Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

◟★♯0 ‧₊┊˚꒰Prologue and Warnings꒱༘⋆

.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,　　　*　　⠀.　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　

Like the Stars...

For as long as I can remember, I’ve looked up at the night sky, fascinated by the silent spectacle it displays each night. No matter how many times I watch them, I always find something new in their vastness. I believe that, in some corner of their glow, there are answers we’ll never know, secrets they guard jealously as they twinkle above our heads. I’m certain that all of us, at some moment, have paused time for an instant to gaze at the stars, to let their light embrace us, or to lose ourselves in the glow of the moon. It’s inevitable. There’s something about them that calls to us, as if they were fragments of a universal language our soul understands, even when our words cannot.

For humanity, the stars have been much more than lights in the sky. They’ve guided lost travelers, inspired poems and songs, and symbolized what seems unreachable: hope, eternity, purpose. But for me, they’re something more. I feel their brilliance woven into my skin, their essence flowing in my blood, as if, in some way, they and I share a destiny. Although, to be honest, I shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t my path.

Until just eight months ago, I was just an ordinary high school girl. My worries were hating classes, deciding what ice cream flavor to pick on the way home, playing video games late into the night… I thought the greatest pain in life was losing someone you love. But I was wrong. I discovered there’s nothing worse than losing yourself, fading until you barely remember who you were.

It all began with a choice, one seemingly insignificant, like so many others. But that decision, like a domino effect, led me to this moment. Every step I took, every road I chose, took me further away from the girl I used to be. Now, I look at my bloodstained hands and can’t help but think: what have I become? That blood is my burden, my truth, a constant reminder of the paths I’ve taken, the sacrifices I’ve made.

I remember those days when the hardest decision was choosing what manga to read after school. I always thought the worst thing in life was losing a loved one. I was wrong. It’s losing yourself in the process. But now I know that the real terror is looking into a mirror and not recognizing yourself. If I had known then what I know now, I would have run in the opposite direction. But there are things in life you can’t escape, events that chase you down and catch up with you no matter how hard you fight to avoid them. Like them.

At first, I held onto a single wish with all my strength: to go back home. To return to normalcy, to the safe monotony that now feels like a distant dream. But that wish was devoured by something greater, something that grew inside me before I could stop it. They call it a "sense of justice," that need to right the wrongs, even when doing so means breaking yourself into pieces. It means losing the ground beneath your feet and pressing on with broken bones.

Now, my only goal is to survive. But survival isn’t enough. Every time I try to ignore what’s wrong, my conscience reminds me. I can’t look away. I can’t close my eyes. And with every battle, with every choice that tears away a piece of who I was, I feel myself fading more and more. The memories of the girl I used to be vanish like ink washed away by time.

Who was I before all this? I barely know. Sometimes I wonder if, after all, I’m like the stars: a light that persists in the darkness, though destined to burn out. Maybe they, too, feel the weight of their brilliance, the loneliness of being a beacon in the void. Am I like the stars because I carry their glow within me, or because, like them, I’m destined to burn until there’s nothing left?...

Do you remember what we promised?....

I'm not gonna lose anyone else close to me again...

We swear we will always be there for each other.

No matter what happens though, I promise that I'll protect them

LET'S SEE, DON'T SKIP THIS!
As I already guessed, I returned to the Okegom fandom and came up with an idea for a fanfic. There will be many characters who, as the wiki says, still haven't made their "formal debut in Deep-Sea Prisoner's creations," and the only luck we have is that there might be a sentence talking about their personality, so I'll try to make them as close to what could possibly be canon as I can.
The protagonist HAS A NICKNAME, but this is just for the author's convenience, meaning me. I find it uncomfortable to put ____ or (Y/N), but the protagonist’s physical appearance depends solely on you.

You can imagine her however you want since her hair color, eye color, skin tone, and body type are never specified.

And this is when I ask YOU TO COMMENT! It costs you nothing, and I put a lot of effort into making the chapters. I'm not a mind reader; I can’t know whether you like it or not. It's the most valuable interaction you can give me, at least, since I lose motivation easily if I feel like what I do is being ignored.
Please, comment.
AND NOW, THE WARNINGS: Okegom's worlds are a walking warning, and this fanfic is no exception. I'll make a summarized list:

• violence
• Physical abuse
• Torture
•  Trauma
• Dissociation
• Non-consensual acts
• Psychological horror
• Kidnapping
• Strong language
• Stalking
• Harassment
• Obsessive behaviors
• Manipulation
• “””Yanderes””””

Chapter Text

˚₊‧꒰❝Darkness has just engulfed the universe we know

The lament that you sing can't reach ears anymore

We are still far away from reaching clear blue skies

Go ahead, keep shooting, with that ray gun, fight!❞꒱ ─ .✧

.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,　　　*　　⠀.　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　

Your hands were occupied with bags that felt like they contained bricks instead of simple manga volumes. You felt that if you stood still for another second, your arms would go on strike and drop them right there on the platform. But none of that mattered because you were too happy. After an exhausting hunt, you had finally gotten your hands on the physical volume of Hananoi-kun to Koi no Yamai.

"Seriously… You spent an entire hour choosing just two manga. One hour. It was exhausting, and on top of that, the store clerk kept looking at us like we were about to stuff something under our hoodies at any moment." Your friend, Yuri, sounded like a soldier who had survived a war. She let out a heavy sigh and clung to the strap of her backpack as if it were her last source of emotional stability.

"Oh, come on, you just love to complain." You grinned, hugging your new treasure with pride. Nothing was going to ruin your euphoric state. Not the paranoid store clerk. Not the paralyzing indecision that had made you hesitate between two titles for sixty endless minutes. Not even the fact that the train, once again, was running late.

"If you say so..." Yuri didn’t seem in the mood to argue. Instead, she pulled out her phone and, after a few seconds, announced the inevitable: "Of course, the train is delayed again."

Without any surprise, you stepped toward the station’s announcement board, weaving through the growing crowd. Most of the posted papers were the usual: private tutoring ads, ridiculously expensive rental offers, café promotions with French names to seem fancy. But one, in particular, caught your attention.

"Missing: Kurumi Ueda."

You read it aloud. The first thing that caught your eye was the girl’s uniform in the photo. It was the same one you were wearing.

"Oh, Kurumi," Yuri commented without much emotion as she glanced over your shoulder. "She was in our year, but in a different class."

You turned your head toward her, surprised. "Really? I hadn’t noticed."

"I figured," she replied with a half-smile before shrugging. "Doesn't matter. She’s been missing since the start of the school year. They haven’t found a single clue. She’s probably dead."

"That’s cold." You chuckled softly, just as the sound of the approaching train interrupted the conversation.

"I feel bad for her family, but I’m just stating the obvious." Yuri averted her gaze and prepared to board the train. Once the passengers had finished disembarking, both of you squeezed through the crowd and, luckily, managed to find seats together. The moment you sat down, you felt the weight of the entire day crash down on you.

"I can’t wait to get home and put on my pajamas," you murmured, closing your eyes and letting yourself fantasize about the wonderful idea of a peaceful afternoon. No classes, no worries—just you and your new manga.

However, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yuri rummaging through her backpack. When she found what she was looking for, she handed you a pamphlet.

Before you could ask, she spoke:

"They’re alternative options for high school, you know, ways to finish your mandatory studies without suffering so much. You can even go to university afterward if you want." You froze. Of all the things you expected Yuri to hand you—gum, forgotten earbuds, even a random rock she found on the street and thought was pretty—this was definitely not on the list.

Your face must have been quite something because she rolled her eyes.

"Don’t look at me like that. I asked the counselor for you because I knew you wouldn’t do it yourself. You’re struggling this year, and it’s your last year of high school. You should start thinking about what you’re going to do with your life."

You knew she was speaking out of concern, but that didn’t make it any less irritating. You hated talking about school outside of school. And even more, you hated talking about the future. Because if there was one thing that scared you more than surprise tests, it was the fact that… well, you had no idea what to do with your life.

You took the pamphlet without a word and stuffed it into your backpack without bothering to fold it properly.

"Thanks," you muttered with effort. Silence settled between you two, and the trip continued in uncomfortable calm.

Until suddenly, the train came to an abrupt stop.

You lifted your eyes from your phone at the same time as Yuri, and both of you stared at each other. A confused murmur spread through the carriage. You looked out the window and noticed how the sky had suddenly darkened. A storm seemed to be approaching.

And then you heard it. A female voice humming a melody. Soft, sweet… and strangely familiar. You instinctively stood up.

"Do you hear that?" you asked Yuri.

She frowned. "Hear what?"

"The song."

Yuri looked at you as if you had just declared that cats were actually alien spies. "Did you finally lose it?" But you didn’t react to her joke. Because, for some reason, your brain refused to ignore that song.

"Watch my bags and backpack." It was all you managed to say before you started walking without looking back. Yuri called your name, her tone filled with confusion and a hint of annoyance, but you didn’t stop.

That voice kept echoing in your head, sweet and familiar, like a lullaby you once heard and then forgot.

Your steps became automatic, moving from one carriage to the next. The lights flickered slightly overhead, and with each door you crossed, the murmur of passengers faded little by little. Until, without realizing how, you ended up in a completely empty carriage.

Not just empty… but darker.

The air here felt different—denser, colder. The buzzing of electricity in the fluorescent lights was the only thing breaking the silence. But the voice was still there, and now you were sure it was coming from this carriage.

You took a few more steps, suddenly feeling like the protagonist of a bad horror movie ignoring all the warning signs.

And just as you reached the center of the carriage… she appeared.

A figure materialized out of nowhere, so suddenly that your body reacted before your mind could. You stumbled backward, feeling your heartbeat accelerate as if a primitive survival instinct had just kicked in.

It was a girl.

Or at least, she looked like a girl.

The first thing you noticed were her white rabbit ears, long and fluffy, twitching slightly as if reacting to your ragged breathing. But the longer you looked at her, the stranger her appearance became. Her skin was pale, almost translucent under the dim light, and her golden eyes were huge, shining with an almost unnatural intensity.

Before you could process the situation, she took your hand in hers and shook it enthusiastically, her smile so wide it seemed like it would split her face in two.

"Finally, we meet! I must have given your family great genes—you look very healthy… though with dark circles!" With a purely instinctive reflex, you pulled your hand away from hers. Something about her touch made your skin crawl—too cold, too firm. You looked at her with a mix of discomfort and distrust, analyzing her as if she were the strangest creature you’d ever encountered (and you had seen some pretty weird things at anime conventions).

"Who… who are you?" She tilted her head like a curious puppy, but her smile didn’t waver.

"My name isn’t important right now, though you can call me… The Reminiscences of Star." Your eye twitched slightly.

<<Yeah, sure, and next, you’ll tell me you’re the queen of the Celestial Rabbit Kingdom, right?>> you thought.You tried to turn away immediately—no way you were going to humor a possible schizophrenic cosplayer in the middle of a train carriage. But the moment you took a step, an inhuman force grabbed your uniform and yanked you back as if you were a rag doll.

You trembled. Not from cold, but because suddenly, reality felt… different.

The girl sighed with a childish pout, puffing out her cheeks as if she were disappointed.

"I’m really sorry I have to rely on you, truly. I thought traditions would be upheld in your family and that you wouldn’t forget something as important as your lineage. But well, I suppose that’s what happens when someone is raised as a normal human, Yume."

Your brain was still processing the word lineage when something far more unsettling hit you.

She had just said your name.

Your stomach twisted.

You don't remember telling her.

Your hands tense, one gripping the sleeve of your opposite arm. Your breathing becomes shallow, and you feel a pressure in your chest that wasn’t there before.

"W-What… what are you saying?" you murmur, but your voice is barely a whisper.

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she steps closer, and before you can react, she takes your face in her cold hands and presses her forehead against yours.

A shiver runs down your spine.

"I'm not asking you to save the world," she whispers, her tone soft but unwavering. "I just want to return you to the world where you truly belong. I know you have your life here, but you are not one of them. You must follow a different path than theirs. This is how it must be. It’s in your blood. I gave it to you. Use it."

