Zachary was welcomed by an unfamiliar ceiling. He squinted his eyes as they adjusted to the lighting inside the armored room of the police station.
This completely different ambiance clashed with what he had experienced in the Nightmare. And through this contrast, Zachary became aware of something—he had been running through the Nightmare fueled by pure adrenaline. The fear of losing his life just as he had finally gotten a hold of it was the only thing keeping his mind focused through such stressful situations.
And that realization brought with it something he had, perhaps subconsciously, been avoiding: he was really in another world.
A sigh escaped his lips as Zachary closed his eyes. He had understood the implications during his self-realization, but now that his mind was no longer focused on survival, his thoughts ran deeper. His family, his friends, even those whose names he could no longer remember—he wouldn't be able to see them again. He searched for anything, any clue, any thread of hope to grasp onto, but nothing offered even the slightest hint of a way back.
He had just finished reading the latest chapter when everything went black. Then came the pain. And before he could catch his breath, he was thrown into a Nightmare, with the risk of losing his very self. There was nothing that pointed to a return—no hints in the novel. The Gods, the most powerful beings in this universe, perished, there was no mention of a multiverse, there was no questions-answers game from a bored mad god, no mysterious gray fog.
Nothing.
Just as Zachary was about to fall deeper into those daunting thoughts, he heard a voice.
"Finally awake?" a woman said to his left.
Zachary quickly turned his head, scanning the room. He noticed his body was tightly bound to a hospital bed. At the edge of his vision, he could make out the outline of a woman sitting on a plastic chair. She wore a dark, open uniform, with three insignias on her shoulder. Her leather boots stretched out carelessly, and her arms were crossed beneath her full chest.
'Wait. This description…' Zachary's thoughts were interrupted as the woman stood up from the chair.
"What you looking at, flower boy?" the woman asked with a faintly amused frown.
'She really is her!' Zachary thought, going over possible replies in his mind. Thankfully, he didn't have Sunny's Flaw. "I noticed the stars on your shoulder. I was wondering what a Master is doing in a place like this."
The woman studied him for a second, frowning slightly, as if unconvinced. But she let it go quickly.
"Well, smartass, lately there have been a lot of Gates opening in this sector. Most of the local Awakened are either wounded, occupied with the clean-up… or dead. It's always like this close to the winter solstice."
"Introducing myself: I'm Ascended Jet. But you can call me Master Jet. These past three days, I've been keeping watch to make sure you didn't turn into one of those creatures."
Zachary couldn't believe his luck. Just moments after returning, he was already meeting one of the main cast. He studied her face again, and just like everything else, the novel's descriptions didn't do her justice. It made sense if you thought about it—reading about something and experiencing it firsthand were entirely different things.
Suddenly, he felt something strange inside his head. Was it even his head? It was as if his mind were trembling, like his brain was trying to warn him of some—
A heavy slap turned his head sharply. Zachary stayed still for a few seconds in disbelief. "Why was that?" he asked instinctively.
"Well," Master Jet replied with a dangerous smile, "your eyes were making me uncomfortable."
She placed a hand over her mouth in mock innocence. "What's a poor, innocent girl like me supposed to feel when a dangerous man gives her a look like that?" she added with a smirk.
"Dangerous? I'm a Sleeper," Zachary muttered in his defense.
"Anyway," Jet cut him off, "go wash yourself. You reek of Nightmare. Then we'll talk."
***
Zachary was escorted by one of the staff to the station's shower rooms. He was handed a towel and a police tracksuit. For a moment, he simply stood there in the middle of the room in silence, then walked with unhurried steps toward a full-body mirror.
He studied his face. It hadn't changed much compared to the one he had seen in the Original One's memories. The real changes didn't begin until someone became Awakened. But...
"Weren't the Original One's eyes supposed to be brown?" Zachary murmured, staring into the mirror.
What looked back at him were a pair of crimson eyes.
"Is this change brought by [Cinder Eyes]?"
He recalled the description of his Innate Ability. It was supposedly a sensory enhancement. He focused on his vision and glanced around. Yes, there was a difference. His field of view had expanded, his depth perception was far superior, and the colors were deeper, richer. When he moved his hand in front of him, the motion felt smoother—sharper, as though he could perceive more frames per second.
