I didn't wake to the alarm, but to the heaviness in my left hand.
When I opened my eyes, the sun slapped my face with light that was a bit too honest. The wall clock read twenty past seven, and my ceiling fan stared down like a silent witness to a night I'd rather not recall in detail.
I kicked off the blanket and looked at my wrist.
The metal watch from last night—the one supposedly for secret agents—was still there, its blue light pulsing softly like it was breathing.
I pressed its button. Nothing.
I tried to take it off. No luck.
"Fantastic. I have an alien friendship bracelet now," I muttered.
I shuffled to my tiny kitchen and made instant coffee.
The coffee behaved. No explosions. No sudden freeze.
For a moment I almost believed the whole thing had been a sleep-deprived fever dream.
Then my phone buzzed.
> [CAMPUS NEWS NOTIFICATION]
A female student from the Faculty of Arts was found unconscious in the music room. Campus doctors describe it as "very deep sleep," showing no responses.
I stared at the screen long enough to feel déjà vu prickle the back of my neck.
Very deep sleep. Not waking.
The exact phrase Mira had breathed in my ear yesterday, right before the world folded into mirrors.
A soft knock came at the door.
I figured it was Ren, maybe with breakfast and a debt-collection face for gossip.
But the person at the threshold was Mira—silver hair, black jacket, the usual calm expression.
"Morning," she said, like we were neighbors who traded salt.
"Morning," I answered, stiff. "Didn't take you for the drop-by-without-notice type."
"I don't have time to knock three times. We've got a problem."
She glanced at my phone, still showing the news alert. "Last night's Nightmare wasn't fully destroyed."
I suddenly wanted to fire up the coffee machine again, just to have something to do. "You sure? I shot it with… whatever that was."
"A fragment slipped out before Dreamspace closed," she said, voice even but eyes intent. "Now it's attached to someone in the real world."
"And you're sure that's not coincidence?"
"There are no coincidences between waking and dreaming, Enkei."
I swallowed. "Okay. So what's the plan?"
"You finish your coffee. Then come with me."
Her tone made it sound like I was on her payroll.
"Where?"
"To NOAH HQ," she said, cool as ever.
"And that's where? Seventh heaven? A shadow server? Underground?"
Mira flicked me a look, light as air. "Closer than you think."
She turned, hair swinging, and headed down the dorm corridor. "Don't forget your courage. We actually need it this time."
I looked at the mug in my hand, then at the blue-lit device on my wrist. It pulsed once—like it was answering the call.
"Great," I sighed. "Three days into knowing this girl and I'm already on a permanent contract with a secret organization."
I downed the coffee, put on my shoes, and followed.
Outside, the sky was overcast, but I could swear something blue flickered behind the clouds.
Good omen or fresh disaster—given my record, odds favored the latter.
Mira's apartment sat on the west side of campus, in an old building that looked half-renovated, half-resigned. The stairs creaked "kraaak" with every step, like the structure itself was nervous seeing me come.
Mira walked ahead, light on her feet like an AI that didn't believe in gravity.
"This your place?" I asked when we stopped at her door.
"My hiding place," she said, tapping a code into the panel. "But don't worry—NOAH housing pays rent on time."
The lock clicked open.
I expected a pristine, spy-grade interior. What I found instead was…
T-shirts draped over chairs, charger cables curled like sleeping snakes, a few energy drink cans that had clearly died dishonorably in the line of duty.
"Wow," I said. "Didn't know secret orgs had a 'Creative Mess' division."
Mira shrugged. "Chaos is a pattern worth studying. Sit."
I nudged a jacket off a chair and sat—cautious. "So where's the secret base? Under the sofa?"
"Simpler than that."
She crossed to a double-door wardrobe on the wall. From outside, it was just a normal closet with a faded "Keep Out" sticker.
I squinted. "You're kidding."
"Nope."
She opened one door. Inside: ordinary clothes—jackets, shirts, a long gray coat. Mira slid the hangers to the right and pressed something at the back.
A small panel inside lit up blue, and a third door appeared in the rear wall: thin metal, rimmed with light.
"Ta-da."
Her eyes glinted. "Door to NOAH HQ."
I blinked. "Wait… the gateway to my subconscious world's secret base is hidden behind a pile of laundry?"
