The IDHA exam site was massive.
The stadium loomed over the plaza, its concrete shell reinforced with black alloy plating and glowing sensor lines that crawled across its surface like veins. Armed personnel stood at every entrance—not threatening, but watchful.
Hundreds of candidates gathered beneath the morning sun.
Some stretched nervously.
Some whispered last-minute facts to themselves.
Some stared straight ahead, unmoving.
Akira stood near the edge of the crowd.
Hands in his pockets.
Shoulders tight.
Every sound felt louder than it should have been.
This was it.
No second chances.
No mercy for failure.
If he failed here, he would go back to the countryside. To his village.
Back to the memories that waited when there was nothing else to distract him.
He exhaled slowly.
Focus.
That was when the crowd shifted.
Not loudly.
Not suddenly.
People simply… moved aside.
Akira noticed it without knowing why.
A presence passed through the plaza like a cold breeze on a summer morning.
Silver hair caught the light—neatly tied, sharp and deliberate. Her steps were measured, posture straight, eyes forward. She didn't look around.
She didn't need to.
The world adjusted for her.
Akira's breath caught.
Not because she was beautiful—though she was—but because something about her felt controlled. Like every movement had already been decided.
She walked past him.
And for half a second, their eyes met.
Cold.
Not unfriendly.
Not hostile.
Just… clear.
Akira forgot how to breathe.
The girl looked away and continued walking, disappearing into the crowd without a word.
Only when she was gone did Akira realize his heart was pounding.
What was that…?
He pressed a hand to his chest.
This is stupid. Focus.
Whispers
Nearby voices filled the silence she left behind.
"Did you see her?"
"That's Ayla, right?"
"The capital prodigy?"
"They say she passed the written exam before even applying."
Akira pretended not to listen.
He failed.
A sharp chime echoed across the plaza.
A composed voice followed, amplified and emotionless.
"All candidates, proceed to your assigned halls for the written examination. Failure to comply will result in immediate disqualification."
The tension snapped tight.
People moved.
Akira followed the signs, legs stiff, thoughts racing.
As he walked, his gaze drifted once—just once.
He spotted silver hair ahead of him.
And felt his stomach tighten.
The examination hall was vast and silent.
Rows of desks stretched endlessly beneath a high ceiling. Sunlight filtered through narrow windows, casting pale stripes across the floor.
Akira took his seat.
Pen.
Paper.
Heartbeat.
He stared at the desk until the world narrowed to the page in front of him.
Define Nightmareisation.
His pen moved.
"Nightmareisation is the phenomenon in which fear experienced during a dream manifests physically in reality…"
The words flowed.
Training drills.
News reports.
Survival lessons drilled into every citizen since childhood.
He answered without hesitation.
Then—
Describe the Crimson Night.
His hand froze.
The room seemed to dim.
Red light flickered behind his eyes.
He swallowed.
Focus.
The Crimson Event… twenty years ago.
A sky drenched in red.
Buildings collapsing like ash.
A scream—his mother's? His own? After so long, the memories had melted into one endless echo.
He shut his eyes.
…Focus. Just answer it.
He forced the words onto the page, clinical and detached.
"The Crimson Event was the first recorded case of Nightmareisation, originating from an unidentified child. The Karagumi village on the outskirts of Tokyo was completely destroyed, with nearly thousands of casualties."
He didn't write that he had been there.
He didn't write that he had survived that incident.
Some truths belonged only to him.
When the bell rang, his fingers ached.
Break
The cafeteria buzzed with nervous energy.
Akira sat alone at first, staring at his tray without appetite.
"Yo!"
A voice slammed into him like a hammer.
A tall boy with messy brown hair dropped into the seat across from him, grinning like they were old friends.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, already sitting.
Akira blinked. "Uh… sure."
"Name's Ren. You look like you're about to pass out."
"…Akira."
Ren laughed. Loud. Unapologetic.
"You from the countryside?"
Akira nodded.
Ren's grin widened. "Figures. You've got that 'I haven't-seen-some-things' stare."
Akira didn't answer.
Ren went quiet.
Akira followed his gaze.
Silver hair.
Ayla sat alone at a distant table, eating with calm, graceful movements—like she belonged in a different world.
Akira stared.
Ren noticed immediately.
He leaned back, eyes narrowing with amusement. "Ohhh."
Akira's heart beat faster.
He didn't even realize he was staring until Ayla's eyes lifted.
Her gaze swept the room.
And landed on Akira.
For a moment, Akira froze.
Then he snapped his eyes away like he'd been caught doing something wrong.
His cheeks burned.
Ren chuckled softly. "Dude. She looked at you."
Akira swallowed hard. "I— I didn't mean to—"
Ren shook his head, smiling like he'd already won. "Relax. You like her."
Akira opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Ren leaned closer, voice low and teasing. "It's written all over your face."
Akira looked back once—just once.
Ayla's eyes were already elsewhere.
Like she hadn't even noticed.
But Akira's ears still burned.
The announcement chimed again.
"All candidates, prepare for the practical examination."
Ren cracked his knuckles. "Well. Guess this is where things get fun."
Akira stood slowly.
Fun wasn't the word he would have chosen.
He looked toward the arena doors.
Toward the unknown waiting inside.
And stepped forward.
END OF CHAPTER 3