“Jin,” May said, rushing over. “Stay calm, I’m here. No one can hurt you.” Her voice, just like in the other world, soothed his worries.

Her hand brushed his hair, fingers sifting through his long locks. He felt the tingle on his scalp, his tensed shoulders lowered. “Was it the same nightmare again?”

Jin nodded, face in hands. “It was finally the night to reach the second tier. The tier of the Marionettes Whisper. You should have seen it May—” Jin tightened his fists in excitement. “—I was in the centre of the stage. You know how I always dreamed of being at the centre in a stage play? Well this time, I was. It was amazing. Everyone cheered and clapped. Sure, they wanted me to die. Wanted my Reflection to out and Fracture. But it was still a cool feeling. It was like I was meant to be up there.” Jin lightly punched his leg. “Like I was meant to walk.”

May listened on with a frown adorning her beautiful face.

“I absorbed all their emotions, using it to power myself. In the end, I succeeded. I reached the second tier. God, I felt so strong. My legs… were so powerful.”

May handed him a cup of water and sat on his bedside. “Remember what we’ve gone through, Jin? These hallucinations… they are an escape. They’re not real. You mustn’t fall under their spell.” She sighed. “Have you been taking your medication? Be honest with me, Jin. I don’t like liars.”

Jin squirmed. “I have.”

She looked at him good and proper.

“I really have,” Jin said honestly. “But the hallucinations just keep getting more… real.”

She nodded. “Then I’m sorry, Jin. But we’ll need to heighten the dose. It won’t be for long. Just long enough so that you can battle back the hallucinations on your own. We don’t want this to get worse, do you understand?”

Jin clenched his hand tight across the plastic cup. It first deformed, then cracked. Jin looked at it in shock as he dropped it on the floor. “I’m strong,” He mumbled to himself, flexing his forearm. He felt the strength, the same strength from when he had reached the second tier of the path of the Masquerade. But how? All of that was a dream, an hallucination, a creation of his own, twisted mind. None of it was real… and yet as he felt the strength course through his muscles, reality and imagination were merging together.

Pain assaulted his mind. He clutched his head just as the door opened again. The newcomer was the director. She looked back in worry, and said, “His condition has worsened.”

The director had the same face as his master. Masculine, sharp facial features with a long moustache. In the real world, he never wore a hat. His hair was black and grey, slicked back. He dragged over a chair, sat down, and brought out a tube of pills from his pristine lab coat pocket.

The director’s gaze was intense, assessing Jin as he twisted the pill tube slowly in his hands. “Is everything okay, Jin?” he asked, voice level, but firm. “We know how exhausting these hallucinations must be for you.”

Jin looked down, flexing his fingers. “I don’t know. I feel like I was... there. Like I reached some new level. It’s like I was in control. I felt powerful. But…” He stopped, glancing from May to the director, searching for understanding.

The director exchanged a quick look with May and leaned forward, his expression softening. “Jin, I know it’s hard to accept sometimes, but what you’re feeling—it’s just a symptom. Your mind is very convincing at conjuring sensations that feel real, but they’re illusions. Think of it like… a cruel trick your mind is playing.” He shook his head, adding softly, “That world is a figment, not reality.”

“But… it feels so real,” Jin insisted, his hands beginning to shake. “The power, the people, the rituals—I can feel them in my bones.”

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“That’s precisely why we need to help you distance yourself from it.” The director held out a few pills. “Take these, Jin. They’re designed to calm the mind, to make it clear. With time, that other place will fade, and you’ll realize what’s real and what isn’t.” He glanced at May. “It’s normal for someone in your state to think they can feel things that aren’t there. It’s why we’re here.”

May offered a reassuring smile, placing her hand on his. “Remember, we’re with you, every step. You don’t need to face this alone. Just try to let go of that other world… of the illusions.”

Jin’s eyes darted between them, his confusion and frustration mounting. He swallowed hard and finally nodded, taking the pills. He whispered, more to himself, “I just wish I knew what was real.”

The director gave him a steady look, his voice low. “Trust us, Jin. We’re here to help you find that truth.”

“The cup,” Jin said in sudden realization, frantically searching the floor. But it was gone. He leaned over the edge of his bed, nearly toppling out before May caught him.

“It was right here,” he insisted, his eyes wide with desperation. “I felt the strength from the other world. That wasn’t a hallucination.”

“Jin,” the director’s voice cut in, steady yet unyielding.

“The cup,” Jin repeated, nearly shouting. He turned to May, who looked back with a conflicted gaze. “You saw it. You were right there. You saw me crush it.”

May placed a hand on his arm, her touch soft but her expression firm. “Jin, I don’t know what you think you saw, but there was nothing there. See? No cup, no evidence. You’re letting these… episodes take over.” She offered a slight shake of her head. “Please, take your medication.”

“No.” Jin’s voice wavered, his fists clenching. “I know I’m stronger now. I reached the second tier.”

The director picked up a cup from the side, holding it out to him. “It was a cup like this one?”

Jin nodded slowly, eyeing the cup as if it held the last shreds of his sanity.

The director extended it. “Then show me. Crush it. Prove to us that you’re as powerful as you believe.”

Jin’s jaw tightened, his muscles coiling as he gripped the cup. He squeezed, focusing every ounce of strength—yet nothing happened. He pressed harder, his breath labored, veins bulging across his forehead, until finally his grip slipped, the cup unscathed.

May gently pried the cup from his hands, her look a mix of sympathy and restraint. He stared back in disbelief, crushed by the weight of a reality he couldn’t accept.

Head hung low, he mumbled, “I’ll take those pills now.”

The director nodded, his voice calm but cold. “Just a setback, Jin. Happens all the time. Take the pills, and you’ll feel better soon. We’ll return to our normal sessions once you’ve had some rest. Just hang in there, alright?”

Jin swallowed the pills, his body feeling as hollow as his hope. With each second, his limbs grew heavy, his thoughts dulling to a murky fog. Just as the world slipped away, his head throbbed, the room spinning, May’s muffled voice barely reaching him. “He’s having another episode.”

Darkness closed in, a cocoon that wrapped tight around him.

He woke with a start, drenched in sweat, the scent of cheap perfume and stale popcorn in the air. His heart hammered as he chanted, “This isn’t real. It’s not real.” But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took in his surroundings—a dim room of bunk beds, tent fabric overhead, a single wood-burning stove at the center. It was too silent, too empty. His heart sank.

A Night Tide.

The tent curtain flipped open, and Jin flinched, brandishing a nearby fire poker. May entered, her eyes glinting with worry. Her voice was hushed. “Why are you still in bed? It’s a Night Tide. Did you have another episode?”

Jin tensed, every nerve on edge. This isn’t real. This is all in my head. But he could feel the cool iron of the poker in his hand, hear the soft rustling of the tent. He tried to will himself back, but nothing happened.

“Quick,” May’s voice grew urgent.

He shook his head. “You’re not real.”

“What?” She blinked, taken aback.

“I’m not going. None of this is real.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a strange smile. “Not real?” Her laugh started light, then turned guttural, a sound far too dark for May’s gentle frame.

Jin’s back pressed against the rough fabric of the tent as he watched her jaw unhinge, splitting wide until her cheek began to tear, flesh pulling apart, her lower jaw dropping almost to her chest. Then something started crawling up her throat—a hairless baby’s head, grinning with sightless sockets.

The creature inside May’s twisted form giggled, its voice a hoarse, childish whisper. “That’s a funny joke. If this isn’t real, then you won’t mind if I take that body, will ya’?”

With a snarl, May’s arm splintered open, bone reshaping into a jagged blade as she lunged straight for him.