"The safest places are the boring ones," she said, with a tiny laugh.
Before I could retort, she stepped into the closet.
The blue glow swallowed her whole.
I stood there like a kid outside a toy store realizing everything inside is above budget.
Mira looked back from inside the portal. "You coming, or want to wait here till the world breaks?"
I glanced around the room, then inhaled. "If I vanish, tell Ren I died in style."
My eyes snagged on Mira's bra and panties hanging inside.
"Those are new…" her voice cut through my daze. "If you want, I can give you the ones I'm wearing…" she teased, smiling wickedly. I only smiled back.
"Don't test my manly resolve—you'll end up crying, hahah…" I said breezily, my hand lightly holding and stroking one pair of her panties in the middle.
"I can't wait," Mira replied.
I stepped into the light.
---
It felt like walking through a pool with no water. A flash of cold, a sweep of warmth, then my body touched down lightly.
I stood in a broad metallic corridor the color of silver-white, lit by pale blue strips along the walls. Data holograms drifted in the air; in the distance, a chamber of transparent capsules caught and scattered the light like stars.
I stared, jaw half-open. "Okay… I take back what I said about dirty laundry."
"NOAH HQ," Mira said, her voice echoing gently in the hall. "Parallel space. Not directly linked to the real world, but tethered by mind-link."
She walked ahead, and for the first time I saw her in full agent mode: dark jacket with the II emblem, light boots, a metallic band on her right wrist.
I almost said "cool," but my voice got swallowed by the hiss of an automatic door.
We stepped into a large room—humming with holographic panels, control decks, and a tidy display of futuristic weapons on the walls like a dangerous art gallery.
"Welcome to our ops center," she said. "Regional NOAH base. It's where I work—and where you learn."
I pointed at the weapons rack. "And those?"
"Agent gear. You'll get one."
She woke the main console with a tap. NOAH's logo bloomed in the air—white letters with a blue spiral at the center.
I cleared my throat. "So… now what? Big boss materializes from fog and hands us a mission like in the movies?"
Mira shot me a thin smile. "More or less."
She pressed a holo-control. The room's light shifted shade; the air trembled faintly.
From the center, light folded into a tall figure in a black cloak with a metal helm and a voice that rolled like a low tide.
> "Agents. Code Two. Code One. Connection established."
I straightened instinctively, swallowing. "Okay. That's him."
"Commander Zero," Mira said. "Leader of NOAH."
The silhouette turned toward me. The heavy voice was calm, but every word seemed to carry its own echo.
> "Code One. Welcome to reality after the dream. The world you protect just lost one soul because you fell asleep too quickly."
I stiffened. "What—"
> "The Nightmare from last night was not fully neutralized," Zero continued. "A fragment bound to another human's dream. And now its balance is leaking."
I looked at Mira. "You said this rarely happens."
"True," she said softly. "Rare doesn't mean impossible."
Zero spoke again.
> "You, Code One, will learn today that every nightmare is a door. Your task is not only to close it… but to make sure it never opens again."
The voice faded, leaving a strangely clean silence.
Mira swiveled into the console chair, looked at me. "Welcome to your new job, Enkei."
I massaged my temple. "I should've majored in accounting."
She chuckled. "Too late. You stepped into the wardrobe."
Zero's hologram hovered, the air around it thrumming. He didn't move much—just stood there, face hidden behind a resonant mask.
> "Do you know what a Nightmare is?"
Mira and I exchanged a look. I raised a hand like the laziest student.
"Slick black monster from dreams that tries to kill me?"
Zero dipped his head. "Technically… correct. But not the point."
He lifted a holographic hand, and the air shaped itself into a sleeping figure, with three rings spinning above the head.
> "Every human has three mind-doors," he said. "Fear, guilt, and loss.
A Nightmare is born when one door stays open too long.
If all three open, the creature can break into the waking world."
I arched a brow. "So technically, anyone can become… a monster?"
Mira answered before Zero. "Not a monster. A fuel source."
Her face went serious. "Our job is to stop the Nightmare before the last door opens."
I exhaled. "So the work is: dive into someone's dream, hunt their private fears, close them up… before they turn into snack food for another world?"
"Exactly," Mira said, deadpan. "Fast learner."
"And the pay?"
"Your payment: the world doesn't collapse."
"Bargain rates."
