face was directed at the floor, his eyes looking weary and blackened around the edges.
Although the morning light was beginning to stream through the gaps in the curtains, Michael ignored it.
It seemed he hadn't slept all night since Chihiro left yesterday.
He stood up and walked to the sink again, washing his face while staring at his reflection in the mirror.
Michael was lost in thought as he looked at his weary eyes.
He remembered the events in the dream: that world was on the brink of collapse, with war happening everywhere.
He saw a man with horns and wings on his back, dressed like a king from the monster faction—the Demon King.
The man stood in front of an incredibly beautiful woman who was wielding a large sword.
Behind them, a war was raging, but the Demon King stood firm, then yelled while crying after seeing their people scattered dead alongside human corpses.
"I didn't want this, but why are the humans committing such heinous acts? If this continues, don't you think this bloodshed will be for nothing?"
The woman was wearing a robe and iron armor, clearly looking like the hero in the Light Novel Michael was reading.
The woman had long, tied-up hair with a fiery reddish color.
Purple blood dripped from her sword blade, as if she had just sliced down many of the Demon King's people.
The woman fell silent after hearing the Demon King, but the king behind her—the king of the human faction—disliked the silence.
The human king tried to provoke the hero of his faction.
"Hero, why are you standing still? Quickly finish off that Demon King! Don't you think if they roam free, they will ruin our race as humans? If we don't eradicate them, we will be the ones oppressed later!"
The human king sat on a large chair, looking cunning and arrogant.
His hatred for the monster race was so deep, visible in the gleam of his eyes.
The female hero thought hard.
She saw humans also scattered dead.
Monster blood and human blood pooled like rain that had ended.
'I am also extremely exhausted. It seems the Demon King hasn't revealed his full power. If this continues, it will also bring extinction to the human race,' she thought.
Sweat dripped from her temple, mixing with the splatter of monster blood on her face.
The female hero thought hard, while their king only remained silent as if enjoying the battle from a distance, eating grapes and drinking wine served by his attendants.
She gritted her jaw, closed her eyes, and calmed herself.
Then, the Demon King in front of her descended from the air, his feet landing on the ground.
He walked closer, trying to appeal to the female hero's sympathy.
"Hero, I am just tired of seeing this endless fighting from generation to generation. I only want peace to occur between the monster race and the human race. Wouldn't that be better than this?"
The female hero opened her eyes.
Her gaze was sharp as a razor.
She brandished her sword again, making the Demon King stop.
"Don't come closer!" she shouted cautiously.
The Demon King also didn't look well; his body was full of wounds, his wings were torn (though he could still fly), and one of his horns was broken, indicating a fierce battle against the female hero.
The Demon King fell silent, bowing his head and clenching both hands while looking at the pool of his people's blood.
The female hero, after thinking, plunged her sword into the ground.
She stood tall, both hands resting on the pommel of her sword.
Then she shouted loudly, a call that startled the human king through a long-distance magic device.
"All of you, stop! This fight has no end! This is not surrender, but for our survival and for the welfare of life!"
She called out to the soldiers who were fighting.
The soldiers stopped momentarily, turned toward the hero, listening to her call.
The Demon King, with a downcast expression, stared intently at the female hero in front of him.
Then he extended his hand.
"Did you finally hear it? I just want this to end, that's all. I don't want this kind of incident to repeat during my reign. I don't want to follow the path of my ancestors."
The monster race quickly retreated, standing behind the Demon King, maintaining their distance.
The monster race themselves seemed to genuinely want peace; they showed signs of brutal fighting, with many of their hands and legs severed.
The human race also suffered the same, but they merely followed the orders of their king and the hero as their general.
Then Michael snapped out of his reverie.
He washed his face again.
The sink water splashed irregularly, even splashing onto Michael's body.
Michael's breathing became heavy, as if he had just run a great distance.
Then he yelled while punching the bathroom mirror. Crack!
Glass shards scattered, and blood spattered from Michael's fist, which was sharply cut by the broken glass.
"Stop it, damn it! W-Why are you haunting me? It's just a dream, and I'm not from that world! Why do these dreams feel like my past?!"
Michael slowly backed away, then leaned against the wall, and sat down.
After that, he curled up while holding his head. He ignored the pain from the wound on his hand.
Soon, a voice echoed.
The voice did not come from the room, but seemed to originate from his heart, audible to Michael's ears.
"I told you when we first met, the world is just a game. Didn't you think that way back then?"
The woman's voice was full of provocation, whispering like an instigating demon.
Michael, hearing it, was shocked and terrified because his mental state was currently eroding.
"What do you want, damn it? What are you doing to me? Why are you terrorizing me?"
Then the voice echoed again.
"Haha!"
The laughter repeated.
Michael felt like he was being ignored.
He became angry, stood up, clenched his fist while looking around, then stared at the broken sink mirror.
"Get out, you bastards!"
Suddenly the laughing stopped, then she spoke softly.
"Don't be angry. I just want to tell you the continuation of the dream you experienced, and don't you realize there's something strange on your body?"
Michael felt confused, then he yelled again.
"What do you mean?!"
Then the echoing woman's voice answered him again.
"Look at your back. Isn't there a transparent symbol there?"
Michael, confused, felt like he was being played with.
He quickly walked out of the room toward his bedroom to see what the voice was referring to.
With every step, blood from his clenched right hand was still dripping onto the floor.
Then he kicked his bedroom door hard because he was so angry.
He narrowed his eyes, then turned around to look at his back in his bedroom mirror's reflection, searching for the symbol.
Then Michael was shocked when he saw it.
'What is this, was that woman right? And what does this mean?'
The symbol was indeed there, and he hadn't known about it all this time because the symbol was very transparent.
Because Michael's skin color was fair, the symbol was very hard to see.
And the symbol was an image of the sun and moon within a circle.