Chapter 5 â Endless Night
Alice was fast asleep in the futon, her soft breathing barely audible in the quiet room. Lucid, by contrast, lay awake on a mat of bundled sheets on the wooden floor. It looked uncomfortable, yet it felt oddly right to him. The hardness of the floor supported his joints and posture in a way that brought him a strange kind of relief. He didn't understand the science behind it, but he assumed anything that felt this good had to be healthy.
Still, the floor wasn't the reason he couldn't sleep.
Lucid's mind was a torrent of thoughts. Fuzzy memories had started to return, fragmented like broken glass. He remembered a womanâlocking a doorâand then darkness swallowing him whole. It felt like death, like the end.
"But I'm still here... So how?"
More questions followed. Where had that power come from? That revolver, the way he summoned it through a glowing cardâhe'd done it instinctively, almost like muscle memory. And he hadn't missed a single shot.
"Questions... Questions," he whispered, careful not to wake Alice.
He glanced over at her, marveling at her peaceful slumber. "She really knows how to sleep," he thought to himself with a faint smirk.
He got up quietly and walked around the room. Moonlightâpurple and eerieâstreamed in through the window, casting ghostly shapes on the walls. For a fleeting moment, Lucid found the color beautiful.
He walked over to the mirror to study himself. With his coat hanging across a nearby chair, he stood in just his dark green cargo pants and a black compression sweater. The pants had an absurd number of pockets, most of which he'd already searched. He'd only found a cracked device with glass like a mirror, an old wallet, and his knifeânow laid neatly on a small table beside the futon.
He turned his attention to his body. His hands were scarred. His forearms, revealed as he rolled up his sleeves, bore similar marksâcuts, burns, healed-over wounds that hinted at a life of violence.
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Then, his gaze lifted to his faceâor rather, the strange glass mask that obscured it.
The mask was clean, smooth, and reflective like a mirror. But as Lucid leaned closer, he noticed something strange beneath its surface: a swirling, fog-like substance. Gray and almost alive, it moved in chaotic directions, like smoke trapped under glass.
"Am I even human?" he thought. "How am I breathing? How did I eat?"
He remembered the ramen shop, the chef's strange look. When he ate, the chopsticks had passed through the glass like fog and into his mouth as if the material of the mask parted way the objects enetering his mouth, guiding food through with no resistance.
"Huh. That might explain the weird look from the chef," he chuckled silently.
Bracing himself, he lifted both hands to the edges of the mask and pulled.
Instantly, a loud sound rang in his earsâso loud it felt like a punch to the chest. It was followed by whispers.
"No... no... no... you are... my..."
They came from all directionsâone moment from his left, the next from behind, then from within.
Lucid stumbled back and collapsed against the wall, heart racing. His breath hitched.
"What was that?" he whispered.
His ears still rang. The whispers echoed in his skull.
It was clear: the mask couldn't be removed. Whether a curse, enchantment, or some binding forceâhe was trapped in it.
"Well... it hasn't killed me yet. I'll figure something out."
He sighed and sat in the moonlight, thoughts spiraling again.
What now? Where would they go? What was his goal?
His eyes drifted toward Alice. Peaceful. Innocent.
"Maybe I can start by helping her... before I help myself."
"Help myself," he repeated under his breath.
But to what end? He remembered vague imagesârevenge, a girl's face, betrayal. Aika.
"Why do I feel this much hatred? I don't usually hate anyoneâso why her?"
She had left him behind. Shut the door. Let him die. That much he remembered clearly.
"I'm sure the time will come," he muttered. "For now, I need to be ready."
Fatigue finally overtook him. His eyes grew heavy.
And thenâ
A dream.
He saw her.
Not Alice. Not Aika.
A girl with bright red hair and a fire in her eyes.
"Look at our boy Lucid. Are you tired?" she asked softly, kneeling beside him.
"You'll catch a cold."
A thin blanket wrapped around him in the dream, impossibly warm and light.
"Hey... I know things are tough. You didn't ask for these powers. But don't let her control you. Do what's best for the groupâeven if it seems selfish sometimes. I believe in you. So does our leader. You were also right, what good is pride if we are dead. I believe in you Lucid"
Lucid, half-asleep, murmured, "Kao...ri."
She smiled.
"Rest well. Tomorrow... you've got a big day."