"You wake up with blood on your hands, and no one remembers why. Not even you."
Minato District 9 – Dreamless Apartments
03:03 AM
The room was quiet, except for the sound of rain hitting the broken window.
The body lay curled near the corner, half her skull missing. In its place, blank parchment protruded like a crude, paper-thin mask covering what used to be thought and memory.
Hiragi stood alone under the flickering ceiling light, coat soaked, eyes steady.
Her name was Yukari Toma. A university student. Smart. Promising. Alive—until an hour ago.
But her death was not the first.
This was the fourth body.
All victims had one thing in common:
They died between 3:00 and 3:15 AM.
No external injuries.
No trauma.
Just part of their mind… replaced.
By paper.
A Pattern Begins to Form
At headquarters, Hiragi spread the files across his desk.
Four victims.
Four different districts.
But the same hollow space in their heads, the same impossible material no scanner could identify.
And more disturbing than the method of death—was what all four had written days before they died.
A dream journal. Each entry described the same place:
"A library built of whispers and ink. A red moon glows above. I can't remember why I'm there, but I always wake up before the librarian speaks."
The Red Library.
It wasn't a metaphor. Hiragi had seen that realm before.
In fragments.
In void-laced illusions.
And once, long ago, in the dreams of someone who never woke up.
The Red Library
With Yukari's diary as an anchor, Hiragi performed a Soul Recollection link. The device hummed as it pulled fragments of her dream into focus.
Suddenly, he was inside the Library.
Shelves as tall as buildings. Books bleeding ink. A hush deeper than silence.
The dream's architect revealed itself:
A figure in black, draped in robes made of burnt pages. Face hidden beneath a veil of written curses.
"Welcome, Sleeper," the librarian spoke.
"Your chapter ends here."
Then everything collapsed.
Hiragi was flung back into reality, gasping, blood dripping from his nose.
This wasn't just a residual dream. It was a weaponized illusion. A constructed realm built to overwrite souls.
A Name Emerges: The Pageburner
Suguru crashed into the office, holding two things: a crowbar and cup noodles.
"Bro! The news is saying people are dying from... dream aneurysms? Is that even a thing?"
"They're not dying in their sleep," Hiragi replied. "They're being rewritten."
"Dude, what?"
Hiragi showed him the parchment.
"This isn't normal paper. It's woven from spirit residue and intent. Someone's writing their names into oblivion."
Suguru blinked.
"…Sounds like Reina's crazy dream app might actually come in handy."
Hiragi looked at him sharply.
"Get me everyone who's accessed that app in the past three nights. I want every name. Every dreamer. Every log."
Suguru nodded, suddenly serious.
"On it."
Elsewhere: The Pageburner Begins the Next Chapter
Beneath the city, in an abandoned metro station no map acknowledged, a man sat in a ring of burning scrolls.
His eyes were cold. Unblinking.
Before him was a list. Names written in red.
He turned to the next one. Drew a line.
Target 5: Hiragi
Time: 03:13 AM
He whispered as he dipped his pen in black ink.
"The blade may wound the body.
But the story kills the soul."
Later That Night: Hiragi Begins to Dream
At precisely 3:12 AM, Hiragi felt it.
His room disappeared. His bed folded into darkness.
And then—
He was seated in a classroom.
But everything was wrong.
The ceiling bled words. Desks floated midair. Chalkboards whispered memories he didn't have. And in his hand—
A quill.
Writing by itself.
Each word draining him.
Across from him sat a girl—Sayaka. Or something wearing her face. She stared at him, wide-eyed.
"It's happening again," she whispered.
"We're not dreaming. We're being written."
And from beyond the windows, a voice echoed.
"Erase… or be erased."
To Be Continued...