Zero turned toward me again.
> "For this you'll need a resonance-control tool. Code One, right-hand panel."
I turned. A metal case unfolded from the wall and presented something that made me say "whoa" out loud.
A long weapon with a mechanical grip, black metal traced with glowing blue lines. Its midsection looked detachable. Along the underside, tiny text read: BREAKAM ONE.
Mira stepped up, took it with both hands, and passed it to me.
"Code agents' primary weapon," she said. "Modular. It shifts shape to match your intent and focus."
I received it carefully. The weight was right, but it felt… alive.
"Modular? Like an adult-graded Swiss Army toy?"
"More."
She pressed a small button on the side.
The blade folded away into a barrel—click. The profile slid into a sleek long pistol.
"Pistol mode," she explained. "For range."
Another click; the metal opened into an axe-head.
"Axe, for breaking dream barriers."
Click again; the tip curved into a scythe.
"Scythe, for higher-level Nightmares."
I stared. "An all-in-one grown-up kit."
"Call it that if it helps."
I swung it gently. The weapon glowed in step with my hands.
"Wait—you said it follows my intent?"
"Yep."
"So if I intend espresso, does it become a coffee machine?"
Mira stared a beat. "Don't you dare."
Zero cut in, voice leveled.
> "Breakam One is synchronized to your neural signal. It will align its form with your will to protect, not to destroy."
I nodded like I understood. "Protect, right… easy to say when nothing's chasing you."
Zero continued, toneless and cold.
> "Your first mission is tonight. The same Nightmare has infected a student.
The fragment is evolving fast. If the third door opens, the host's body will disappear."
Mira's eyes flicked to a holo-screen. "Target?"
Zero lowered his hand. A face formed in the air: short-haired girl in an arts campus uniform.
I recognized her. "The girl from this morning's news."
Zero nodded.
> "Correct. Name: Risa Touma. Age twenty-one.
Infection level: two doors open.
You have six hours before the third."
I swallowed. "Six hours? That's—"
"Enough for two agents," Zero cut in.
The hologram dimmed.
The room fell back into the hum of distant machines.
I looked at Mira. "He always that brief?"
"If he talks longer, the world usually falls apart first," she said lightly.
She headed for a side door. "Come on. We're entering her Dreamspace."
"Now?"
"Yes."
I pointed at myself. "I haven't had lunch!"
"If you're hungry in the dream, it means you're still alive. Consider it diet training."
I shut my eyes for a second. "I'm going to regret joining this org."
"Too late," she said, going first. "And honestly, I enjoy the look on your face whenever I say 'let's go.'"
---
Night at the arts campus had never felt this quiet.
Garden lights flickered like they were anxious. The air felt heavy, as if rain awaited a cue.
We reached the plaza in front of the music building, where a Dreamspace crack still gaped—a thin red line pulsing like the world's pulse. A cold draft blew out, scented like burnt paper.
"She's here," Mira said.
I raised Breakam One. Its edges glowed a pale blue, as if the weapon shared our pressure.
A piercing cry split the air—somewhere between an off-key violin and metal screaming.
From the crack crawled the same Nightmare: a body made of torn scores and audio cables, bigger now, sharper, pulsing red.
"Guess it had a motivational breakfast," I muttered.
"Focus, Agent One," Mira said flatly.
The band on my wrist lit. Blue tracers climbed my arm, across my chest—Partial Sync: Active. Warm energy ringed me thin and close; my clothes stayed the same.
Mira shimmered with a similar pattern, hers a cool silver.
"All right," I said, settling my stance. "You right, me left."
"Coordinates received," she replied in pilot-voice.
The Nightmare swung a "hand" of cords. I met it with Breakam One—clang!—blue and red sparks scattered in the air.
The hit shivered the ground. I hopped back, sprinting to circle it.
"Gun mode!"
Breakam folded; the blade slipped into a barrel. I fired a line of blue, arrows of energy punching into its flank.
It staggered—then hissed, firing back a wave of sound.
"Frequency shield!" Mira called.
Her staff unfurled a shimmering field. The wave rebounded, rattling the paving stones.
She spun; her staff became a whip of light—"Resonance Line!"—lashing the Nightmare's side and holding it in place.
I thumbed the weapon's toggle.
"Axe mode!"
The head rotated into a glowing axe.