Every word feels like an invisible rope wrapping around you, tightening around your chest, suffocating you in a sensation that is strangely familiar.

She smiles one last time before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And then, everything disappears.

You disappear.

The train car is empty once more.

The golden-eyed girl slowly lowers her arms, her expression turning melancholic as she gazes at the space where you once stood.

Her rabbit ears tremble slightly.

"This world doesn’t have much time left anyway," she murmurs, more to herself than to anyone else. "This is for the best… I'm sorry. I know you're strong. After all, you are an extension of me."

And with those words, the darkness within the train car seems to consume her too, pulling her back to where she came from.

DON'T FORGENT TO COMMENT! HELPS ME TO STAY MOTIVATED

I also had to make up a last name for Kurumi, for those who know who Kurumi is:

AND THE REMINISCENCES OF STAR [There’s so little information about her that it’s incredible, and she’s in the highest category of characters. So her behavior and other possible things are assumptions and because is almost no information about her personality or role. (I love her)]:

Chapter Text

.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,　　　*　　⠀.　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　

To your shame —and with a bit of unnecessary drama— you almost cry when you feel the ground vanish beneath your feet. There’s no time to scream, no time to mentally prepare. You just fall. One second you’re on solid ground, the next you're swallowing the void like it’s a vacuum from hell. And of course, it all ends with a hard thud against the floor.

“Ow!” you protest, scrunching your face as if that would somehow ease the pain.

While trying to catch your breath—and your dignity—you press your palms to the ground to sit up, but then something... moves beneath your hand.

Your body freezes. A chill runs down your spine like someone just turned down the volume of life. You dare to look down, your heart pounding against your ribs like a war drum… and there it is.

A snake.

A real snake. Flesh, scales, and an inquisitive gaze.

You recoil with a scream that you didn’t know could come out of you that high-pitched.

“AAAH!! A SNAKE!!” you shriek like that’s going to help somehow.

You try to shake it off with clumsy movements, half dancing and half spasming like you're acting out a bad exorcism. But the damn thing clings to your arm like you’re its new home. You brace for the bite, the pain, the mouth-foaming, and the end credits of your life... but it never comes. It doesn’t bite. It just stays there, like a living bracelet.

You take a deep breath. Again. And again. One more time.

“Okay, it doesn’t bite. Good. We’re fine... I think.”

You start looking at it more closely. There’s a sort of dotted scar just below its head, like it’s been through some kind of surgery or something. The snake looks at you. It looks at you like it understands more than it should. And then, it hisses. It sounds less like “hissss” and more like “for the love of God, shut up,” which, in hindsight, doesn't really help calm you down.

Then you notice something move beyond the bushes around you. You freeze again. This place… it doesn’t look familiar. No buildings, no roads, no distant sound of cars. Just trees, breeze, and the persistent hammering of your anxiety.

Your stomach twists. Your fists clench. Fear rises and falls through your body like a temperamental wave. You feel like you could cry again, but you force yourself to keep it together. This isn't a movie. There’s no script to follow. You’re alone. And lost. And clearly no longer in your world.

But just as you’re about to panic again, a voice sounds not too far away. Deep, lazy, but dangerous. One of those voices that makes you think, “oh great, this is going to end badly.”

Instinctively, you mimic the snake on your arm and peek your head through the bushes. You don’t know why you do it. Maybe because you can’t stand being in the dark. Maybe because curiosity killed the cat, and you’re basically one.

What you see makes you squint like that’ll help you make sense of it.

A man.

Messy blue hair, skin so pale it could be mistaken for plaster. Pointed ears. And not one, but two tails swaying with that kind of natural arrogance. He’s clearly enjoying himself. The tails look like they were taken from some premium demon catalog.

Your mind scrambles to connect the dots. You’re in another world. Literally. Another world. You don’t know how, don’t know why, but that crazy girl from the train who talked to you probably had something to do with it.

You dig into the pocket of your school skirt and pull out your phone, hoping for a second that Google has a magical solution, but no. The screen is cracked—like your faith in reality. It lights up for a moment, flickers like it's saying goodbye, and dies completely. Touchscreen useless. You’re officially cut off.

“I’m going to burn down this whole forest,” announces the man with the tails, as if that’s the most normal thing in the world. You can hear the amusement in his voice.

Your eyebrow lifts purely on reflex.

“Come out, little monkey,” he adds, and his tone… well, it’s obvious he’s having a blast. Like a sadist.

The snake on your arm trembles. Trembles? Can snakes do that?

You look at the man again, then back at the snake. Little monkey? Is he talking to the snake?

And just when your brain is about to explode trying to make sense of what the hell is going on, the snake changes. Just like that, without warning. Your arm jerks, and suddenly, there are no more scales. No more animal, but a person.

A tall figure, clearly inhuman. Red eyes. Slate-gray hair tied back messily in a low ponytail. Black, curled horns that look sculpted by hand. A tail that sways like it has a mind of its own. And black hands with white nails that look as delicate as they are deadly.

Your mouth opens to say something, anything, but he’s already running. Presumably away from the blue-haired arsonist.

And you, driven by some primal impulse (or maybe because fear does weird things to logic), get up and run after him. You don’t even stop to pick up your broken phone, now forgotten among the leaves. Your mind, however, is racing faster than your legs, mentally retracing every decision that brought you here. Was it the train? That weird girl? Or just your usual terrible luck turned up to eleven?

“A human?” you hear the blue-haired guy say in the distance.

And then you run faster. Your legs ache, your lungs burn, but you don’t stop. Fear has taken the wheel, and you’re just holding onto the passenger seat. Adrenaline pushes you forward. Danger follows close behind. And you can only think one thing as you dodge branches and leap over roots:

“I am so screwed.”

Before you can process everything that just happened —the snake, the two-tailed demon, the wild chase— the trees start to thin out, as if the forest itself is politely letting you pass… or just doesn’t want anything more to do with you. In the distance, through the thin mist and the whisper of wind-stirred leaves, a mansion rises. Old-fashioned, large, dark. The kind of place where, in horror movies, people die just for stepping inside. And of course, you’re running straight toward it. Because apparently, you’ve already made every bad decision possible today — what’s one more?

The man who was a snake a few minutes ago stops right in front of the entrance. His broad back tenses slightly when he notices you arriving behind him. He turns with an expression somewhere between surprise and discomfort, like he didn’t expect you to follow him. Or maybe he thought you’d faint somewhere in a bush.

You, on the other hand, are in no condition to pretend you have any dignity left. You bend forward slightly, hands on your knees, panting like you just ran a marathon. Because, well, that was basically a supernatural obstacle course.

"God... I’m... dead," you mumble, coughing a little. "I’m dead and this is hell. Of course it is."

"Who the hell are you?" the guy asks, taking a couple of steps toward you. His voice is rough, direct. It almost sounds like he’s more annoyed than curious. And then, just to top off the weirdness, he seems to... sniff you? He leans in a little, frowns, and declares with total certainty:
"Definitely human."

You blink, tilt your head, and your brain just freezes up like it’s been hit with a brick. How are you even supposed to talk to someone who was literally wrapped around your arm like a living bracelet five minutes ago? Is there any social protocol for this?

Your eyes drift to the mansion behind him, huge and silent, like it's waiting for something. You swallow hard. Then you muster a bit of courage and meet his gaze... for half a second. His red eyes are intense, almost intimidating. So, like any exhausted and terrified person, you drop your eyes to the ground, seeking refuge in your own words.

"My name is Yume..." you whisper, feeling smaller than you already are. "I... just want to go home."

You hate how it sounds. Fragile, shaky, with a voice threadbare and about to snap. There’s fear, sure, but also exhaustion, confusion, and a sharp stab of shame wedged in your throat. Your head throbs with pain. Everything about you screams "out of place."

He laughs.

Not a kind laugh, not one of relief. He laughs at you. With a mix of mockery and arrogance that makes you want to throw a rock at him —if you had the strength to find one.

"Humans... Are you all this weak?" he asks with disdain, like he expected something more.

Your blood boils. The exhaustion is still there, but from somewhere, a bit of energy sparks up, just enough to get mad.

"Says the brave guy who ran away from the blue-haired psycho!" you snap, pointing at him with your finger, indignation giving you a flicker of life.

He crosses his arms, scowling.

"I had my reasons!" he protests, almost offended.

"And I’ve got a migraine, nausea, and a thousand questions, but here I am!" you fire back.

A moment of silence. He sighs, exasperated, and gives in to the conversation reluctantly.

"Anten," he says at last, with a shrug. "That’s my name. This is Crow Forest, and the mansion... well, it belongs to an acquaintance. And you" he points at you with little interest, "are in Ne-No-Kuni."

You open your mouth. Then close it again. Your lips twist like you just sucked on a lemon. Ne... what?

"Excuse me?" is all you manage to say.

You don’t understand a thing. And you’re not sure if he’s being serious or if you’re actually going insane. But one thing is clear in all of this: you’re very, very far from home.

Before you can even begin to process what that means, and spoiler: it means a lot,  the mansion door swings open, and two figures step out.

The first is a girl with short gray hair and red eyes just as intense as Anten’s. Her skin has a grayish tone that looks strange, but not unpleasant, and her black curled horns look like a nearly perfect echo of his. She has folded black wings on her back, a curled tail, and completely black hands. You get the feeling they could be siblings... or clones. It’s kind of scary.

The second is different. More reserved. She has long, straight, ash-colored hair and is dressed like she works at a high-end funeral home: black vest, crisp white shirt, neatly tied tie. There’s something... unsettling in her eyes. Black sclera, lime-green irises. Each horn is different, like she collected them and glued them on for aesthetic reasons. One has stripes and a piercing; the other looks like an abstract sculpture.

Your body starts to give out. Everything wobbles like the world is a melting painting. The ringing in your head grows louder. Your headache is now a storm you can’t ignore. It’s not just the fear, it’s the overload. Too much. Too fast. Too weird.

"Anten, where the hell were you?" asks the short-haired girl in a laid-back but sharp tone. Her voice has an edge, though she doesn’t sound particularly angry.

The other one, the quieter one, says nothing. But she’s the first to look directly at you. Her expression doesn’t change, but something in her gaze tells you she’s already scanned you completely. Like a demonic airport scanner.

And then it happens.

Your vision warps, the figures double, the ground seems to drift away. All eyes are on you and your mind says: "That’s enough."

Your body collapses. You feel the faint hit like a dark wave swallowing you whole.

And just before everything goes black, you feel something, or someone, grab your arm tightly. Stops you from slamming into the ground completely.

Because of that, your last thought before losing consciousness isn’t fear, it’s a small, bitter kind of resignation.

_{𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : This story contains sensitive and potentially disturbing topics. Please be advised that the harmful actions portrayed by the characters are not meant to be romanticized, excused, or normalized in any way. These actions are fictional and should not be replicated or justified in real life. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes or if something is not understood, English is not my first language!}

_{𖦹 THANK YOU FOR READING! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts! Comments help keep me motivated to write. ╰(*°▽°*)╯}

Chapter Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝓝𝓞𝓣𝓔!

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˚₊‧꒰❝The protagonist's character development is almost here. ヽ（≧□≦）ノ❞꒱ ─ .✧

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.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.　　　　❝Home and I know❞
❝Playing the deck above❞
❝It's always different❞　　　　　　　.　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,　　　*　　⠀.　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　 

It’s strange.
There’s no other way to put it. You’re unconscious, and you know it. Which, in itself, is already strange enough to make you wonder if you’re going insane. It’s like being trapped in a dream you’re not dreaming, but that you feel. A limbo. A non-place. Everything around you is a deep black, like someone spilled ink over the world and then let it dry. And yet the ground—if you can even call it that—reflects your face with absurd clarity, like a perfectly still lake made of dark glass. You see your own eyes staring back at you, more tired than they should be, sadder than you’d like to admit.

