Again, everything goes dark. Empty. Alone. But this time, I’m sure it isn’t a dream. Because I still feel the pain. My whole body hurts, like it’s breaking apart. Especially my head and chest. It ’t be a dream, right? Too real. Too painful.

  The ache in my skull feels sharp, throbbing with every heartbeat. While my chest burns as if something heavy is pressing down ohe cold air aroues at my skin, making the pain sharper, more unbearable.

  Slowly, I begin to hear voices. At first, they’re unclear—my ears are ringing, a high-pitched whihat drowns out everything else. But as the moments pass, the sound grows clearer. It’s like a group of people talking, their words muffled but urgent, overpping each other like waves crashing against rocks. Still, I ’t be sure. After so many stras, the only voice I’ve heard outside my nightmares oma’s. And the rest? Just creatures from my dreams.

  This makes me wain. Is this real, or am I still dreaming? But the pain keeps getting worse. Then I feel like I’m leaking. Blood. ing out. I’m bleeding. I feel wet. The metallig of blood fills the air, sharp and ing, mixing with the damp earthy st ging to my clothes. My sciousness starts slipping… fading.

  My hands tremble as I press them against my sides, sticky warmth spreading ay fingers. The texture of the blood is slick, coating my skin unevenly, and when I try to move, the pain spikes again, f a low groan from my lips. My vision blurs at the edges, darkness creeping in like shadows swallowing light.

  Everything feels heavy—my limbs, my thoughts, even the air itself. Breathing bees harder, eahale shallow and bored, like the weight of the world is crushing me. My mind struggles to hold on, but it’s no use. My sciousness… slips away.

  ....

  I start tain sciousness, but I ’t open my eyes. My body feels petrified—frozen, stiff, and weak. Like a Tes running out of battery. Useless. At the same time, I feel someooug my skin. Their fingers are cold and soft, brushing lightly against my arm, sending faint shivers through me. I’m not dead, right? But for some reason, my eyes won’t open, and my ears ’t hear anything except the dull thud of my heartbeat in my skull. Just darkness. And weakness. My body is pletely helpless.

  Then es a sharp pain in my head. It feels like a knife is stabbing me, cutting into my brain, pulling everything out. The pain is unbearable. I’ve never felt anything like it before. It feels like my head might fall off. Splitting apart uhe pressure. My teeth voluntarily, grinding together as if trying to hold myself together.

  ‘Help me,’ I try to scream. But my mouth won’t move. My lips feel dry and cracked, stuck shut as though glued by an invisible force.

  Followed by almost the same pain, but this time all over my body. It feels like being stabbed by a thousand knives. One would have been enough to kill me. But there are thousands of them. Killing me hundreds of times. Over and ain. Each stab sends waves of agony rippling through my muscles, making my entire frame twittrolbly. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, warm and bitter, trig down my throat.

  ‘Just kill me.’ I will, my mind screaming what my body ’t express.

  In the midst of that hellish torture, I hear a whisper. Very soft. Very distant.

  “Are you okay?”

  It’s a woman’s voice. Simir to... Poma’s voice?

  Even though I reize it, it doesn’t matter. I ’t reply. My mouth won’t move. My eyes won’t open. I’m scared. The pain is unbearable. Please, make it stop. I ’t take it anymore.

  “Calm down. I will help you.”

  Please… help me. Don’t leave me. This pain… it’s killing me. Make it stop. Please… I’m dying. Don’t leave me alone. Again.

  “Calm yourself. And your emotions. Trust me. You are not alone.”

  Lies… I’m falling deeper. Into this darkness. Deeper and deeper. The pain is slowly fading, repced by a numbhat spreads through my limbs like ice water. So are my senses. Is this what death feels like? True emptiness? Where life is lost. My life. At least it doesn’t hurt anymore. Let me sleep again. Don’t wake me up again.

  ...

  Lost... I don’t feel it... My life... My poor life... My terrible life...

  Pain... Ay... Disappoi... Fear... Gone...

  Am I finally free? Really free? Freed from everything?

  “How do you feel? Does death set you free?”

  I don’t know... I’m just free... At st...

  “It’s just an illusion you created. Running away is not a freedom.”

  What’s wrong? What do you know about me?

  “I know a lot about you.”

  How do you know? How you know that?

  “Know Thyself. Theruth will be seen.”

  What truth? What’s there to see?

  “For you to know the differeween dreams ay.”

  Dream? Reality? Didn’t I die? Leave me alone… I just want to die...

  “I loved you but you never loved me. Now you want to leave me?”

  Who are you? Do I know you?

  “I hurt when you hurt. I bleed when you bleed. I will die when you die.”

  I don’t know you. Who are you? What are you?

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m always here. You have to find out. Who I am. Who we really are.”

  I don’t uand. Don’t give me a riddle. Tell me the truth.

  “My time is up. The truth will never go away. It will never ge. You have to find it yourself.”

  Don’t leave... Tell me... The truth...

  Why didn’t I know it? Why ’t I see it?

  Something... pulls me... F me back...

  Light appears, blinding and sharp, searing into my eyes like sunlight refleg off snow. My ears ring loudly, a high-pitched hum drowning out all other sounds. My body feels heavy again. Weighed down by sensatiourning in waves—warmth spreading through my limbs. The rough texture of fabrieath my fiips, the faint smell of damp earth and herbs lingering in the air.

  Am I awake? Really awake? Or is this another lie?

  I slowly open my eyes, squinting against the brightness. Everything is blurry at first, shapes melting together like watercolors. But then the world sharpens, revealing a familiar-looking pce—the temple ruins. And standing over me is a familiar figure.

  “ you hear me?”

