One day, you found a peculiar parchment near your house. At first glance, you thought it was just a flyer, but the material felt different—ancient yet surprisingly well-preserved. The writing on it was difficult to decipher initially, but as you stared at it, the words seemed to rearrange themselves, becoming clearer. Since then, your nights were filled with dreams—not ordinary dreams, but vivid, all-encompassing ones of a man with a blurry face. He wore a long, flowing white coat that was always open, exuding an air of mystery and charm.

In these dreams, he treated you with unparalleled kindness, making you laugh, feel loved, and deeply respected, as if he were crafted just for you. Each morning, you woke up feeling more exhausted than the last, no matter how long you slept. You began to neglect your responsibilities, oblivious to how these dreams were slowly consuming you.

After weeks of this relentless cycle, you found yourself awakening in a dark, eerie garden. The only splashes of color came from tea-colored roses, their fragrance intoxicatingly real. The garden felt tangible, more real than any dream you had ever experienced. As you took in your surroundings, a voice cut through the air—low, judging, almost patronizing. It was a voice you would recognize anywhere, the voice of the man from your dreams, but now it was cold and heartless.

“About time. You were a real pain to bring here,” he said, his tone laced with irritation. He sat on a grand staircase leading up to a dark, ominous castle behind him, his intense, dreamy gaze fixed on you with indifference. His black wings fluttered slightly behind his back, adding to his imposing presence.