You didn’t move for a long while. Why bother? There seems to be no rush here, no time, no direction. You sat down—or maybe collapsed—you’re not sure anymore, and took the chance to cry. Not dramatically or in loud sobs, you just let the tears fall. After all, no one can see you. You're alone here, and as painful as that sounds, at least it gives you the privacy to break a little.

You’re scared.
You remember far too clearly everything that’s happened since you woke up in this absurd place, with snakes that aren’t, demons with double tails, and gazes that seem to pierce right through you. Where are you? When will you be able to go home? Will you be able to go back?

Sure, yeah... you’ve wished to escape your life plenty of times. The usual stuff. “I want to disappear,” “I wish I could just get away,” those things you say without thinking too much. But this wasn’t what you had in mind. This is different. This is real. And now that you have it... you don’t want it anymore. You wish you could scream it at someone, anyone. You want your boring normal back—your unbearable classes, your half-broken bed, your ignored texts and the 7 a.m. alarm clock. All of it.

You take a deep breath. You don’t want another anxiety attack. Your head already feels like it has a drum pounding inside. You wipe your cheeks with the sleeve of your school uniform, wrinkling your nose at how wet and cold they are, trying to pull yourself together, at least a little.

And then, without warning, you feel it.
Something moves.
Your pupils shrink in an instant as a light—a kind of tiny star, like the ones in cartoons but shining for real—emerges from your chest. As if it had always been there, hidden between your ribs. It spins around you a couple of times, as if making sure you’ll follow, and then floats off, heading toward some undefined point in the void. And you, for some reason you can’t explain, get up and follow it.

You walk aimlessly. Literally. There are no paths, no sky, no real ground. Just that black space and your reflection trembling beneath your feet. The whole place is a floating paradox. But you follow the star because it’s the only thing that makes sense so far.

And as you move forward, the environment begins to change.
Silhouettes start to appear. People. Or rather, not people. Some have wings that flap in a wind you can’t feel. Others have horns, tails, strange and grotesque shapes. At this point, nothing surprises you. You just watch them with a mix of curiosity and resignation. They’re blurry, like poorly focused shadows, but you can hear distant voices. Laughter, whispers, incomplete phrases. Some of them sound familiar. Too familiar.

No... this isn’t a lucid dream. It doesn’t feel like one. There’s something too sharp, too real. As if the dream is dreaming you.

Suddenly, the star stops. It spins once more in the air and circles a figure among all the others. This one isn’t a blurry silhouette. No. You see it clearly, as if someone had lit it with a special spotlight. It’s female in shape. You approach instinctively, wanting to call out, but something suddenly stops you.

An invisible barrier. Like a glass wall.
You hit it without expecting to and recoil, pressing your palm to it. It’s cold. Smooth. Real. Can’t you get closer? Not even touch her?

But then, the figure slowly turns her head… and looks straight at you.
Your lungs freeze.
Her eyes are red, glowing like burning coals, but they’re not scary... or at least not as scary as they should be. Her hair is light orange, tied in a long side ponytail that sways in a soft breeze. She wears a large ruby-red ribbon that contrasts with her fair skin. Her messy bangs give her the look of an ordinary girl—someone you might see at a high school. For a second, you almost believe she’s human.

Until you see her claws.
Huge, sharp, red claws. Almost as long as her own arms. You swallow hard.
You want to speak, but she beats you to it.

“Hi!” she says with an unexpectedly warm smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone... especially a human.”

It takes you a couple of seconds to process her tone. It’s cheerful, almost casual. Like she just bumped into you at the supermarket, not in the middle of an interdimensional limbo.

“Where are we?…” you ask in a low voice, so worn out you barely recognize yourself. Your tone is like a crumpled napkin, crushed under too many emotions.

The girl blinks, a bit confused.
“Huh? Oh… this is your doing. You created this place.”

You frown at her, then look around, blinking hard.
“What? No... No, that’s impossible. I can’t even draw hands.”

The girl laughs—a short sound, but not mocking. More like she finds you endearing.
“My name’s Rieta, by the way,” she adds, as if this were a completely normal conversation.

You notice the sudden shift in topic. It doesn’t explain much, but for some reason… it comforts you. You can’t help but smile a little—just a timid curve of your lips. You’re still confused, of course, and the situation is surreal, but Rieta’s strange kindness helps release some of the tension you’ve been carrying since this all began.

“My name’s Yume,” you say at last, in a voice stronger than you expected. “But please explain properly. I don’t understand any of this.”

You’re in no shape to accept vague answers—you need something, anything, that makes sense. So far, it’s all been running, fear, passing out, waking up in new places… If this is a dream, it has terrible customer service.

Rieta nods slowly, tapping a finger to her chin like she’s organizing her thoughts.

“Let’s see…” she begins, with that now-familiar carefree tone. “I’m not totally sure either, but I think this place is like... a connection point. Between worlds, between memories, between people. Sort of like a universal waiting room—but without chairs.”

You blink, unsure whether she’s joking. But she keeps going.

“It’s like you can see people from your dreams, like their presence leaks into here. They don’t seem to notice, of course, and you can only see the people, not their surroundings. Everything else is… disconnected. A space where time, logic, and perception are on airplane mode.”

She gestures with her claws, drawing a circle in the air.

“But hey, that’s just a theory. Nobody gave me a manual.”

She takes a step closer, stopping right at the invisible barrier between you. You realize she speaks naturally, but her words carry something else—a desire to understand, to make sense of something that probably escapes her control, too.

“This is so weird,” you mutter, crossing your arms—not to look strong, just because you don’t know what else to do with them. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

She nods, understanding.

“I don’t know what situation you’re in, but… sometimes, when the mind’s at its limit, when the heart breaks and you fall beyond exhaustion… things can happen. Things you don’t understand, things you didn’t even know you could create. Maybe, without realizing it, you are causing this.”

You stare at her, one eyebrow raised.
“Are you saying this is all my fault?” you ask, half joking, half terrified.

“Mmm… not fault, exactly. Let’s say you’re… the catalyst.”

“The what?”

You were about to ask more, but before you can form the words, she cuts in, as if she already knows what you’re going to say.

“Maybe it’s because I’m a deity, and that’s why I can interact with you,” she says casually, like someone saying, “I’m a Gemini.” “Or maybe it’s for other reasons.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. And finally, you burst out laughing. You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry, but you go with laughter because you already hit rock bottom with crying.

“A deity? That sounds cool.”

Rieta laughs too—warm, contagious. For a moment, you both forget where you are.

“Yeah… I guess it sounds cool. But the truth is, even as a deity, I couldn’t help or protect the most important person to me.”

Her smile turns sad, and her eyes lower, distant. She leans her back against the invisible wall. You fall silent, a small knot forming in your stomach.

“I just… I just wanted to see him smile. That’s all,” she says softly.

The honesty in her words disarms you. You don’t know what to say. There’s a vulnerability in her you didn’t expect. Suddenly, you feel a little less alone.

“What’s his name?” you ask, almost in a whisper, as if you don’t want to break the moment.

“Ivlis. His name is Ivlis.” Rieta smiles—but not a happy smile. It’s melancholic, tinged with nostalgia and pain.

You decide not to say anything else. You just look at her with quiet respect.
Sometimes, listening is enough.

And then, you hear it.
A distant beeping.

At first, you barely recognize it, but it gains strength. A familiar vibration that shakes your consciousness. As if someone were calling you back to the real world. To discomfort, to cold, to headaches.

Rieta hears it too. She slowly lifts her head and looks at you with a mix of sadness and understanding.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” she says, and this time her voice is soft, almost maternal.

You nod. Something in your chest aches. Not because of the ringing, but because you don’t want to leave. Or maybe, you don’t want to leave her. She reminds you of someone. Yuri. Maybe that’s why. Or maybe it’s because she’s the first person in this strange place who’s treated you with something resembling kindness.

“Will I get to see you again? … Can we be friends?”
The question comes out on its own. You didn’t even think to say it, but now that it’s out, you feel it with all your heart. You need a refuge, someone who understands. And Rieta… Rieta seems to want to be that for you.

She smiles, and that smile comforts you more than any logical explanation could.

“Of course we can. I’d be happy.”

She pauses before adding:

“But whether you’ll see me again… that’s not up to me.”

Just before everything fades away, you manage to lift a hand to wave goodbye. Rieta returns the gesture, bidding you farewell with sweetness. Then, everything melts into white.

You wake up with a start.

A gasp of air escapes your lungs as if you'd been underwater for too long. You're on a couch. An old one, upholstered in worn velvet. You take a moment to understand that you’re back.

In front of you, the two girls you saw before fainting are staring at you. They fall silent as soon as they notice your eyes open.

“Sheesh, took her forever to wake up,” mutters the short-haired one, arms crossed, expression somewhere between bored and annoyed.

The other girl—the one with asymmetrical horns, black sclera eyes, and that aura that screams “I could probably tear you in half without breaking a sweat”—gets up calmly from the armchair she was sitting in. Her movements are fluid, but there’s something animal-like about them. She leans toward you, tilting her head as if studying a rare specimen. The way she observes you, you’d swear she’s checking for vital signs… or some interesting mutation.

Meanwhile, all you can think is:
Why didn’t I stay just a little longer with Rieta...?
At least that girl smiled without looking like she could rip your soul out with one finger.

“What’s your name?” she asks bluntly. Her tone isn’t aggressive, but it isn’t exactly warm either. More like… clinical. As if you’re just another field in some supernatural Excel spreadsheet.

You hesitate. You glance at the other girl—the short-haired one—who’s also watching you intently, saying nothing. Waiting for an answer. Both of them are.

“My name is Yume,” you murmur at last. At this point, cooperating with these two seems like the wisest choice. You’re not sure if your life is in danger, but you don’t want to find out. You take a breath, then ask with some effort, “And you two?”

“Kurotsuno,” says the horned girl, gesturing to herself. “She’s Hanten.”

“I’m her best friend,” Hanten adds proudly, pointing at Kurotsuno like she’s presenting a work of art. She says it with such enthusiasm that, for a second, you feel like you should applaud.

Kurotsuno extends a hand to you. It seems like a kind gesture at first, until she says with complete nonchalance:

“Give me your hand for a moment.”

The way she says it doesn’t make it sound like an optional request. You blink, a bit confused.

“For what?”

“Just do it.”

Okay. Not like you have many cards to play here. Still a little wary, you sit up on the couch and place your hand in hers. At first, nothing happens. Just the cold touch of her fingers on your skin. Ten seconds of awkward silence go by, and then Kurotsuno suddenly lets go of your hand with a slight jolt. She frowns, as if something didn’t quite add up in her internal calculation of “normal things that should happen when touching a lost human.”

She turns to Hanten with a serious expression. Hanten raises an eyebrow.

“Well?” she asks, as if she already knows the answer.

Kurotsuno nods.
“Yes. We should definitely take her to Chlomaki.”

They exchange that silent look that only close friends—or criminal accomplices—share. You’re too tired to tell which one applies here.

Hanten gestures toward you with exaggerated annoyance.
“But not like this. She stinks. And that school uniform is going to draw attention.”
She doesn’t bother to sugarcoat it, and you… well, you do what any decent person would: discreetly sniff your armpit.

And yeah. Maybe you don’t smell like a spring flower. But a little tact wouldn’t hurt.

“I passed out in the forest,” you mumble, trying to defend your dignity. No one listens.

Without further ado, Kurotsuno grabs you by the arm and drags you down the hallway. Literally. Like a sack of potatoes being hauled from point A to point B. She guides you (or rather, pushes you) to a bathroom—old, but clean. She turns on the bathtub faucet decisively while you blink, still processing how fast everything is moving.

“I left some clean clothes there,” she says, pointing to a small cabinet near the window, where a neatly folded outfit rests. Before leaving, she glances out the window, making sure no one’s outside. Then, she turns to you.

“These clothes should fit. I don’t use them anymore, so you can keep them.”

As she’s about to leave, you step forward, a bit unsure.

“I… thank you.”

You’re surprised you said it. It just comes out naturally. She nods and closes the door behind her. She doesn’t seem mean—but she’s definitely intimidating. You’re not sure if she does it on purpose or if her face just comes like that from the factory.

