Before Shauwn's discussion with the institute's steward, it had been arranged that he would take a night bus, with a driver who answered directly to the supervisor.
He didn't have much with him, so he quickly stopped by the local convenience store to pick up what he needed: two cans of soda and a brunch pack. Then he headed toward the cemetery.
The resting place of the dead was quiet and cold—not as welcoming as a park, but a place for reflection. Shauwn walked among countless tombstones until he stopped at the one he sought. It read: Ivy MILLERS.
He crouched to be at the same level as the grave and took out what he had bought. He opened both cans—one placed on the tomb, the other consumed himself. Then came the brunch, from which he tore off a small portion of the wrapper and placed it beside the grave. Finally, a small surprise: four incense sticks. He lit them, waved them gently, and set them on either side of the stone.
He hadn't planned to buy incense, but when he saw them on the shelves, he instinctively thought of Astrid and her sometimes bizarre rituals to clear bad vibrations. Though skeptical, he felt it was the right thing to do.
Shauwn was supposed to say a few words—that was the reason he came. Yet it was harder than he imagined. Emotions surged, memories of her resurfaced, not just the happy ones but also the final moments. He didn't hope for much—it was his burden.
Tears brimmed in his eyes, but he held them back, closing his eyelids to contain the flood. He took a deep breath, rested his hand on the tombstone for a moment, then left.
He carried back the remaining trash, the empty can, and the bag he had brought. No words were spoken—just a silent promise between two beings, one walking the earth, the other drifting in an unknown world.
---
The path to the bus stop lay outside the city, and Shauwn had already covered more than half the distance. The faster he walked, the heavier and more hesitant his steps felt—a discomforting sensation, yet he pressed on.
At the designated location, he waited only a few minutes before spotting the bus lights flicker in the distance. As he approached, the driver opened the door and asked him to confirm his identity, which he did before boarding.
The bus was empty except for the driver, a middle-aged man whose face was obscured by a hat. A brief unease ran through Shauwn's body but quickly passed.
Staying awake was no longer an option. He needed to rest, as he likely wouldn't reach his destination until dawn. Shauwn moved his bag forward and took out two items: a case for his contact lenses—he had never truly had brown eyes or vision problems, only heterochromia, which he preferred to keep hidden—and an audio player with earbuds.
The player wasn't for music. It contained a voice that lulled Shauwn to sleep—a soft, nervous, and clumsy female ASMR, the only remedy for his insomnia. It was Ivy MILLERS' voice, trapped forever in a relic of the old world.
A dream world unfolded before him: a sea of blood under a melancholy gray sky, saturated with sadness. Dreams could feel startlingly real. Shauwn had been there for some time.
The only clue it was a dream: he was walking on the bloody sea.
No one else was around. Despite the distance he traveled, he seemed to neither advance nor retreat, as if frozen in place. Suddenly, his mobility was restrained. Looking down, he saw red hands rising from the sea.
He hadn't felt them touch his skin—how could so many hands have seized him so quickly? Yet, it was only a dream—or so he thought.
More and more bloodied hands emerged, restraining him further. His feet were engulfed, then his thighs, then his hips. Shauwn could no longer move. Even his hands were trapped.
The macabre festival began. The sea churned in several spots, forming humanoid figures. They looked human but moved unnaturally, some bent over, others struggling to maintain an upright posture.
They approached and touched him everywhere—his torso, his face, like precious ornaments. The hands restraining Shauwn no longer only bound his lower body; soon all his limbs were paralyzed, leaving only his face and mouth exposed.
The thought that this was just a dream left his mind. His body struggled instinctively, but it was useless. The creatures approached, slowly merging into him as if it had always been meant to be.
The sensation was unpleasant, suffocating, and sticky. He almost vomited what he had eaten.
He noticed that as one of the entities merged with him, a translucent bar appeared in the gray sky:
[System Initialization: 1%]
Could it be…?
His deduction seemed plausible, but he only verified it when another creature entered him.
[System Initialization: 2%]
He didn't care about the text for now. What he understood was that absorbing a hundred of these creatures would grant his release. This marked the beginning of his survival within the dream. As the entities surged toward him, he noticed three figures in the distance, seated on thrones, watching without moving.
[System Initialization: 3%…5%]