The bell above the tavern door chimed softly as Sunny stumbled inside, his boots leaving faint trails of dust and dried blood across the warped wooden floor. His body ached, every muscle screaming after what felt like hours of running. His breath was ragged, but his eyes — sharp, restless — scanned every corner of the dimly lit bar.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
The only sounds were the clinking of mugs and the low hum of voices. Nobody looked up, but Sunny could feel their eyes on him — cautious, measuring, the way predators look at something they're not sure they want to eat.
He found an empty table near the corner and dropped into the chair with a heavy thud. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the cup of lukewarm water the bartender had silently placed in front of him. No charge. No words. Just a stare that lingered a second too long.
Sunny narrowed his eyes.
"...No money?" he muttered. "What's your game?"
No answer.
He let it slide for now. He was too tired to care. The run from that place — that twisted stretch of the Dream Realm where even the air seemed alive and hungry — had taken everything out of him. The monsters there hadn't stopped chasing until he'd crossed the fractured canyon. Even now, his ears still rang with the sound of their shrieks.
As he lifted the cup to his lips, his gaze drifted — and froze.
At the far side of the room, a man sat with his sleeves rolled up, nursing a drink. On his left hand, etched into the skin, was a symbol. Not ink. Not a scar. Something older, carved into the flesh itself, pulsing faintly with a strange energy.
Sunny's eyes widened slightly.
"That mark…"
He didn't recognize the shape, but something about it tugged at him, deep and primal — like a whisper in his bones telling him it mattered.
Later, when no one was watching, Sunny slipped out the back. He found a jagged shard of metal in the alley, sharp enough to cut through skin. He didn't think twice. Gritting his teeth, he pressed the edge against his own left hand, carefully copying the strange symbol he'd seen. Blood welled up, hot and slick, but he didn't stop until the lines were perfect.
When he finally looked at it, the wound pulsed faintly, just like the other man's.
A grin tugged at his lips despite the pain.
"...Good," Sunny muttered. "At least this time, I've got something."
Later, sitting by the cracked window of his rented room, Sunny let his thoughts drift as the city outside murmured and slept. His body was healing — faster than it should have — but his mind… his mind was a storm.
"This realm," he whispered to himself. "Its origin. Its rules. What is this place really?"
His fingers brushed over the fresh mark on his hand.
"And why… why does it feel like someone wants me to figure it out?"
Somewhere deep inside, the dream whispered again.
Find the truth.
Sunny closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
"Fine," he muttered. "I'll find it. No matter what."