The awakening was confusing. Yuki blinked several times, adjusting to the dimness of his room. The book still lay on his chest, cold to the touch. The reflection in the mirror, however, had changed. Rei was no longer just a distant, spectral figure: he was closer, his eyes fixed on Yuki with an indescribable mix of longing and torment.
Yuki felt his heart pounding, a pulse that echoed through his entire body, as if his will was trapped between fascination and fear.
The air grew heavier, charged with an energy that seemed to whisper promises and warnings. Rei moved closer slowly, without haste, as if measuring each step so as not to break the fragile balance between them.
"You don't have to fear me," Rei murmured, his voice a sigh that brushed Yuki's skin like a cold caress. "I'm here because something in you calls to me."
Yuki wanted to step back, but his legs seemed rooted to the ground. Rei extended his hand, and with an almost impossible movement, his finger touched Yuki's face, gently tracing his cheek.
The contact was cold but not unpleasant. There was in that touch a broken story, an ancient lament transmitted without words. Yuki closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash over him, aware of the danger but unable to pull away.
"What do you want from me?" he finally whispered.
Rei leaned in a little more, their foreheads nearly touching. Their breaths mingled, and Yuki felt a shiver run down his spine.
"I want you to help me remember," Rei said. "But it won't be easy. This house forgets nothing, nor forgives."
A sharp noise echoed in the hallway, and the presence of the house made itself felt immediately, as if watching with invisible eyes, monitoring every movement. Rei stepped back and smiled—a smile as melancholic as it was threatening.
"Now the real game begins."
Yuki knew he couldn't escape. This night would be only the beginning.