You sigh.

You’re not used to bathing outside of your own home. In fact, using other people’s bathrooms makes you a little nervous. But the water is already warm and smells like lavender soap. You don’t think twice.

You take off your school uniform—dirty, damp, covered in leaves—and leave it in a corner like you never want to see it again. You get into the tub all at once, and a shiver runs down your spine. Not from the water, but from the overwhelming feeling of finally… being able to think. As if your mind has finally stopped running around like a headless chicken.

Rieta’s words still echo in your mind. Kurotsuno’s looks. Hanten’s. Even that blue-haired guy with the twin tails.

Demons, you think. They have to be demons. There’s no other explanation.

You clench your fists underwater. You can’t let this overwhelm you. If you do, if you let fear drag you under, you’ll be lost. You’ll fall. And there’s no one left to catch you this time.

You rinse off quickly and step out of the tub. You use the towel hanging nearby to dry yourself and then approach the clothes. Carefully, you begin to dress.

The blouse is white, short-sleeved, slightly puffed. It has a high ruffled collar that reminds you of old photos of Victorian governesses, but somehow it doesn’t feel ridiculous. There’s a row of buttons in front and small decorative pleats that make it elegant.

The black skirt has thick straps that cross over your shoulders and a corset-like section that cinches your waist with surprising precision. Seeing it on you, you barely recognize yourself.

The black boots and thigh-high socks with white trim complete the outfit—these last two almost identical to what Kurotsuno wears. You feel strange… but also kind of good. You don’t usually wear this kind of clothes, but you do like skirts.

When you open the bathroom door, Kurotsuno and Hanten are there, like unhurried statues. Have they been waiting there the whole time?

“Sorry I took so long,” you say with a sheepish laugh, hand to your neck. “I didn’t expect you to be waiting outside.”

It makes sense, of course. A human wandering alone in their world would be like… well, like a lit torch in a dry forest.

Hanten looks you up and down and bursts out laughing.

“Wow, Kurotsuno. I didn’t know you wanted a little sister. In that outfit, she looks like you just adopted her.”

Kurotsuno shoots her a death glare.
“Shut up,” she replies curtly, before handing you one last piece: a black cloak with a hood. It’s not exactly fashionable, but it has a dramatic air that you don’t dislike. You put it on carefully, tying the ribbon at your neck.

“Is this… necessary?” you ask, a bit confused.

“More than you think,” Hanten replies, arms crossed. “We don’t know what the hell you did, but word’s already spreading that a human showed up out of nowhere.”

Your blood runs cold. You don’t ask how they know. Your mind goes straight to one figure:

The blue-haired boy with the twin tails. He must’ve said something. It had to be him. It was him. Couldn’t have been anyone else.

You grit your teeth.

𝑬𝑿𝑻𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑬

"But are you sure she's human?" Hanten asks again, arms crossed, eyebrows arched, and with that tone she always uses when she wants someone to tell her she's right.

The question hangs in the air like an annoying fly. Kurotsuno doesn’t answer right away. She’s leaning against the wall, staring at the bathroom door as if she could see through it. Steam seeps out from underneath, and the dripping faucet is the only sound breaking the tense silence.

"Do you have a better idea then?" she finally replies, with that calm of hers that always sounds like a barely-contained threat. Her gaze shifts to Hanten, who just shrugs, then back to the door.
"Because I don’t. And if she’s not human… well, she’s something very close. And pretty convincing."

"‘Convincing’ doesn’t seem like a reliable unit of measurement for identifying species, Kurotsuno," Hanten snaps back, frowning as she fidgets with the edge of her jacket.
"She could be a shapeshifter. Or an illusion. Or—I don’t know..."

Kurotsuno stares at her, unblinking.
"Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re joking or if you should talk to someone," she says dryly.

"A bit of both," Hanten replies with a quick smirk. But her expression shifts just as quickly to something more serious—more than usual. One of those rare times she lets it show that she’s genuinely concerned.
"So… what Anten said. It’s true?"

Silence again. Longer this time. Heavier.

Kurotsuno pushes off the wall with a sigh, as if what she’s about to say is harder to accept than to speak.
"Yes. I noticed it when I touched her hand," she confesses, lowering her voice slightly—not out of secrecy, but out of respect, as if the words needed to be softened so they wouldn’t break something delicate.
"There’s something in her touch… a faint vibration, a strange pull. Too soothing."

Hanten presses her lips together, not making a joke this time.

"And while she was unconscious?"

"Same thing. I don’t know how to explain it. It wasn’t a heartbeat, or anything like that… it was something else. Quieter. Like a second pulse, hidden away. Like something sealed inside. It’s not normal. But it’s not hostile either. At least, not for now."

"Great," Hanten mutters, and this time her sarcasm sounds more like a shield than an actual joke.
"I love it when the stuff we find comes with a built-in 'for now' in the threat level."

"She’s not a threat," Kurotsuno insists firmly, turning fully toward her friend. Her dark, serious eyes no longer carry that usual sharp gleam. Now, they hold something else. Worry, maybe. Or doubt.

"But she’s not normal either," Hanten finishes.

Both fall silent. On the other side of the door, the sound of running water stops. The whisper of steam thickens for a moment, wrapping the scene like an invisible fog.

"I don’t know what she is," Kurotsuno admits, like someone pulling a thorn from their pride.
"But I don’t think she’s here by accident."

Hanten doesn’t answer right away. She keeps her eyes on the door, as if expecting that human—Yume—to step out at any moment, fully transformed into some creature with multiple eyes and a shadow-tongue.
But nothing happens.

_{𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : This story contains sensitive and potentially disturbing topics. Please be advised that the harmful actions portrayed by the characters are not meant to be romanticized, excused, or normalized in any way. These actions are fictional and should not be replicated or justified in real life. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes or if something is not understood, English is not my first language!}

_{𖦹 THANK YOU FOR READING! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts! Comments help keep me motivated to write. ╰(*°▽°*)╯}

Chapter Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝓝𝓞𝓣𝓔!

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˚₊‧꒰❝I had to write this chapter much faster than usual, and even then it still took me a long time to publish it. I'm sorry if there are things that don't make sense—or any mistakes! 〒▽〒 (Edit: There are no extra scenes because I made this episode at the last minute and I forgot.)❞꒱ ─ .✧

.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.　　　　❝I don't know what I want❞
❝but I know it's not this❞
❝These words don't mean nothing once they've left my lips❞　　　　　　　.　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,　　　*　　⠀.　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　 

You were pretty freaked out when you crossed the borders of the Crow Forest and stepped into what looked like the beginning of Castle Town. The place seemed decent—almost peaceful—but the moment you set foot on its cobbled streets, your stomach turned. The architecture was irregular, something... interesting, so grim it felt like it had been designed specifically to crush the soul of anyone who entered. As if the forest had only been an appetizer, and the real main course of fear was waiting right there, among the alleyways and shuttered windows. From where you walked, you could see the castle in the distance, looming like a bad omen. Not that you were planning to face any final boss (yet), but that thing dominated the skyline like a death sentence.

On an impulse you didn’t even have time to rationalize, you reached out and grabbed Kurotsuno’s arm, like a child’s reflex. It wasn’t exactly comforting, to be honest—the girl had all the warmth of a rusty knife—but at least she was familiar. What you wouldn’t do, no matter how nervous you were, was get too close to Hanten, who was walking on the other side. Her mere presence made you as tense as having to explain your math grades to your parents.

And then you noticed another detail: Anten, in his snake form, had somehow latched onto your shoulder without you realizing it. Since when had he been there? When had he climbed on you like you were a conveniently located tree? You could feel the light weight of his serpentine body, cold and damp in some places, and honestly... he still grossed you out a little. It was like having a living sausage glued to your collarbone.

And as if that weren’t enough, you also had to deal with the feeling that Hanten kept glancing at you from the corner of her eye. Maybe because of Anten. Or your clothes. Or just the fact that you were a human crashing into their world like it was no big deal. Whatever the reason, you felt that stare piercing into you like a needle.

“Hey,” you blurted suddenly, trying to lighten the mood with some casual conversation that wouldn't end in you being disintegrated by a glare, “are you and Anten related or something? You look way too much alike. Even your names sound like copy-paste.”

You glanced sideways at the snake, who simply let out a dry “Nha.” A sound that barely qualified as effort, like someone shaking their head while yawning.

You huffed, half resigned. “Alright, alright. Mystery unsolved then.” You weren’t going to push it, mostly because you didn’t want her biting your neck. Instead, you focused on holding onto the hood of your cloak, which kept slipping back from the breeze weaving through the streets. You couldn’t let it fall now—not with so many demons, vampires, and bizarre creatures walking around like they were at a shopping mall. You already stood out enough just by being... you.

Trying to distract yourself from the creeping panic biting at your ankles, you decided to keep talking to Anten, who, surprisingly, was easier to talk to—probably because he was the first one you met.

“You're demons, right? That’s kinda cool.” You forced a smile, more for yourself than for him. At first, sure, the word “demon” had triggered some existential dread. But now… well, you’d survived the forest, the shock, and waking up in someone else’s bathtub in borrowed clothes, so you were adapting.

“Want a round of applause?” Anten replied, his tone dry as a stale cookie.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Doubt you can in that form.” You covered your mouth to keep from laughing out loud. The mental image of a snake trying to clap with its tail was absurdly funny. You weren’t even sure if you were genuinely amused or just starting to lose your mind.

You were so caught up in that ridiculous image that you nearly walked into the girls when they suddenly stopped in front of a dark door, decorated with inscriptions you clearly didn’t want to understand. You peeked between their shoulders, curiosity mixed with anxiety, only to see someone who froze you in place.

A girl stood there, dressed entirely in black. Her skin was so pale it almost glowed. She had a feline look: a long black tail that moved like it had a mind of its own, cat ears peeking out from under a huge witch hat tailored for those very ears, and sleek black hair that reached the floor, tied with a ribbon that looked like it came from a box of faded gift wrap. Her eyes were pitch black, except for narrow white pupils like blades. She was... intensely strange. Like a mix between a witch, a cat, and a goth drama queen.

“Well, well,” she said in a sing-song voice, “what a surprise to see you two! Though I doubt this is a friendly visit.”

“Yeah, you wish,” Hanten shot back with a mocking smile. “We came for this.” She jerked a thumb toward you like you were a sack of potatoes.

You gave a weak wave, uncomfortable. If it were up to you, you’d be miles away from here.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumor about a human showing up out of nowhere three days ago,” Kurotsuno began.

You turned to her in surprise. “Three days?” Had you been unconscious for two whole days? That encounter with Rieta… had it really been that long? You suddenly felt a little dizzy.

“Oh yes,” the witch replied, raising an eyebrow as she looked at you. “That rumor’s spreading like the plague.”

Without asking, she grabbed your arm with surprising force and shoved you inside the house. The other two followed as if this were all perfectly normal. You, not so much.

“Have you noticed it?” Kurotsuno asked as the witch made you sit in a chair.

“Yes, I noticed,” the witch murmured, her tone now serious. You, tired, fed up, and feeling more like an object than a person, lost your patience.

“Okay,” you said loudly. “Are you gonna tell me what the hell you’ve noticed, or do I have to guess through telepathy?”

Chlomaki was the first to answer.

“When I touch your skin... something weird happens,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s like something inside you activates. A feeling of peace, yes, but also a sharp sting. Like remembering something terrible for a second... and then nothing. Just calm. Like a scar that suddenly stops hurting.”

You looked at them all: the gothic witch with cat ears, Kurotsuno with her harsh expression, Hanten who looked ready to throw a knife at any moment, and Anten, your new living scarf.

“What?” you asked, a mix of confusion, fear, and something bordering on hysterical laughter. This was starting to feel like a comedy show. You put your hand over your face.

“This didn’t happen in my world,” you muttered, letting out a sigh like someone who’s hit their limit and is one step away from jumping out the window—if there were any windows.