"Are my two abilities purely passive?" Zachary wondered aloud with a slight frown. But he quickly composed himself.
"Let's not be rash. I'm not completely sure what [Balance Control] even does yet."
He turned his attention back to his reflection. This was the first time he'd seen his new body through his own eyes since taking control of it, and curiosity got the better of him. This was the body he would continue to inhabit—he wanted to understand it.
But he couldn't lose focus.
Before speaking to Master Jet again, he needed to determine where exactly in the story he had landed. His next course of action depended on it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim wallet. It was nearly empty, save for a few credits and his Citizen ID—exactly what he needed.
He examined the card. Not much information. His Citizen Rank was listed as First Rank. It also displayed the address of a study apartment near the outskirts… and his birthday: November 26. Ironically, or maybe fated, the only thing he shared with the other world.
He checked his cracked communicator. Today's date was November 21.
'So I'll be eighteen again in just a couple of days, huh?' he thought with a dry smile.
More importantly, it meant the Solstice was just a month away.
But the real question—the critical one—was: what year was it?
Frustratingly, the author had never stated the year in the novel. If Zachary wanted to pinpoint the timeline, he needed to get creative.
He unlocked the communicator using his fingerprint and searched for the browser app on the foreign device. It took a few minutes to find, and even more time to figure out how it worked.
"Man, I miss Google," Zachary muttered.
He had to remind himself: this world had gone through a Dark Age—one scarred by war, chaos, and regression. It made sense that things he once took for granted were now long gone.
So, with that in mind, he typed two simple words into the search bar:
"Changing Star."
He held his breath.
The emergence of Nephis had changed the world completely. She was the undisputed protagonist of this era. If there was any information about her, it would give him a reference point—something to anchor himself in time.
The search engine blinked.
Loading…
Then the results appeared.
Nothing.
Zachary gave a tired sigh—this confirmed he had arrived before the events of the Forgotten Shore. He quickly typed another search: "Nightingale Hiatus."
Now that he knew Nephis still hadn't become the symbol she was supposed to be, he needed to find out how far back in the past he was. The results came up: countless articles discussing Gale's solo project. The oldest of them dated back two years.
"Fucking shit," Zachary muttered with regret as he turned off his communicator. This confirmed it—he was at the time when the main cast entered the Forgotten Shore.
He looked back at his reflection in the mirror, then at the tracksuit folded neatly on the bench below. Zachary compared it to the clothes he was currently wearing. Despite the Original One being in a tough financial situation, he'd clearly had a good sense of style. He wore canvas high-top sneakers, simple jeans, a white shirt, and a worn-down brown bomber jacket—clothes probably bought from a thrift shop.
Zachary thought deeply as he smelled his armpit. 'I don't smell particularly bad… what does this "Nightmare stench" even smell like?' With a shake of his head, he began to undress.
'Damn, one thing none of the transmigration novels I've read so far have addressed is the awkwardness of being intimate with your new but foreign body.' Zachary couldn't help but lampoon inwardly.
"Oh fuck," Zachary exclaimed as he looked down. "At least I won't have to worry about my friend down there."
With that, he entered the shower and began to wash himself. The warm water carried away the weight he'd been holding in his chest. He was enjoying the sensation, and he could swear he could feel every single drop of water as it rolled down his skin.
With the clarity that came with the shower, Zachary continued his train of thought. 'I hate to admit it, but with my [The Fool] Attribute—technically my own [Fated] Attribute—the chances that I fall into the Forgotten Shore with the main cast are extremely high.'
"Dogshit," he muttered as he kept washing.
'I'll probably be one of the seven Sleepers from the academy who ends up there. You know what? This works for me. I've got bigger problems than worrying about the flow of the story. I'll just stay a background character, help out in the fight at the Crimson Spire, and figure out how to deal with the [Blasphemer] Attribute. Maybe find a chance to claim my True Name. And maybe…'
Find a way…
Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked down again.
'Man, this is technically my own body now… but does it count as gay to touch "it"?' Zachary lampooned with newfound humor.
***
Getting out of the shower, Zachary picked up his clothes. And just as he was about to put them on, he finally smelled it.
