He thought they would encounter enemies or other dangers. That it would be an adventure like any other, a descent to explore another dungeon. Nothing could have prepared him for what he actually found.

  One moment they were walking through a void, and the next they were somewhere very specific. Four walls, lights—albeit dim... an inhabited space. Looking around, it didn’t take him long to reach a conclusion. His heart sank.

  "I wasn't expecting this," he said.

  "What do you think we should do?"

  "I don't know. But this is my apartment."

  "Oh, okay! Well, that's better. Isn't it?"

  "Better?" repeated James.

  Lea shrugged.

  "Well, it's a space you know well. You can see if there’s anything different. If anything stands out."

  He didn’t like it, but she was right. He admitted as much, nodding.

  "I told you I got kicked out," James murmured, not even angry.

  "I know," she replied. "It sucks. I’ve never been in a situation like that, and I hope I never will be. I’m sorry."

  James shook his head.

  "No, you’re right. That doesn’t matter now. It’s fine. I’m just a bit embarrassed," he admitted. "That you have to see how small it was. How little I could afford. And I couldn't even afford that." He sighed. "But anyway, you get it. It is what it is."

  "I understand."

  James began looking around, searching. There had to be something. There had to be a catch. There was no doubt about that. The alternative was that this was a trap, nothing more than a waste of time, and they hadn't gotten any closer to finding a way out of the dream. He didn’t like that alternative in the slightest. For obvious reasons.

  Lea also got moving, though she felt she was slower and clumsier than back at the house. Perhaps because she felt uncomfortable rummaging through his space, even though this was nothing more than a mental replica. She couldn't say she didn't understand it, but it was still inconvenient. But that was just a hindrance now.

  He couldn't help wondering: why here? Of all places. It couldn't be a conscious decision. A decision... they didn't know him. They couldn't have investigated him that much in all these days... in just a few days.

  But that was the least of it. The what was right before his eyes. And why? What was he supposed to see? What was supposed to... or perhaps better said... what had they hidden? Precisely in the places he wouldn't look?

  Ah! He had an idea.

  He didn't know if it was a good one or a bad one, but he would have to make do. It was what he had. If this was a perfect replica of his house, just as he had left it the day he was evicted... Well, from the eviction onwards...

  Then he knew where this place wouldn't want him to look.

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  A guess upon a guess. What other choice was there? It was all he had to work with.

  "I think I’ve found a way out. Don't look," James added, his voice trembling slightly, as if he were begging.

  Lea clearly had no idea why he was acting like that, but she just looked back at him and nodded.

  Her response alone made him relax considerably. He barely knew her, just like Mary’s group and Mary herself. But the little he knew of her inspired confidence. He wanted to believe, or perhaps needed to believe, that it would be a deserved trust.

  I guess it's time to find out, he thought, stepping into his room and closing the door behind him.

  What he was looking for, however, wasn't in the bedroom, but in the adjacent room; in the adjacent bathroom.

  Assuming he was right, of course.

  He opened the door. He was right. Unfortunately, he was right.

  He wanted to look away, to close his eyes. He couldn't.

  "Somehow, I imagined as much," he said. It would be a lie to add "out loud." It barely reached his own ears.

  His whole body was numb. That was the only word that came to mind. Simply numb.

  And all by chance. He had guessed it as soon as he realized they were in a replica of his apartment... Well, rather, he had assumed it was some kind of defense system using his worst memories. And he had hit the nail on the head.

  Why was this memory so bad?

  Well, for starters, the bathtub was full of water. And the water was filling with red.

  That was because the person inside was barely a person. He had cut his wrists; he was barely hanging on. Of course, the person who had almost taken the easy way out was him.

  Although convinced he was fine, as always, one day, a long time ago, his wires just got crossed and he had decided to try and end it all.

  It hadn't been a cry for help, a fake attempt, or anything like that. Only luck had prevented him from dying in the bathtub of his filthy little bathroom, bleeding out like an idiot. Just luck.

  The closest thing he’d had to a friend—that is, in real life—had stopped by. And instead of saying "well, he's not answering, I'll come back another day," he had worried. He had bothered to come in, and he knew enough about him to grab the spare keys.

  A cluster of events equivalent to a miracle. Looking at it that way, the fact that he was still alive was a miracle. That way, he had managed to appreciate his life better. But that didn't take away the fragility of things, how close he had been to disappearing forever.

  He didn't want to be this person. Not anymore.

  He wanted to be okay, and he wanted anything but to look back.

  But, of course, this place knew that things wouldn't go the way he wanted them to.

  James sighed.

  And he pulled the body out of the bathtub, just as that friend would have done back in the day. He supposed he had been too far gone to remember, given the blood loss, and nothing more.

  James might be trash and have all kinds of problems, but he had never done drugs. He hadn't fallen that low, even then. Although he had managed to hit rock bottom anyway, letting his life slip through his fingertips along with the few people he had cared about before this.

  But what mattered was that he was here. And that he didn't have to keep being this, this ghost in human shape. Someone nobody would miss, who barely left a mark on the tapestry of existence. He could be a complete person; it was his right, and he was perfectly capable.

  He just had to leave this behind, where it belonged.

  "I am not this person anymore," James said.

  It didn't matter what had happened in the past. It was part of him and always would be, but it didn't have to define him. He was grateful Lea had listened to him, that she hadn't followed him in, because no one needed to see this. It had to disappear without further spectacle.

  The head of his copy disappeared almost completely, covered by the same energy that had brought them here.

  Bingo.

  "Lea, come here. I think I found the exit—" he was going to say, but he never finished the sentence.

  Because everything vanished and, a split second later, he sat up with a start. Eyes wide open, awake.

  He was back in his bed, finally out of the dream. But, fuck, that didn't mean he could relax. He had to hurry. Hurry.

  He shot out toward the bedroom where Lea and the others were. Clad in the Ash Raven armor, gripping his sword with both hands.

  He felt strong and capable of killing anything that got in his way. That guy's thugs, or thug, wouldn't stop him. James would win, he would save everyone, and he would cut that fucking cursed bastard's head off.

  James reached the others' room immediately. Well, "immediately" was saying a lot, but just in time to see a hooded figure with a hand raised, armed with a dagger.