The room stayed silent for a moment, filled with that awkward tension when no one knows if what’s happening is a joke or a developing curse. The air felt heavier—or maybe you were just forgetting to breathe properly.

“So it only affects non-humans. Could be, right?” Hanten said in her usual expressionless tone. She looked at the other two girls, as if waiting for one of them to disagree or back her up. She didn’t look at you, and you didn’t try to get her attention. You wouldn’t even know what expression to put on—fear? Annoyance?

Before anyone else could speak, you felt a weight slip off your shoulder. Anten slid down like a scarf deciding it wanted independence, hitting the floor with a wet, unpleasant sound before transforming back into his usual demon form. You blinked at the change, still not used to how he did that without breaking bones. Then again... does he even have bones?

“It only happens with direct skin contact,” he reported calmly, brushing himself off like he still had dust on him. “When you touch clothes, nothing happens.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You must be the genius of your family, huh?” You couldn’t help the jab, smirking as you crossed your arms. Not that you had anything against him... well, maybe a bit. But the urge to tease was stronger.

Anten’s scowl appeared so fast it was almost scary, and suddenly he grabbed you by the collar of your white shirt, gripping tightly—not enough to hurt, but just enough to make you feel that tingle of danger.

“Say that again if you want to,” he growled, fangs slightly visible. His breath smelled like a mix of incense and damp earth. Not horrible, but not something you wanted that close.

With that mix of bravery and death wish that had followed you since arriving here, you simply raised your middle finger in his face.

He didn’t get to do anything, because Kurotsuno’s voice cut through the moment like a sharp knife.

“You’re like little kids. We don’t have time for this,” she snapped, crossing her arms with the cold authority of a teacher fed up with her students. Her tone left no room for argument. Anten finally let go of you with an annoyed huff, and you adjusted your clothes.

You looked over at the cat-witch, who was watching you all like this was cheap entertainment. “You’re Chlomaki, right? I’m Yume,” you said, pointing at yourself with your thumb and forcing a smile. Introducing yourself now, right after nearly getting strangled, might not be the most logical thing—but you had no idea what was expected of you in this world anymore.

Chlomaki looked delighted by the attention. Her cat ears twitched slightly, and she grinned ear to ear as if you’d just accidentally complimented her.

“Yume, huh... pretty name,” she said, making a pair of elegant-looking gloves appear out of nowhere—clearly intended for you. “Would you be interested in being my assistant? It’s odd, but I feel like there’s magic inside you. I’d love to have a human helper. You’d be my little adorable experiment.”

She held the gloves out like they were an irresistible offer, the fabric shimmering lightly in her fingers. You didn’t take them. You weren’t planning on staying here long anyway.

You instinctively stepped back, shaking your head so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “No, no. Thanks, but no. I just want to go home. Although...” you tilted your head slightly, “...I’d like you to tell me how to do that.”

Chlomaki’s face shifted subtly. Her smile stayed, but her eyes narrowed. “It’s complicated,” she began, snapping her fingers to make the gloves vanish. “There are MANY human worlds. Not just one. It’s not like there’s a simple ‘go back’ button. Have you noticed any anomaly, any strange power, something that doesn’t quite belong to you? That might help.”

You bit your lip, thinking. You looked at the others, who now stared at you with an interest you didn’t like one bit. Like you were a strange stone about to crack open.

“Yeah... maybe,” you admitted finally.

You decided to tell them about the dream.

[ . . . ]

After telling everything —from the dream, without mentioning Rieta, to that stupid glowing star that seemed to have more purpose in this hellish journey than you did yourself— Chlomaki’s brilliant, splendid, and absolutely questionable idea was none other than… to make you fall asleep again.

“Visualize your world while dreaming,” she said, with that excited tone mad scientists get right before doing something morally ambiguous. “That way, we’ll reach it more easily.”

Oh, of course. Because sleeping in the middle of a room full of demons, a witch, and people looking at you like you're a ticking bomb… is super easy.

You shifted in place, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s not that easy to fall asleep when I have four people staring at me, you know?”

Chlomaki, with that infuriating little smile of hers, suddenly appeared right beside you. “Come on! Just smell this potion and you’ll drop off. Plop, like a rock. You won’t even notice.”

She held it right under your nose like you were a kid refusing to take her medicine. You looked at it suspiciously, frowning. It smelled like flowers, something sweet… but also like the back of a forgotten shelf, and that did not give you a good feeling.

“Sorry, but I’m not falling asleep by inhaling a potion made by a cat-witch I just met.”

“I’m so done with you, human,” Hanten growled, her face a mix of exasperation and the desire to shoot herself in the head.

And before you could step back or defend yourself, she grabbed your head with undeniable force and, without the slightest hesitation, forced you to inhale the potion.

Your first thought was: how unhygienic.
The second: THIS THING SMELLS LIKE WET WOOD!

Then… darkness.

[ . . . ]

When you opened your eyes, you knew immediately where you were.
That black floor, gleaming like still water. That skyless sky. That nothingness pressing down on your shoulders.
You were back.
Back in that strange place where you’d first seen Rieta. You felt it instantly, a chill crawling down your spine. The place had that terrifying déjà vu quality, like returning to a dream you thought you’d escaped.

And just like before, that tiny star emerged from your chest, floating with a weak but steady glow. It said nothing, did nothing but drift forward slowly, guiding you once again.

You followed it.
Hoping for another revelation. Another symbol. A clue, at least.

But the star didn’t lead you to anything you expected.
It led you to a bag.

Old. Dirty. The same one you’d left with Yuri before you disappeared—only now more worn, more frayed.

“What? What is this supposed to be?” you muttered, crouching down. You reached out to touch it, but just as your fingers brushed the fabric… puff. It vanished.

You froze. Blinked. You didn’t understand. It made no sense. Was it just a memory?

“You do know what it means,” said a voice, as if it had read your thoughts.

You snapped your head up. And there she was.

You.
But different.

She stood right in front of you. She had your face, your body, your voice… but her eyes burned with a certainty you had never seen in the mirror. A fierce determination. A more vivid life. As if she’d grown up in another world—one where you weren’t weighed down by fear, by doubt, by guilt.

“What…? How…?” Your voice trembled. The ground felt like it shifted beneath you. Your lips parted, but no words came out.

“There’s nothing left,” said your other self. “No Yuri. No Grandma. No Mom. Nothing. It’s all been erased.”

And something inside you shattered.
You felt your chest cave in. The tears came without warning, fast and messy. Once they started, there was no stopping them.

“Why are you crying, Yume? Why does it hurt? Because there’s nothing left? But now you don’t have to worry about disappointing them. Or who hates you. Or who you failed.”

Something in you snapped.
You lunged at her with a strangled cry of rage, your hands around her throat. You both crashed to the ground, you on top. Your tears fell onto her face, but she didn’t fight back. She just looked at you. Calm.

“Who are you?! Was it you?!” you screamed hoarsely, squeezing tightly, not knowing if it was hate or desperation fueling you.

“It’s not like that,” she said, not resisting. “I didn’t do anything. I’m Yume. I’m you.”

“You’re not me.”

“Of course I am. I’ve lived here since we were born. Though I guess I’m not real, am I?”

Your grip loosened.
You collapsed to the side, onto the floor. You broke down crying like a lost child. Hands in your hair, tugging slightly, desperate. The sobs weren’t pretty or elegant. They were ugly, snot-filled, shaking, hollow.

She knelt beside you. Her hands touched your cheeks with a strange softness. They were cold. Cold like marble. Like no blood flowed beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. You didn’t even know why. But you said it.

She didn’t reply.
She just looked at you. As if watching you cry was something new—something almost miraculous.

Through your hiccups, you raised your hand.
She did the same.

Your fingers nearly touched. Like a mirror.
You could’ve been one.
She could’ve been everything you never became.
And you… could become what she never had the chance to be.

“Let’s become one,” you whispered.

And she smiled. For the first time.
Not with joy—but with peace.

“No matter how many versions exist, there's only one true Yume.”

“What was once divided, now becomes indivisible.”

[ . . . ]

Your eyes flew open.

No transition, no warning.
It was like falling from a great height and landing flat on your back—in your own body.

Air rushed into your lungs as if you hadn’t breathed in years, and you sat up with a jolt, throat dry, eyes wide, heart pounding like it wanted out of your chest.

You were back.

You blinked several times, disoriented. The ground was no longer black and liquid. There was light, albeit dim. Color, though faded. You were back in that place, strange, unfamiliar.
Only Kurotsuno and Chlomaki remained at your side now.

Both watched you.
Chlomaki with her usual half-mysterious, half-nosy smile.
Kurotsuno, arms crossed, a slight frown on her face like she’d been waiting too long for something to happen.

Your only response was to place a hand on your chest.

Something had changed. You knew it. You felt it.

Your breathing wasn’t the same. Your skin wasn’t the same. Even your shadow, if you looked at it sideways—seemed to have a different texture. Denser. More… whole.

As if something new had awakened in you.
Or maybe… something that had always been there had finally stirred.

Before Chlomaki could start bombarding you with questions, you knew she was about to unleash an entire list of uncomfortable ones—you raised your other hand to your face.
You couldn’t speak. Not yet. You knew that if you did, your voice would crack, and the tears would spill again.

So instead… you just breathed.

And said:
“Give me those damn gloves.”

With that, you accepted being her assistant—
And, in your own broken way, you gave an answer to what had happened.
You couldn’t go home.

You reached out your other hand, and managed a pained smile.

A part of you
The new part of you
Felt a determination you’d never known before.

_{𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : This story contains sensitive and potentially disturbing topics. Please be advised that the harmful actions portrayed by the characters are not meant to be romanticized, excused, or normalized in any way. These actions are fictional and should not be replicated or justified in real life. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes or if something is not understood, English is not my first language!}

_{𖦹 THANK YOU FOR READING! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts! Comments help keep me motivated to write. ╰(*°▽°*)╯}

Chapter Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ𝓝𝓞𝓣𝓔!

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˚₊‧꒰❝I'm back!! This part is divided into two, with this first one being lighter and less intense, because the second part is when things start to get dark and heavy. The second part will be released on Friday, August 1st at 6 PM (European time) And finally, I’ve made a detailed character sheet for Yume, so now I have a better guide for her. And yes, you can already start to see some romantic stuff here—after all, it’s a fanfic. I had a few doubts about whether I’m doing the fanfic right, since I focus a lot on the lore and on giving Yume a proper story. A few days ago, I finally stopped talking to bots and tried looking for an Okegom fanfic (Spoiler: I didn’t find any new ones). I ended up reading an Ivlis x Reader from 2016, and I absolutely lost it laughing, because Y/N is just suddenly kidnapped and chained up out of nowhere with no context, and then Ivlis shows up and says, “I’ve decided—you’ll be my wife.” And Y/N literally says, “Okay” :D
(I spent half an hour laughing. I’m seriously about to do a ritual or some witchcraft just to be able to read a damn Okegom fanfic. I’m losing my mind.) And by the way, yes, the title is split — this chapter shows only one part. The other part will appear in the next chapter.❞꒱ ─ .✧

.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　.　　❝ I'm right across the dance floor❞
❝Like it was just last night❞
                                                                        ❝I didn't even get it why❞　　.　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　*　　　 　　　.　　　　　　.　　❝Why you gotta say goodbye?❞　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,　　　*　　⠀.　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　⠀.　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　 

It had already been over a month since you arrived in Ne-No-Kuni —that place you still weren’t sure whether to call a kingdom, a dimension, or simply… the place you ended up by accident. Although, by now, calling it an “accident” was starting to feel like an understatement. Like it was too simple to describe everything you’d been through. Everything you’d seen. Everything you’d lost.

Especially since that moment. Since you met her. That version of yourself — stranger, clearer, more broken and more whole all at once. And since, somehow, she had become a part of you.

Yes, you were changing. For the better. Or at least, that’s what you tried telling yourself every morning when you woke up alone in a room that still didn’t feel like yours, knowing you had nothing left.