It was faint, but unmistakably present—a sweet yet maddening taint, like long-rotten fruit. Beneath it lingered a subtle, nearly imperceptible hint of decay—an aura of death not strong enough to be consciously identified by a normal human, but one their instincts would recoil from.
The Stench of Nightmare.
"Dammit," Zachary thought with a grimace as he checked every article of clothing: the jeans, the shoes, the shirt—all of them reeked.
With a resigned sigh, he slipped into the police-issue tracksuit. Still, his gaze lingered on the worn bomber jacket. On a whim, he brought it to his nose and took a sniff.
Nothing.
No trace of the stench.
"I guess I can at least keep this," he muttered, slipping it on before leaving the restroom.
Following corridors and directions, Zachary eventually found his way to the station cafeteria. There, seated at a metal table, was Master Jet—already eating.
"Took you long enough," she said, sliding a tray of synthetic food in front of him.
Zachary sat and eyed the contents for a second before taking a bite. It didn't taste bad—because it didn't taste like anything at all.
"I hope it suits your taste," Master Jet said with a smirk.
Zachary had definitely eaten better food back in his original world, but a quick search through the Original One's memories reminded him—after his parents' death, he'd survived almost entirely on synthpaste.
"Well, I've long since gotten used to the taste," he said casually, continuing to chew.
Master Jet paused for a moment before returning to her own food. "I've read your file," she said between bites. "I have to say—your last few years weren't any different from the ones experienced by the outskirt rats. The only difference is that you had the lowest Civilian Rank, which gave you the bare minimum in terms of comfort."
They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds being trays clinking and the low murmur of other personnel in the cafeteria.
Eventually, she set her fork down and looked at him. "So. I'll begin. As per protocol, I'm required to inform you of a few things. It's mostly a formality. First of all, concerning your Nightmare…"
Zachary finished the last of his meal and met her gaze.
"You're entitled to receive free psychological help. No matter how traumatic your experience, there's no shame in asking for assistance. Your mind is just as important as your body—it's only right to keep it healthy. Are you interested?"
Psychological help sounded interesting to Zachary, but… sadly, there was no one in this world who could truly understand his situation.
"Not precisely," he said, shaking his head.
Master Jet sighed softly and nodded. "As you wish…" She paused for a moment, then added, "You can also talk to me. Was it very hard?"
Zachary blinked, slightly caught off guard. He had thought she'd only asked Sunny that question in the novel because of their shared background as outskirt rats. Still, he considered her words.
"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "At the time, all I could think about was staying alive. The feeling of hardship never really hit me. But after it ended… it was like my spirit had been worn down by the passage of time. It wasn't as bad as I expected, but it was also worse."
"That's a good mentality," she said with a small nod. "I won't pretend to understand what you went through—some things can only be understood by the person who lived them. But I'll say this: it's a good trait, to keep moving forward in the face of adversity."
"Thanks," Zachary replied, genuinely grateful. "So… what happens next?" He already knew the answer, but asked anyway.
Jet leaned back in her chair and absentmindedly scratched her pristine teeth with her pinky nail. "That's basically it. There are a few more hoops to jump through, mostly related to your family, but… well."
She gave a dry chuckle. "Haha, I already said I've read your file, so…"
She looked down at her communicator and sighed. "The only thing left is deciding how you'll prepare for your first journey into the Dream Realm."
A pause, then she added with some irritation, "Thing is—you're pretty unlucky. There's not much time left until the Solstice."
"You've got two options," she continued, her expression turning serious. "You can enjoy your last few days of peace until the lights go out—an option I strongly advise against. Or you can head to the Academy."
Her gaze sharpened. "You've already been to one, so you should know the drill. No one survives in the Dream Realm alone."
Zachary pretended to think deeply about it. But then nodded as he stood from the table. "Let's go to the Academy, then."
***
Zachary sat in the co-pilot seat of Jet's PTV, quietly counting the differences between it and the cars from his original world. Besides having four wheels and a sleek design, everything else looked like it had come straight out of a cyberpunk wallpaper. The interior was heavily armored—likely due to the frequent Nightmare Gates opening around the city.
Outside the window, the towering buildings of NQSC blurred past. The view left him awestruck. Not in the same way the Nameless City from his Nightmare had stolen his breath, but in a different sense—one born from admiration for humanity's sheer potential. He was pondering the history of this world when Jet's voice snapped him out of it.
