A gulp of sunlight slides down the throat like melting wax. The flame had been extinguished... this shadow is not mine. The protagonist stood straight, yet his shadow was moving. "I am standing still, so how is the shadow moving?" It feels as if ink spills from the hand onto the table.
Melted candle wax was lying on the bed... the dream breaks. "Was this just a dream?" But the ink was still there. A rasping sensation in the throat... I slowly rise. I look at my face in the mirror. Behind me, on the wall, that Note was written in blood. I turn back instantly—nothing was written there. I look in the mirror again; I see it once more. I turn back again—still nothing. It feels as if the dream has broken, but this didn't feel like a dream.
Ahhhhh..... the same ink is on my hand.
"A dream... I have been trapped in this world."
The heart was still beating fast... it beats with the 134 seconds. Tick-t
ick.