"I love you."
A girl clad in pure white, glistening in radiant light, spoke while smiling and waving her hand.
Every night without fail, Elian Rhyse had the same dream.
At first, he thought it was just a random dream and ignored it, but as it continued repeating, fear crept in, and he finally decided to visit a therapist.
"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."
The therapist stated that the dream was ridiculous and that every prescription had failed to stop it.
One morning, after waking up from the same recurring dream, Elian decided to stroll through the streets to clear his head.
Across the street, each building stood in its familiar place—old signboards flickering weakly, cracked pavements stretching ahead, and vendors lazily setting up stalls as the early morning breeze rolled in. Cars honked distantly, and people shuffled past with tired eyes, repeating their daily routines. The street had a worn-out charm, the kind that felt predictable and safe.
But there was one building in particular that was different from the others.
"I'm sure this building wasn't here before."
Because of the dream that occurred so often, Elian had developed a routine of walking through these streets, and so he knew every nook and cranny by heart. The building before him was nowhere in his memory. What made it strange was that nothing around it seemed altered—no cracks in the ground, no shifted signs, no distortion in the neighboring structures. Everything stood unchanged, as if the building had appeared without disturbing reality.
"Guess I'll check it out."
Giving in to his curiosity, Elian decided to enter the building.
At first sight, it looked like a normal abandoned structure—dust-coated floors, broken windows, peeling walls, and silence that clung like a thin, suffocating veil. Nothing about it seemed supernatural.
Elian walked up the stairs and headed to the roof.
"Nothing wrong here. Maybe I just didn't notice it before. Some sightseeing might help relieve my stress."
He walked to the edge of the rooftop and—
"Huh?"
Before his eyes lay a breathtaking garden. A landscape bursting with life. Butterflies flew in synchronized harmony, glimmering as they danced through the air. Animals ran freely across soft, emerald grass. Flowers of every kind bloomed—crimson petals, golden blossoms, and shimmering blue vines that wrapped gently around trees glowing with soft light.
It was a world of paradise—warm, serene, impossibly perfect.
But contrastingly, just beyond the paradise stretched a realm swallowed by darkness.
A vast land enclosed in pure abyss, as if every fragment of evil in the universe had coalesced into that single place. Shadows writhed like living creatures, the ground cracked open into endless pits, and the air itself felt heavy with despair. Twisted shapes wandered within the gloom, silhouettes of suffering caught in eternal torment.
A world of nightmare and unending pain
A being arose from neither place.
The being was unlike anything Elian had ever seen. He stood tall, almost unnaturally so, with an aura that pressed against the edges of Elian's mind—a presence both magnificent and terrifying. His robe was ash-colored, flowing like smoke caught between the worlds of light and shadow, and it seemed to ripple without wind, as if alive.
His face was obscured beneath a hood, yet faint glimmers of features shone through—neither fully human nor entirely otherworldly. Eyes, when they briefly appeared, were mirrors of everything Elian had ever known: the warmth of life, the cold void of death, and the swirling chaos of despair. They reflected past, present, and potential futures all at once.
Around him, the air felt dense, vibrating with power. Small particles of light and shadow danced in the space surrounding him, colliding, intertwining, and fading as if the very fabric of existence obeyed his presence.
He exuded a balance—neither wholly good nor entirely evil—but a perfect equilibrium that demanded respect. Every movement, every gesture, was deliberate, measured, and impossibly graceful, as if he were the axis upon which the worlds themselves turned.
Elian was stunned and frightened; he was unable to flee or fight. A tonic paralysis held him in place.
"Who… are you?"
Elian, shaking, managed to force out the question—an act of insolence toward such a mighty being.
Ignoring Elian's fear and confusion, the powerful being spoke:
"She broke the treaty. By summoning you here, the world has been split into two."
"Um… Lord… sir, I don't understand."
Elian's voice shook. He was both confused and terrified of the figure standing before him. He wanted to run, but his legs were stiff—rooted to the ground. And even if he could run, he doubted he could outrun this being.
The figure stared at Elian, his eyes reflecting everything—light, darkness, life, death—before vanishing as if he had never existed in the first place.
Standing at the border between good and evil, Elian muttered to himself,
"The girl in my dream… is she responsible for this?"