Then another dream came. Snehwal found himself standing deep, deep inside a mysterious, supernatural forest that seemed to whisper quietly. A soft, glowing light spread through the air, mixed with the sweet scent of blooming lotus flowers. Small pink glowing branches were scattered along the path, as if calling him to come closer with every step. Snehwal looked around and said, "Where am I?"
And there—right in front of him—stood his beloved Lily. Her long black hair flowed like night silk, and her white dress floated in the air like mist. When she turned toward him, her smile cut through the darkness—a gentle light that went straight into his heart. In the distance, a waterfall roared, its drops shining like light green sheets; the pool seemed to invite them closer, as if time and space had paused. Forgetting everything else, Snehwal ran forward joyfully—"Lily, it's you!"
Snehwal's heart was racing. He stepped closer, helpless before the invisible pull. "Lily," he whispered; his voice echoed sweetly among the leaves. Hands reached out, fingers touched, and they began to dance slowly in the embrace of the dream—among the glowing lotus petals, their laughter mixing with the music of the forest. His breath was warm on her skin; their lips were just inches apart—a promise of a kiss hanging in the air like a dewdrop.
But that delicate moment suddenly turned into a terrible nightmare. From the canopy above, dark shapes appeared—monsters made of black smoke, their forms shifting like clouds. Their eyes glowed red, filled with cold malice. They came in packs, their shadowy ropes whipping like lashes.
Lily screamed. One monster grabbed her arm tightly; its touch burned like acid, trying to pull her away. Another circled her, aiming to swallow her light.
"No!" Snehwal shouted. His dream-self moved forward—he ran along the rocky path, avoiding the lotus flowers, which now seemed to wither under the growing darkness.
Suddenly, a power shone in his hands—perhaps a gift from the dream, or his own desperation manifesting as supernatural green energy. He threw green energy spheres at the nearest monster. It screamed and vanished into the mist, but more ghostly figures emerged from the waterfall.
Then the dream broke. Snehwal sat up, soaked in sweat. Beside him, Lily was sleeping peacefully—completely safe, as if the world's chaos was far away. Snehwal's eyes were wet with sweat, but seeing Lily safe next to him filled his chest with a strange warmth. He resolved, "I will never let this happen."
He quickly ran his hand over her head, got up from the bed, and stepped outside. The Inferna city was sleeping—a mix of calm and darkness—as if everything was still waiting. But in Snehwal's mind, a sharp, cold truth had settled. He said to himself, "I will definitely find a dead body."
But he had forgotten how dangerous it was to go out alone. He started moving toward the nearby cemetery, cutting through the darkness. The cold silence of the cemetery and the deep shadows around it surrounded him. His foolishness was such that he asked the two figures standing outside the cemetery, "Has anyone been buried here recently?"
The two figures were completely covered in black robes. Their faces were invisible, as if some secret had locked them in.
Then a voice rang out—soft, light, and like a girl's—"Yes, what do you want?"
"Have you come to place flowers on your girlfriend?"
Snehwal was shocked—"A girl!"
Then he turned to the other and asked, "And you?"
The second voice was also like a girl's—soft but sharp—"Sir, you are very simple. Consider us your new girlfriends, the night is lovely."
A soft breeze carried laughter, and it seemed to grip him—a strange, amusing power.
"Write, let's make a fun story."
Snehwal pushed her away.
The figure growled angrily—
"My insult, my fragrance is enough to drive you mad. How are you not under my control?"
Snehwal hissed, "Bitch, control your tongue, aren't you ashamed?"
Suddenly he realized that here, only the powerful ruled. He froze, a chill running through his entire body. He muttered to himself—"I'm trapped now…"
The cold winds of the cemetery shook his soul. The darkness deepened, the voices were soft but terrifying, and every breath of his was now caught between fear and suspense.
Thunder rumbled across the sky, and Snehwal shivered at the sound. Standing before him was that figure. Both held swords in their hands, yet their voices were so soft and enchanting that no one could have guessed, looking at their forms, how beautiful they would be.
Then the figures slowly removed their robes and...