  It’s Poma’s voice. Soft. And familiar. Her words brush against my ears like a whisper carried by the wind.

  “ you see me?”

  Her faes into focus—beautiful, serene, her pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She smells faintly of vender and something else, sweet yet earthy, like crushed mint leaves. I remember her.

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll help you.”

  I just want to sleep. It hurts. My body hurts. Every ine feels tender, bruised, as if I’ve been pressed under a heavy weight for hours. My chest rises and falls unevenly with each shallow breath, and the metallig of blood still lingers on my tongue. Sour and bitter. The rough fabrieath me scratches at my skin, grounding me in this momee the haze clouding my mind.

  What’s happening? Bright light floods my vision, apanied by a distant, almost ethereal song that seems to vibrate through the air. Life flows bato me. Fragile and fleeting. Filling the emptiness. Weakness overtakes me as sensation slowly returns to my limbs, ay seeps in, knog at the edges of my sciousness, pulling me awake, f me bay senses.

  “Poma, is that you?” I ask in a husky voice. My throat dry and raw, every word scraping against it like sandpaper.

  A female figure hovers above me. It has to be Poma. My eyes are still blurry. But I’m certain it’s her. Yet, something feels off. o Poma, anure lingers in the er of the room. A woman with long hair casg over her shoulders, dark and glossy, catg the dim light filtering through cracks iemple walls. Who is she? And, where am I?

  “Your body is injured. In addition, there are indications of corruption. You nearly lost your mind,” Poma replies. Her tone is calm. But I sense an uone of worry. And maybe anger? After all, I was the one who made this happen. My stupidity.

  “What is corruption? Is it bad?” I ask.

  “It means an imban your soul. If not stopped, you will slowly lose your rationality,” Poma expins.

  Huh? Rationality? It feels like I’m slowly losing it. Or rather, the sense of closeo reality. I feel more and more detached. Even my rationality seems to be eroding. It’s not strange if I suddenly do something stupid. In fact, this expins a lot of things.

  “You seem to realize something? Is it that dream again? That nightmare came up again?” Poma asks. Leaning closer. Her golden hair frames her face, glowing softly in the dim light.

  I ’t expin it. But it’s better to say it because Poma might have a way out.

  “I don’t know. Was it a dream? Is it my past? Is it myself? I don’t know what I saw.” I reply, trying to make sense of it.

  Because I don’t uand. And never want to uand it. Maybe this is the real problem. I have to slowly figure this out. If not, maybe this will tio haunt me. Maybe even... devour me.

  “Since you decided not to take the path of the chosehen I suggest from now on to start keeping your thoughts in check. Don’t let ive thoughts get the best of you,” Poma says, her voice firm and serious.

  I have no choice but to accept her suggestion. Although I feel that I should find out for myself what the source of this problem is. I worry that my life will never be at peace if this nightmare keeps happening.

  “Okay, I got it,” I reply.

  For a while, I just lie there, resting. As my mind clears, I begin the pce I’m in. This is the temple in the middle of the ruins, the pce where Poma resides. I don’t know how I suddenly found myself here. Did someone bring me here? Or did Enyeka bring me here?

  Poma ter tells me what happened. It turns out that it’s true. I had fallen into the cliff. But that cliff should be very far away from this pce. That feels strange; I didn’t feel like I’d wahat far. Luckily, some people ing to the temple for s saw me fall and brought me back. A miracle? Or maybe this is my plot armor? Whatever it was, I’m alive now. But… I’m not sure if I should feel lucky or unlucky.

  It also expins the ure in this room before. A woman. She seemed to have left in the middle of my versation with Poma earlier. Then Poma tells me those people didn’t mind helping me and took me to their vilge he forest. However, she says I o rest for a few days before leaving. They’re fih waiting and will spend the time fing nearby.

  I spend the rest of the day feeling pain all over my body. Eaent sends fresh waves of agony rippling through me, sharp and uing. I refle everything I’ve experienced so far. Didn’t Socrates say that an examined life is one of stant self-refleaybe I could start notig things I’ve missed until now.

  Like, what is a dream? What is a nightmare? How do they ect to reality? dreams ay influence each other? From my experience so far, the answer seems to be yes—but only to a certaient. There’s still so much I don’t uand. My choice to avoid mystical knowledge doesn’t help either. Without knowing the secrets behind it, truly uanding what’s happening to me feels almost impossible.

  At least thanks to Poma, I’m alive today. It seems like it took a lot out of her. Her expression is different, and the mystical aura she usually carries feels weaker now. I owe her so much. She keeps helpihout asking for anything iurn. Something about this feels strange, but I ’t figure out why.

  Why would Poma go to this extent for me? What’s the reason? Is it because of my status as a chosen one? But she didn’t force me and even gave me choices and helped me adjust in this world.

  What I know now is to hold my thoughts together, and I think Poma is right. ime, even if there is boredom, I must restrain myself. Then don’t let the ive thoughts e me. Although Poma only expi briefly, I think I uand what ive thoughts mean. Because Poma also said it could be that the cause of the nightmare came from myself.

  But what a depressed person like me do? Pretend I’m happy because I’m living some kind of isekai fantasy? Bee the main character? Fix my terrible fate? No way. I ’t pretend anymore. But I ’t accept this reality either. This situation is harder than I ever imagined.

  I want to go back…

  At least there, I didn’t have to worry about being devoured by my own nightmares or fag unknown horrors in this Lovecraftian world. My life has bey own mohat’s more than enough. I don’t need something like Cthulhu or Nyarthotep to top it off.

  Yeah… I want to go home. I’m scared… I’m alone… I might die…

  Someone, please wake me up from this nightmare. I just want to go home. A safe pce. A fortable pot a dreadful pot a frightening pce.

  EYA