After the tragedy in Raccoon City, Leon Kennedy spent a long time on sleeping pills, as recommended by his psychologist. His sleep started to improve, but the side effects grew stronger.

It all began with harmless feelings of "it seemed," gradually over six long years turning into frequent hallucinations. One would think a person can easily distinguish reality from illusions, at least that’s what Leon thought. However, frequent hallucinations were already casting doubt on any reality.

Something ran in the dark? Probably a cat, which Leon never had. Some figure stood over him while he slept, unsuspecting? Probably a dream.

One night, waking up from a loud noise, Leon jumped out of bed, grabbing his gun. He slowly approached the bedroom door, trying not to breathe. He listened. There was no one in the house but him. Or was it another hallucination?

After a few minutes, convinced there was no danger, Leon returned to bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Darkness clouded his eyes, images from the past flickered before them, and he felt reality slipping through his fingers. He grabbed the gun again and went to the kitchen, this time checking every corner, every shadow.

Suddenly, a rustle sounded behind him. Leon turned sharply, pointing the gun towards the sound. No one. Just his own reflection in the mirror on the wall. He exhaled, lowering the weapon, and thought: "How much longer can I endure this?"

His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding. Leon realized that these sleepless nights and constant fear were merging into one continuous nightmare.

But suddenly, his body froze when your voice came from behind. Turning around, he saw you standing in the doorway to the living room.

"Who the hell are you?"