I charged, leapt, and cleaved. A soft boom rolled out; score-fragments scattered like a shining paper storm.
The Nightmare shrieked, but didn't break. Red light poured from its body, sketching a circle of symbols on the ground.
"Mira! What's that?"
"Revival wave—opening another portal!"
"Not on my shift!"
I slammed the axe into the ground and poured energy from the wristband. "Breakam Drive, Level One—Overload Slash!"
A surge of blue ripped from the axe, cutting through the circle before it sealed.
The campus shuddered; windows chimed. I almost got thrown back.
Mira dashed in, steadying my shoulder. "You're always excessive."
"But it worked, didn't it?"
Before we could celebrate, the Nightmare tightened—its eyes flaring a hard red.
Its body burst into shards, drifted up, then reformed slimmer, with wings made of glowing cable.
"Final evolution…" Mira murmured.
"Great," I sighed. "I love it when bad days get sequels."
It dove. We moved together: I fired in pistol mode, Mira cast a mesh of light.
Our attacks crossed midair, a blue-silver blast ripping one wing. The thing crashed to the plaza, sending out a rolling lightwave.
I steadied my breath. "Now?"
"Now we close the door."
Mira leveled her staff at the red crack still pulsing. I set Breakam One to the paving in front of it; blue and silver knitted together, forming a spiral that swallowed the Nightmare's remains.
It screamed; its body blew apart into star-like motes and fell into the vortex.
The red light dimmed.
Silence.
My shoulders sagged as I panted. "I need coffee."
"Coffee after the report," Mira said.
"Of course. Because saving the world comes with paperwork."
She laughed softly. For the first time since we met, it sounded genuinely warm.
The last sparks faded.
The arts campus exhaled—only the first patters of rain tapped cracked panes.
I stood in the middle of the courtyard, Breakam One warm in my hands. The blue along its edge pulsed slowly, breathing with me.
For the first time, I noticed: nothing exploded without reason. No devices died just because I walked by.
Everything was calm.
Mira powered down her staff; the silver faded like mist.
"Good for a first mission in the waking world," she said.
I half-laughed. "Good? I almost got eaten by sheet music."
"At least you didn't get tossed into the dumpster of reality," she said, dry. "Progress."
I rolled my eyes and looked up. The clouds hung heavy, but somewhere behind them, a star flickered back to life.
"I think… I get why NOAH needs us now."
"Because Nightmares never really vanish," she said softly. "They just wait for someone to dream again."
We stood for a moment, listening to the wind.
Then my band vibrated.
> [NOAH COM CHANNEL]
Mission 01: Containment successful. Nightmare neutralized. Synchronization rate +12 percent.
I looked at Mira. "Sounds good."
"For tonight," she said, gaze sharpening. "But Nightmare fragments rarely disappear completely. Usually, someone takes in the residue."
"And if that someone isn't us?"
She didn't answer. She just stared toward the music building where the crack had sealed.
The night breeze carried scraps of scorched score—glowing red, then fading into dark.
---
A few blocks from campus, on the roof of an old building, someone stood alone.
Long black coat, face hidden behind a translucent mask.
A faint red glow threaded from the sky into his chest, absorbing like fog sipped by a heart.
The fragment we'd beaten… found a new home.
The figure looked toward campus. Behind the mask, something like eyes gleamed.
A whisper-hum, almost mechanical, drifted with the rain.
> "Interesting… So these are NOAH's Code One and Two."
He lifted a hand; red motes swirled between his fingers, hardening into a small crystal.
> "I am Glion. And at last, they've opened the wrong door."
Light pulsed once in his chest, then went dark.
His shadow vanished with the rain.
---
Back in NOAH HQ, the final report flashed on screen: Anomaly level reduced to zero.
Zero's hologram flickered in briefly, saying only:
> "Well done. But Nightmares never truly sleep."
I looked at my reflection in a metal panel—tired, but alive.
"So this means," I told the mirror, "I'm really an agent now."
Mira passed behind me, shutting down a terminal. "A neatly dressed disaster."
I smiled. "At least this disaster knows how to turn on the coffee machine."
She laughed—a sound that, for some reason, made the base feel a little warmer.
Outside, the rain stopped.
But somewhere, between dream and waking, someone—or something—had just started to dream badly again.