The storm hit before Atlas reached the mansion doors. Or so he thought he had.
"....I will fullfill your wish my son, I know who you met, who you wanna meet, your wish I will grant it...I will give you a peak at the wonders of this layer...."
It wasn't wind—it was a pull, a violent drag of the universe itself, as if invisible claws hooked into his ribs and yanked him backward.
Snow exploded outward in spirals of silver and black. The sky split in a clean vertical tear, opening like a wound.
Then the curse woke.
Black sigils lit up under Atlas's skin—violent, vicious, crawling like burning ink across his chest and neck. He staggered, breath ripping out of him as the world around him bent sideways.
The Sakura tree appeared again.
He hadn't walked toward it.
Reality had simply decided he belonged there.
