The streets pulsed with the familiar rhythm of the evening city: cars rolling by in steady streams, laughter floating from café patios, and the occasional bark of a distant dog. Yet for Ryu, everything felt muted, as though the air itself had thickened.

He walked with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, boots striking against the cracked pavement. Each breath tasted bitter. The gnawing sense of wrongness clung to him, heavy and persistent.

Of course he knew what was wrong.

Well, he knew only what he saw, at least.

His mind reeled with fragmented impressions. Something had flickered—twisted reality into a warped reflection. And worse, the city hadn't noticed. No one had.

It was just him.

The flicker wasn't an illusion, he knew that much. His instincts were too sharp to mistake something so visceral for a mere trick of light.

But there was something else.

The nightmare.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, brow furrowing. He couldn't remember it, but it had left him raw, frayed at the edges. The weight of it still pressed against his ribs like a bruise that refused to fade.

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'What the hell was that thing in the nightmare?'

His lips thinned. The thought shouldn't have surfaced, but it clawed its way back into his consciousness, relentless and jagged.

'No—was it even a nightmare?'

Ryu's fingers curled into fists inside his coat. His steps slowed. The flicker, the twisted shadows, the heaviness gnawing at his chest—it didn't feel like a coincidence.

'Shit, what do I do? Can I even do anything?'

His breathing quickened, the cold air burning in his lungs. Panic hovered just at the edge of his thoughts, waiting to pounce.

'Think calmly. Come on. Calm down, idiot.'

He stopped walking and stood at the edge of a dimly lit intersection, shoulders rigid. A car rumbled by, headlights momentarily washing over his tense frame.

His knuckles ached from clenching his fists too hard. Slowly, deliberately, he released the tension.

Calm. Control. Those were the rules he lived by.

But it was slipping.

This wasn't like him.

He was, without a doubt, in a state of chaos.

His gaze flickered to the skyline, eyes narrowing. The stars were hidden behind a veil of dark clouds. A faint buzzing sound hummed in the air, almost imperceptible but constant.

It grated against his senses.

His instincts whispered that something had changed, but without proof, it was just paranoia. And paranoia was dangerous—it made you reckless.

Ryu exhaled through his nose and forced himself to keep moving. The weight in his chest didn't vanish, but he buried it beneath the cold mask he'd worn for as long as he could remember.

The flicker was gone, and the nightmare was just a scar on his thoughts.

At least for now.