Now, you felt… more energized. More awake. More alive. More optimistic, even. Which was basically a miracle, coming from you. But that didn’t mean old habits vanished overnight. Your cowardice was still there, as stubborn as ever, whispering in your ear not to make waves. Not to speak up. Not to take too many risks. Your tendency to avoid real life was still as strong as your new desire not to give up.

One version of you fighting against the other. But at least you weren’t alone anymore.

Since becoming Chlomaki’s official assistant —and also her familiars— your routine had become… strange, but consistent. Most days started in the large, dark Kurotsuno mansion, where you slept in a room far too big and quiet for your taste. You often wondered if it bothered her having you there, but she hadn’t kicked you out yet, so you assumed you didn’t annoy her enough to be worth the trouble.

Almost every morning, Anten would accompany you out, guiding you through the forest in his snake form. Curled around your shoulder like you were a walking coat rack. He didn’t talk much, but his presence was oddly calming. Cold, yes —literally and figuratively— but steady. Like a reminder that not everything in this place was a carnival. Well… it was a carnival, really, but at least Anten was somewhat… tolerable. Mostly talk, little action.

Your job as an assistant essentially boiled down to making Chlomaki’s life easier. Or at least less chaotic. Cleaning up messes, gathering ingredients, tidying rooms that suspiciously smelled like sulfur, running errands… and taking out trash.

A lot of trash.

Which brings us to today.

You, on the floor, surrounded by dusty boxes full of books, dried-up quills, empty jars, and objects you couldn’t even identify. All the things Chlomaki once thought might be “useful” and now just took up space. Things that, while hopefully not cursed, definitely smelled like they were.

And next to you, your friend —who somehow you instantly clicked with— your accidental confidante, and probably the only normal person you’d met in this world: Lobco.

Well, “normal” was relative. She was a lobster-shrimp hybrid, with red hair and a long red shrimp tail poking out from under her skirt. But still, out of all the creatures in Ne-No-Kuni, she was the sanest. And for some reason, you’d become inseparable. If Chlomaki sent Lobco to do something, you went with her. It wasn’t official. It just… started happening. And now, if one of you showed up without the other, people asked questions.

“God,” you mutter, coughing after a cloud of dust rises as you pull out another useless book. “Do all witches have this hoarding impulse, or is it just our witch?”

“I hope not…” Lobco replies, her voice low and dull like she’s very tired of living this exact reality. She kneels in front of another box, lifting some kind of eyeball in a jar with both hands. “This has been here for years. I’m pretty sure it’s watching us…” She shudders slightly at the creepy object.

“Don’t look it in the eye,” you say dramatically, turning your head with mock horror. Both of you laugh, though Lobco lets out a small sneeze from the dust, which triggers an inevitable cough from you. You quickly step away, shaking off your black gloves.

The dust is everywhere. You can even feel it between your teeth. You cough a little more before dropping back onto the floor with a defeated thud.

“Yu?” Lobco asks, using the nickname she gave you — the first time anyone had ever given you one. She tilts her head slightly. Her voice is a little worried, but also curious. “Do you still have to wear those gloves all the time?”

You glance at your hands, black to the wrists thanks to the gloves. Instinctively, you make a motion to take them off… then stop. With a sigh, you begin adjusting them clumsily without looking —almost like a reflex.

“Yeah. We still don’t know why it happens,” you say with a shrug. “Chlomaki’s run like twenty tests. From uh… some magic thing to some other magic thing —I don’t know magic. But nothing. Every time I touch someone without the gloves… the same thing happens. So yeah, I’m keeping them. I’m used to them now. They’re like a second skin. A cheap, ugly skin that doesn’t match with anything, but still.”

Lobco nods slowly. Then she stares at you and asks, completely serious:
“Have you tried other colors?”

You blink.

“…What?”

“I don’t know. Maybe black just absorbs all the bad vibes. What if you got pink gloves? They’d be cuter.”

“Oh, sure. And if I smack someone with a flip-flop, maybe that’ll align their chakras too.”

You both laugh, and for a moment, the heavy work and discomfort are forgotten.

The silence that follows is a comfortable one. Almost domestic. Lobco goes back to digging through the junk. You watch her, and for an instant, the thought hits you harder than expected:

You feel good here.

Not happy. Not completely. But… alive. Present. With a small sense of purpose. Something you used to feel only in fleeting moments back in your world. Like you were watching life from behind glass.

Maybe there’s no going back. Maybe everything you saw in that black place was real.

But maybe —just maybe— you didn’t need to return to keep moving forward.

With Lobco, with Chlomaki, with all their weird little creatures… even with your gloves.

And that, to you, was its own kind of miracle.
Even if you feel bad —you never thought leaving your home, which is possibly now destroyed, would hit you like this. But thanks to this routine, you don’t have much time to dwell on it or to be alone with your thoughts.

You pause when you reach the bottom of one of the boxes, like something —a sixth sense, a twist in your chest, or just a suspiciously literary hunch— warns you that what’s peeking out isn’t like the rest.

There, buried among books with chewed-up spines, torn maps, and items that probably belong in a museum (or a bonfire), is a different kind of volume.

It’s not especially bright or magical at first glance. But there’s something… disturbingly familiar.

You reach in carefully, pushing aside a few old feathers and a skull-shaped mug (seriously, who stores that in a box of books?), and with a touch, you confirm what you already suspected: the cover is made of real leather. A material that seems rarer here than a staircase without tentacles. The book is white, with golden detailing that still shines a bit. Like someone, somewhere in time, wanted it to survive intact.

But it’s not the color or the craftsmanship that makes your fingers tremble slightly.

It’s the symbol.

On the cover, precisely embroidered, is a figure you could never forget. A four-pointed star, its top and bottom points piercing through two crescent moons. One larger, curved upward; the other smaller, curved downward. The kind of symbol that burns itself into your retina. And in your case… into your memory.

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine like an icy current that didn’t ask for permission to enter.
“…Is something wrong?” asks Lobco, who had been organizing another box beside you, but now watches with her head slightly tilted and an expression of mild concern. Her tone holds that usual gentle, restrained air, as if she’s always walking carefully across a hanging bridge.

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. You just breathe in a little deeper, like the air has suddenly become harder to take in.

Finally, you look at her. Not directly in the eyes—that feels too intimate for this moment. But just enough for her to know you’re not joking.

“It’s just… this book belonged to my grandmother,” you murmur.

Your voice sounds younger as you say it. As if just remembering brings you back to being that eight-year-old girl, curled up on the couch while the rain tapped on the windows and your grandmother sipped overly sweet tea. Your eyes lose focus for a moment, pulled back to the past like someone flicked on an old projector inside your head.
You were eight. Your mom worked long hours, so you spent entire afternoons with your grandmother. She would make you fresh orange juice, let you fall asleep in her lap while she knitted. And on her bookshelf, there was always that book. White, closed, dusty, lonely. A relic with no story.

She had that book. It always sat on the highest shelf—out of reach, but never out of sight. And you would always ask, “What’s that book for, grandma?”

And she, always with that warm and tired smile, would shake her head.
“Not even I know, sweetheart. But it’s been there so long, I feel bad throwing it away.”

She didn’t open it. She didn’t read it. She didn’t touch it. She just let it be.

And now, here it was.
In a place that shouldn’t even exist.

“Is that… possible?” Lobco asks quietly, clearly as stunned as you. Though she’s not human and doesn’t come from your world, the confusion on her face is universal.

“I don’t know,” you admit, more to yourself than to her.

Almost as if pushed by an invisible spring, your hands—the ones always covered by those black gloves that are now practically part of your identity—move on their own. You open the book. Lobco leans in with you, curious, trying to see what’s inside.

The first page is… alive.
Not literally. It doesn’t move or breathe. But there’s something strange. The handwritten letters vibrate slightly, as if they refuse to stay still. The paper is aged: yellowed, rough, its edges chewed by time. But there’s writing.
A lot of writing.

“What the…? There’s handwritten stuff in here! My grandma’s copy was empty,” you exclaim, eyes wide. You flip through the pages quickly, almost frantic, like you’re afraid they’ll vanish again. Every page is full. Full of symbols, words, strange drawings. Runes. Diagrams. Fragments of something that’s only just starting to make sense.

“Yu… I don’t see anything,” says Lobco suddenly.

You freeze.
“What?”

She looks at the book again, confused. “I see blank pages…”

You look at her, then the book, then back at her. You stammer something unintelligible. Your heart skips in a weird way. Is it you? The book? Some illusion?

Then a small gasp makes you snap your head around.

Lobco has fallen backward—not hurt, but clearly startled.

“Yume… your… your hands!”

You stare at her, confused—and then you see it.
Or more accurately, you feel it first. A burning tingle rising through your arms.

You tear off your gloves without thinking, like someone ripping off a bandage before checking the wound.

And what you see takes your breath away.

In the center of each palm, a four-pointed star glows with intense, white light. From there, wavy lines flow along your arms like veins of liquid light—organic, pulsing—as if something inside you has finally awakened. The branches spread and twist beneath your skin, glowing.

The light is so bright it reflects in your eyes. You see yourself mirrored in the page, with those white sparks trapped in your pupils like two tiny suns.

The book reacts too.

The once-blurred words clarify. The letters rearrange themselves, the symbols begin to translate. Everything makes sense—or starts to. You see names. Instructions. Whole paragraphs speaking of things you don’t understand. The vertigo hits.

You gasp. Your hands shake. The book slips from your fingers with a dull thud.

You scramble backward across the floor like you’ve just touched fire. You shut the book with a kick. The marks vanish. All that’s left is the trembling.

You look at your hands. They’re bare. Human again. But they still burn, as if they remember being something else.

And then, you feel warmth.

Lobco kneels beside you, without hesitation, and takes your bare hands into hers. Her fingers are colder than yours, like seawater. But the gesture is warm. Comforting. Human—or as human as someone like her can be.

“…Okay, that’s not normal,” you mutter, voice caught between nerves, relief, and resignation.

“Are you okay?” Lobco asks, still holding your hands. Her eyes are sincere. She’s not afraid of you. Or of what you just showed.

You look at her carefully. Ever since you arrived, your touch has affected non-humans in strange ways. Some calm down. Others remember forgotten things. Some even fall asleep. But Lobco doesn’t seem to mind…

She smiles—just barely.

“Yeah… don’t worry. I don’t fall asleep when I touch you,” she says with a soft, sad smile. “It actually makes me happy. Because I remember things. Things about my home. My family…”

You swallow hard. She’s told you before. Her home, in the sea. Her family. The music of the waves. The colors that shift with the currents. You can’t help it. You hug her tight. A clumsy, warm, spontaneous hug. The kind that comes straight from your chest without asking permission.

“Oh, Lobco, I love you so much,” you whisper against her neck, cheek pressed to hers. She makes a soft, barely audible sound and flails her arms awkwardly.

“I love you too, but let go!” she stammers, clearly overwhelmed by the intensity of your hug.

“Never!” you laugh, hugging her even tighter.

And for a moment, the strangeness stops being scary. Because even if you’re lost in an impossible world, surrounded by magic and books that know you better than you know them…
You’re not alone.

You have Lobco.
Right now, she’s the one person you love the most. The one who makes you feel like you’re not going crazy. Who brings you back to that familiar feeling of having a normal friend.

[. . .]

Some time passed. Not much, but enough for your head to spin like an emotional washing machine. Eventually, with a sigh that was meant to sound resigned and not just nervous, you decided to put the book away. Reluctantly. Very carefully. Not because you were scared of it, of course not. Just... as a precaution. Just in case. Because, well, glowing hands, strange symbols, the tremor in your chest—those things don’t usually scream “everything’s fine.”

Though honestly, if it were up to you, the book would already be burning happily in a bonfire.

“Better look at it later… when I feel less like screaming at the sky,” you muttered as you closed the box with a little more force than necessary.

Lobco had left for a moment when someone knocked at the door. Her soft steps made barely any noise, but you didn’t need to see her to imagine how she likely shrank a little before opening it. She was Lobco, after all. What you did hear clearly was the door slamming open without any kind of delicacy, and a familiar voice walking in unapologetically, without pause, as if the world belonged to him and everyone else was just a minor inconvenience.

