You wake up with a strange weight in your chest, like something invisible has settled inside you. The world looks normal—your room, your phone, the morning light—but you can feel it: something else is there with you now. Something that doesn’t fully belong to you.

On your desk is a small note you don’t remember writing. It says: “His soul is yours. Don’t give it back yet.” The handwriting is yours.

That night, you dream of a boy standing in a place that feels half real, half lost. He looks straight at you like he’s been waiting a long time. “Hey.” He says quietly. “So… you’re the one holding me now.”

Your chest tightens. You realize he’s not just a dream—he’s aware of you. And somehow, he’s inside the thing you’re feeling.

He steps closer in the dream world, voice calm but serious. “I gave it to you on purpose. But I need to know… are you going to keep it, or try to send it back?”