“What are you doing here now?”

You crossed your arms the moment Anten stepped across the threshold like he owned the place. He walked with the confidence of someone who’d never asked permission for anything in his life. And the worst part was, that was probably true.

Lobco stumbled to the side, shoved out of the way without a second thought. Her small body ended up pressed against the wall like accidental decoration. The poor girl didn’t even dare protest.

You glared at him. He looked at you like you’d just kicked his ego. The two of you looked absolutely allergic to tolerating each other.

“I’m not here for fun,” he grunted, shoving a hand in his suit pocket with that lazy-yet-alert air he seemed to have perfected. “They sent me to get you. There’s another human in Ne-No-Kuni. Same uniform as you had when you got here. Might be from your world.”

The surprise hit you like a bucket of ice water. You looked at him, then at Lobco, still backed up against the wall and visibly uncomfortable, her eyes flicking between you two with that mix of fear (because demon) and curiosity that only she could make look adorable.

“What? Another human? Here?” An electric jolt ran through your body, and suddenly you felt light, like your feet barely touched the ground. “Damn it, you should’ve started with that! Let’s go!”

You grinned with so much excitement it was like someone had turned on all the lights inside you. The idea of having someone else from your world here—someone who could understand you without long explanations or weird comparisons—felt like a glass of cold water in the middle of a desert. What if they were your age? What if they were someone you could just... talk to, laugh with, share memories of a world that was starting to feel increasingly distant?

You rushed forward eagerly—but just as you took a step, you felt a tug at your shirt. You stumbled, taking a couple of clumsy steps back to avoid falling flat on your face. When you turned, you saw Anten gripping the back of your shirt with one of his pitch-black hands.

“Huh?”

The pull had been firm enough to make you lose balance slightly. You turned with a raised brow, finding his inky-black hand clutching your clothes like you were some unruly puppy.

“Not so fast,” he said with that smug smirk that screamed annoying you is my favorite hobby. “I was told to come with you. You can’t go alone.”

Oh, of course. Because clearly you needed a babysitter with a bad attitude and zero qualifications for caring about anyone else’s safety.

You scowled. You raised your fist near your face in warning, but you didn’t stop there. With a burst of agility even you didn’t know you had, you grabbed one of the old books off the nearest shelf, lifted it as high as your arms could stretch—because demons apparently all come with the “unnecessarily tall” gene—and WHAM! You slammed the cover right into his face.

The sound was glorious.

“Well, then I’d rather go alone.”

Anten stood still for a second. The book remained perfectly balanced on his face, like an improvised mask. You stared at him. Then burst into laughter. The kind that starts in your chest and rises up your throat, uncontrollable and honest. You laughed so hard your stomach started to ache and your eyes teared up.

Lobco, meanwhile, looked caught between the urge to intervene and the desire to vanish. Her eyes darted from you to Anten as if she were waiting for one of you to explode—and she wasn’t sure which one would go off first.

“Damn human,” Anten growled, voice low and annoyed, pulling the book off his face with an expression that might’ve been scary if you weren’t too busy laughing like a child in an amusement park.

His red eyes gleamed with irritation, but also something that wasn’t just anger… maybe disbelief. Or resignation. Or both.

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist. His hand—black-skinned with white nails—clamped down firmly. Not enough to hurt, but enough that you felt it. You staggered slightly forward, one leg stepping ahead to keep your balance. And then—proximity.

Way too much proximity.

Anten stood right in front of you, mere inches away. His ember-red eyes locked onto yours, like he was trying to dismantle you with just a look. But you were already immune. You gave him one last giggle, then, as a finishing touch, winked and stuck your tongue out, a teasing smile curving your lips.

He blinked.

That little gesture—so unapologetically you—seemed to rattle him more than it should have. His gaze dropped—quickly but clearly—from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips. As if he’d suddenly realized how close you were, his breath caught. You just laughed. Part of his mind whispered: It would be so easy…

He let go of your wrist slowly. Not with a jerk. Like his hand didn’t want to let go. Like that small connection had been more than he intended.

“Let’s go. And put your gloves on,” he muttered, turning his back too quickly. As if that might undo the moment, clearly trying to hide something he didn’t even fully understand himself.

You blinked. Looked down. Oh, right. Your gloves. You’d taken them off after what happened with Lobco.

“Oops! Right!” you laughed awkwardly as you pulled them on. Then turned to your friend, still frozen in place.

She still looked uncomfortable. Sometimes she flinched when Anten was around, like his shadow was heavier than his presence.

“Coming with me, Lobco?”

She immediately shook her head, hands flailing like the very idea scared her.

“N-no… I’ll stay to… to finish cleaning. And… I’ll tell Chlomaki what happened,” she said softly, offering you a timid but genuine smile.

You nodded and smiled back, giving her a small wave—a playful wiggle of your fingers.

“Tell her I didn’t break anything. Yet.”

Then you followed after Anten, who was already opening the door. You noticed how he avoided looking directly at you. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was... nervous?

You pulled up your cloak’s hood before stepping out, the hallway wind blowing like it was announcing a new story—one you didn’t yet know whether would be good or dangerous.

“So… what’s the other human’s name?”

Anten didn’t look back when he answered.

“Kurumi.”

And suddenly, without knowing why, your steps grew heavier.

That name… You already knew it.

𝑬𝑿𝑻𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑬

Kurotsuno carefully placed her camera on the bar, as if it were far too important an object to be treated with anything less than reverence. The soft click of metal against wood was barely audible over the quiet murmur that filled the room. She sat with the feline calm that always defined her, her coat falling heavily over the stool, cloaking her like a discreet shadow. Her eyes swept over the room with a neutral expression that barely hinted at something deeper.

Maekami, the bar’s owner, and a demon with white hair as meticulous as the polished decor of his establishment—welcomed her without a word at first. With the ease of routine, he placed a glass of her usual drink in front of her. He only broke the silence a few seconds later, when he noticed a subtle shift in Kurotsuno’s posture, barely perceptible tension in her shoulders, a slower exhale than usual. He raised an eyebrow, genuine curiosity in his gaze.

"Miss Kurotsuno... is something troubling you?" he asked in a measured voice, as though not wanting to disturb her thoughts. He knew reading that girl was like trying to decipher a stone carved by time: hard, cryptic, and nearly immovable.

Kurotsuno turned her head slightly, her pupils catching the dim barlight like those of a nocturnal predator. Her voice was a calculated whisper, restrained yet no less serious for it.

"I was thinking about something Hanten told me recently… Apparently, she was quite surprised to see Anten so… attached to a certain someone." She didn’t name the person. Not out of carelessness, but caution. In a bar—even one as discreet as this—walls could have ears, and trust was a currency too expensive to spend lightly. But Maekami caught the omission immediately. His expression didn’t change, but his hand paused for a beat in its motion.

"You mean the human?" he asked quietly. "At this point, that “rumor” is already on everyone’s lips."

Kurotsuno gave the slightest of nods, her fingers wrapped around the glass without drinking from it. She stared into the liquid as if expecting it to offer her an answer.

"I’m trying to keep it just that... a rumor. But... The scent of a human around here stands out far too much. It’s not like there are many left.

Maekami resumed his work with mechanical ease, though he was clearly listening closely. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped into a deeper, more serious register.

"So far, that girl has flown under the radar without any real trouble. No one is actively hunting her. And you’ve done a fine job keeping her invisible. Better than most could, all things considered."

Kurotsuno lowered her gaze for a moment. His words were reassuring, yes—but not enough to silence the weight that was slowly growing inside her like a storm on the horizon.

"I have a feeling… that won’t last much longer" she murmured.

_{𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : This story contains sensitive and potentially disturbing topics. Please be advised that the harmful actions portrayed by the characters are not meant to be romanticized, excused, or normalized in any way. These actions are fictional and should not be replicated or justified in real life. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes or if something is not understood, English is not my first language!}

_{𖦹 THANK YOU FOR READING! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts! Comments help keep me motivated to write. ╰(*°▽°*)╯}

Chapter Text

                                                                                                                       𝓝𝓞𝓣𝓔!

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˚₊‧꒰❝ I almost cried while writing it. Even while writing the first part, I realized that no human in Okegom, whether it's Yonaka, Kurumi, If, or Shrimp, human characters who are in a world outside the human one, is happy or comes out unscathed. There isn't a single human who ends up well. It's the three in the morning. I'm uploading this at this hour on Friday because in the afternoon I'll finally touch grass after spending the whole summer in my room.❞꒱ ─ .✧

.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚⠀  　　,　　　.❝ Shooting stars never fly for me❞
❝My heart's on Mars, kinda hard to see❞
                                                                        ❝But you know, you know I'll see you again❞　　.　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　*　　　 　　　.　　　　　　.　　　　   ❝You know, you know I'll see you again❞　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,　　　*　　⠀.　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　⠀.　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　 

You had a thousand questions buzzing around in your head like bees trapped in a box. Questions for Kurumi, the other human. The one who, like you, had fallen into this twisted world called Ne-no-Kuni. It was the first time in a month that you’d be able to talk to someone from your own reality—someone who shared memories with you without needing everything explained from scratch. And yet, something about all of this kept you from feeling fully excited.

Because, from the little you’d managed to squeeze out of Anten, you knew Kurumi had been living as a vampire’s pet. Yes, pet. With a collar and everything. His name was Sirius. You could barely say his name without frowning. In Ne-no-Kuni, it seemed completely normal to treat conscious humans—people with emotions, memories, and free will—like purebred dogs. It made you sick. And angry. And afraid. Because no matter how much you hated that logic… you knew you were too powerless to fight it.

You weren’t a hero. You didn’t even know how to defend yourself. You were just Yume.

The walk to Sirius’s mansion was long, muddy, and cold. The rain hadn’t stopped in days; every step felt like stomping on a rotting sponge. Your boots were soaked, your fingers freezing, and even Anten—walking silently beside you—didn’t make the slightest complaint about the weather. Which was... unusually mature of him. Maybe he knew this visit wasn’t just a social call. Maybe—though he’d never admit it—he understood that something inside you was getting ready to break.

To your surprise, when you finally reached the house, Anten didn’t cause any unnecessary drama. No fights, no threats, no snide insults exchanged with random demons. He just stood by the door, arms crossed, keeping watch. It wasn’t exactly chivalrous, but given his track record, it was almost touching.

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” he said before you walked in. “Not a second more. That’s all that bloodsucker agreed to.” And even though his tone was dry, he didn’t sound angry with you. More like... resigned.

You nodded without a word.

The door opened without needing to knock. The mansion was silent, suffocating, too elegant for someone like you. You felt like a muddy stain walking into a museum. But it didn’t take long to spot her.

There was Kurumi, sitting on a blood-red sofa—the same girl you’d seen weeks ago on a “missing” poster at the station, alongside Yuri. The image superimposed itself in your mind: that blurry photo of her smiling softly in her school uniform, with life in her eyes. And now...

Now, there was only a ghost.

The same uniform, yes. But now with a red leather collar around her neck, with a small metal tag that probably had her name engraved on it, like a luxury pet. And her expression… you couldn’t look at it for too long without feeling your soul shrink.

Her eyes—pink, dark, lifeless—were fixed on you. There was no fear, no joy. Just a resignation that seemed to have moved in permanently.

You sat next to her, a little awkward, painfully aware that the sofa probably cost more than your entire house. Your voice came out forced, nervous.

“Hi… I’m Yume.”

She interrupted you quickly, without ceremony.

“I know. We went to the same school. I saw you a few times in the hallways.”

You looked at her, surprised. You scratched your cheek awkwardly, trying to remember if you’d ever noticed her.

“Oh… really? I guess I was probably too sleep-deprived back then to notice anything that wasn’t a direct pop quiz threat.”

Kurumi didn’t smile, but something in her eyes seemed to soften for a moment. You gathered your courage.

“So… how did you end up here? How… did you get to this world?”

She looked down for a moment, then answered with a chilling calm:

“It was Sirius. He brought me.”

She said it like she was talking about a school trip. Like she’d hopped on a train and woken up in another world.

“You mean… the one who kidnapped you,” you corrected with a tense half-smile, even though it wasn’t funny. You let out an awkward laugh, then shook your head. You had to tell her. Whether she already knew or not, she deserved to.

“Kurumi… our world. The human one. It’s gone. Everything went to hell. We might… we might be the only ones left.”

She simply looked down, her hands clenched on her knees. She nodded. No drama. No tears. That surprised you, since even you could barely say it without choking up.

“I see,” she said softly.

Her voice dropped an octave.

“Though… I didn’t really see myself going back anyway. It’s already impossible. For me. For you. With or without our world.”

You looked at her, confused. She stood slowly and walked toward the window. Outside, the rain hit the glass with a persistence that felt personal. Kurumi placed one hand against the windowpane and stared at the gray sky.

“This world… the vampires, the demons, everything that walks here… it drags you down. If you get too close, you sink. Humans here aren’t people. Even if we try. We end up as captives. As tools. And no matter what you do… in the end, you always lose.”

You said nothing. You didn’t know what to say to that. The worst part was… a part of you understood her. You understood the weight in her voice. You understood the exhaustion in her posture.

“That’s pretty… dramatic,” you tried to joke, looking away to avoid the lump in your throat.

Kurumi turned to you, and her pink eyes pierced through you like needles.

“You think so?”

You didn’t know what to say. You swallowed hard.

“But… why don’t you try to escape?” you finally asked. “I can’t imagine being a… pet is something you actually want.”

She let out a dry laugh. Not even a laugh, really—just a sarcastic exhale, barely a sound.

“It’s not that easy to escape them. Not Sirius… not any of them. You think you can run, but they always catch you.”

The conversation fell into a heavy silence. You looked at her shoulders, her posture, the way her pink twin-tails fell down her back. She wasn’t broken. But she was… fractured. In many pieces.

And the worst part was that you couldn’t do anything. You had no way to save her. And you knew she didn’t expect you to.

Before the twenty promised minutes had even passed, you already wanted to leave that house. You didn’t even wait for Anten. You walked out into the rain, letting it soak you like divine punishment. You stepped into puddles without looking, lips pressed tight, heart tighter.

Anten caught up with you a few seconds later.

“Brat,” he muttered, clearly annoyed. “Can’t wait five minutes without making a scene?”

You didn’t respond. You leaned against the nearest lamppost, one hand on the cold metal, and finally, your body gave in. Dry heaving. Like your very soul was trying to escape. You felt nauseous, disgusted, sad, furious—all of it tangled into an impossible knot.

Anten looked at you. He said something else, but you didn’t hear it.

“Go ahead…” you murmured, not looking at him, your voice cracked under the weight of what you’d just seen.

He stood still for a moment, then sighed. He didn’t say anything else. He left—trusting you, maybe hopefully, maybe just tired—believing that after a month here, you’d be able to find your way back on your own.

[ . . . ]

After a while, you managed to calm down… or at least, that’s what you made yourself believe. You took a few deep breaths, wiped your damp hands over your face, and tilted your head back, letting the icy rain wash away what little was left of your thoughts. You didn’t know exactly how long it had been since you spoke with Kurumi. Half an hour, maybe? An hour? Ne-No-Kuni was always a dark place, but now it was clearly night. The sky looked duller, heavier. The puddles on the ground reflected muted tones, and the streetlamps had turned on with that warm glow that barely scraped through the dense darkness of the streets.

You needed something to anchor you. Something warm. Someone. And thinking of Lobco was enough to draw a small smile on your tired lips. Just seeing her would be enough. Hearing her voice. Letting her fill, even briefly, the hole that had formed in your chest.

So you went to look for her, humming softly to yourself, swinging your arms as if trying to shake off the heaviness. Forcing a joy that didn’t feel entirely real, but at least helped you move forward.

"She’s probably still cleaning," you murmured, lifting your spirits a little.

You walked with your arms swinging, even pretending some enthusiasm—though not entirely. Just enough to fool yourself a bit.

Until you heard a scream.

You froze.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Lobco had a ridiculous fear tolerance. A moth, a shadow, the sound of a vase falling—any of those could pull a small yelp from her. It was part of her charm. But something about that sound… wasn’t the same. It was drier. Sharper. It had an edge that froze your blood. A knot formed in your stomach as you approached the alley the sound had come from.

You peeked your head around the corner slowly—and the world stopped.

There he was.

The same two-tailed demon. You recognized him instantly. Short blue hair, colorless pale skin, empty red eyes like dead fire. A sickening déjà vu hit you: the same demon who had chased you and Anten when you first fell into Ne-No-Kuni. But this time it was different. He wasn’t chasing anyone.

He had her pinned against a wall.

Lobco. Your Lobco. Your dear, skittish Lobco.

You didn’t quite understand what you were seeing until your brain forced comprehension. His hunched body over hers. His hand where it shouldn’t be… his hand was under her skirt. The trembling of your friend’s body. The muffled sound of her voice. She was crying. Begging. Calling for her father. Her broken voice repeating his name between wet sobs.

You couldn’t move.

Your chest tightened violently. Your heartbeat pounded like war drums in your skull. As if your heart were too big for your ribcage. You swallowed hard, trying to force yourself to act. But your hands were frozen. Then your legs. Your whole body began to disobey. It felt like gravity itself had doubled. Cold sweat, like a winter puddle, slid down your back.

You wanted to scream. But you couldn’t. Your throat wouldn’t respond. Your voice was trapped somewhere inside. It was like your body had separated from you. Like you were a puppet without strings, abandoned in a scene you didn’t understand how you had entered.

Your breathing turned erratic.

You could barely inhale without choking on the air. You clutched your chest, trying to slow your frantic heart. But that only made it worse. Your fingers twitched. The world around you shrank to a single sound: your own despair. Everything else—the rain, the distant murmur of voices, even the demon’s footsteps dragging Lobco away—faded into a distant hum. Like a bad dream you couldn’t wake from.

And then, you vomited.

Your body finally collapsed. You leaned against the wall, nearly falling to your knees. A deep pain shot through your stomach as you expelled the little you’d eaten that day. Your throat burned. Tears fell before you even noticed. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst came after.

You buried your hands in your hair, clutching tightly. You pulled at your bangs, the strands that hung beside your face. You shook yourself, as if physical pain could erase what you had just seen. But you couldn’t erase it. You couldn’t forget it. The image was nailed into your mind with rusted hooks. You wanted to smash your head against the wall.

“Why…?” you whispered with a trembling voice, more to yourself than anyone else.

“Why couldn’t I…? Why didn’t I do anything?”

You repeated those words, over and over, curled up into yourself like a broken record.

“Why?”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Why?”

The retching came again, drier this time, but just as painful. You felt empty. Disgusting. A coward. You’d always been one, hadn’t you? That girl who ran from her problems, who hid behind nervous smiles and dumb jokes. Who avoided talking about pain. Who pretended she was okay with everything.

A coward who had left her friend alone.

“Lobco…”

“Lobco… Lobco… I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” you whispered her name. It was almost a prayer. As if saying it could bring her back. As if she could appear again with her big eyes and tired face, telling you everything was okay. That it was just a nightmare.

But it wasn’t a nightmare. Your whole body hurt. Like someone had carved your chest open with a rusty knife. Like everything you were had been drained through a black hole in your chest.

With trembling legs, you stood up, using the walls for support, then the trees. As if the whole world were an impossible slope. You walked back toward Kurotsuno’s mansion. You didn’t know how your feet were still moving. Your whole body was dead weight. You felt empty. Hollow. Like a broken doll walking on inertia. Less than human.

And then… the sky changed.

As you walked, your eyes glued to the ground, shooting stars began to streak across the sky behind you—for the first time in Ne-No-Kuni. It had never happened before. Then, the rain, constant for days, simply stopped. No transition. It just ceased. But you didn’t look up. You kept walking, soaked, filthy, destroyed, eyes swollen, body on the verge of collapse—feeling like a traitor.

Tiny fragments of light crossed the sky. One, then another, then dozens. Hundreds. As if the heavens had decided to cry with you—but in the form of falling stars. The starry sky was part of you. Everyone in Ne-No-Kuni looked up. Even the cruelest demons, even the ten archdemons. And the devil himself, who had once again been drowning in his sorrow, confined to his bed in the castle, lifted his head in surprise, his violet eyes gazing up to see shooting stars for the first time.

𝑬𝑿𝑻𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑬

𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓑𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮

Lobco dragged her feet across the old, dusty room, her mood so low she could almost hear it dragging along behind her.
Once again, Chlomaki had been relentlessly teasing her with those weird jokes that only she seemed to find funny. To Lobco, they weren’t amusing. They were like little jabs that added up, reminding her just how out of place she sometimes felt.
She often thought of her home, of the salty sea where she was born, of the calm waves that once lulled her to sleep. Sometimes, she just wanted to go back. But there… who would be waiting for her? No one would miss her. No one would even notice she was gone.

The sudden sound of something falling broke the dusty silence of her thoughts.
Lobco jumped, gasping with her heart in her throat. Her fingers tightened around the broomstick, halting her mechanical sweeping. Her gaze immediately shifted to Yume, her new companion and friend, an oddly cheerful human who had burst into her routine like a ray of sunshine on a gray afternoon.

Yume was rubbing her head, wearing an expression somewhere between pain and mockery.

“I nearly cracked my head open with this box… amazing,” she said, and laughed like it was nothing.

Lobco watched her, puzzled and a little awestruck.
She didn’t understand how Yume could laugh at everything—even hitting her head. That lightness was something utterly foreign to her. Yume, on the other hand, seemed to find sparks in the ordinary, even in discomfort.

The human crouched to rummage through the contents of the fallen box, eventually pulling out a pen with a strange design—perhaps magical, or maybe just ridiculous. She smiled with that peculiar gleam in her eyes and walked over to Lobco, who had timidly resumed sweeping.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Lobco asked nervously as Yume gently took her by the arm.

Without another word, the human guided her to sit on the freshly swept floor. Lobco sat down without much resistance, confused but curious. Yume focused on her hand as if it were a blank canvas and began to draw on her hybrid skin with the eccentric pen.
The ink was cold at first, but Yume’s touch was warm.

Lobco watched her silently, brows slightly furrowed.
She didn’t know what was happening, but she didn’t mind. There was something comforting in that shared stillness.

“Look! It’s you!” Yume suddenly exclaimed, lifting Lobco’s hand so she could see.

In her palm was a smiling shrimp—ridiculously happy, with huge, shiny eyes.
It looked nothing like her, but for some reason, Lobco let out a soft laugh—one of those that slips out without permission. Her heart felt strangely light, as if that simple silliness had awakened something long asleep inside her.
As if, for a moment, she could remember what it felt like to be accompanied.

Yume’s smile widened when she saw Lobco laugh.

“You know what? We should buy matching bracelets or keychains!” she suggested with genuine excitement, as if it were the most thrilling idea in the world.

Lobco looked at her, eyes wide in surprise.
No one had ever wanted to have something matching with her. That simple suggestion was so unexpected, so absurd and sweet, that something lit up in her chest.
She felt a nostalgic warmth—the same one that used to accompany her childhood dreams of becoming a great witch someday.

“Yes! I’d love that,” she replied with an energy she hadn’t felt since she was ten. “Next time, let’s go together and buy something. Something cute—for both of us.”

In her mind, as she kept smiling, a quiet thought formed—one she didn’t dare speak aloud:

"Mom, Dad… I think I’ve finally found a real friend. I can’t wait for you to meet her."

_{𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : This story contains sensitive and potentially disturbing topics. Please be advised that the harmful actions portrayed by the characters are not meant to be romanticized, excused, or normalized in any way. These actions are fictional and should not be replicated or justified in real life. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes or if something is not understood, English is not my first language!}

_{𖦹 THANK YOU FOR READING! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts! Comments help keep me motivated to write. ╰(*°▽°*)╯}