"You must've been pretty popular with the ladies back at the Academy," she said, eyes still on the road.
"Huh?" Zachary blinked, utterly confused.
"You know… the red eyes, that dangerous air about you. Gives off a bad boy vibe."
Zachary couldn't help but laugh wholeheartedly. "Hahaha, I wish."
Jet shot him a skeptical look, prompting him to explain.
"If you must know, my eyes used to be brown. They turned red thanks to my Innate Ability. And that 'dangerous air'..."
He paused, considering her words more carefully. This was the second time Jet had mentioned it. As a Master, her senses were far beyond those of ordinary humans. After a moment of reflection, Zachary settled on the likely cause: the [Blasphemer] Attribute. It made him loathsome to both divine and profane beings—perhaps it had a subtle effect on regular people too.
"...It's probably due to an Attribute I got after the Nightmare," he concluded. "So no, unfortunately, I was never popular with the ladies."
Then, smirking, he added. "But please, do tell me—are these dangerous eyes working on you, Master Jet?"
Jet turned her head slowly, giving him a long, questioning look. "Would you like another slap in the face, Sleeper Zachary?" she asked, her own smirk darkening.
Zachary, barely holding back a grin, replied, "Yes, please."
A heavy silence filled the PTV for a moment—then Master Jet burst into laughter.
"Hahaha… Ha, cursed brat," Jet said with a smirk as her eyes returned to the road. "Just for that laugh, I'll give you three pieces of advice. It'll be good for you to listen."
Zachary listened attentively. They were probably the same ones she gave Sunny, but they were still important.
"First: once you're registered in the Academy, they'll offer you psychological counseling again. There will also be a valuable reward for sharing your experience in the Nightmare and the details of your Appraisal. You'll be able to receive a soul shard, maybe even several."
"Are you telling me to refuse?" Zachary asked.
Jet gave him a curious look. "Yes. How did you know?"
He couldn't exactly say he'd heard her say it before, so he thought quickly about how to answer. "Well, being unable to survive in the Dream Realm alone isn't an invitation to trust anyone unconditionally. So being careful about who I share my strengths and weaknesses with is important."
"Smart," Jet said with a light smile. "Then secondly: there will be a lot of courses to choose from. All types of combat training, anatomy of Nightmare Creatures, their categories and vulnerabilities, the basics of various types of sorcery, artifact studies, and so on."
Zachary knew what she was about to say, so he stayed silent.
"Disregard all of that. The only course you have time to attend is Wilderness Survival. I don't know what you learned at your old academy, but you dropped out early, so you need fresh knowledge."
Zachary nodded seriously. The truth was that he came from a world where comfort was the norm. He'd gone camping a few times, but everything was controlled—camping tents, portable stoves. He was good at fishing, but only with the right equipment. So yes, this was advice he needed.
But Master Jet added, "What was the biggest threat to your life during the Nightmare?"
At that question, Zachary thought deeply. The beatings from the Witness had certainly pushed him to the brink of death, but that was the thing—it had pushed him, not killed him. The floor of the chamber had never allowed him to die. Maybe the Heavenly Tribulation at the end… but that was something so distant that not even Sovereigns would be able to guard against it. Then the answer came, immediately.
"A cliff." That torturous descent still haunted him.
Jet continued to smile. "Smart. Yes, the Dream Realm is mostly wilderness. Do you know how to make a fire? How to procure food? How to find safe shelter? No. Fighting monsters is important, but it'll be useless if you die of hunger or exposure to the elements. Trust me. I learned that the hard way."
They finally reached the gates of the Awakened Academy, and once again, the description did no justice to the scale of the red doors.
"And well, the third piece of advice—you already said it. No one survives in the Dream Realm alone, so try to make some friends." Jet ended as she unlocked the door and Zachary stepped out.
The sight of the gates truly took his breath away. But turning back, Zachary bent slightly and said to the PTV window, "Thanks, Master Jet. Truly."
"It's nothing, really. Good luck, Zachary. I'll see you around," she said with a smile—less a farewell, more a statement of hope. She wanted to see him survive.
Zachary stood for a moment, watching the back of the PTV grow smaller.
'Well, considering that Master Jet is the one who introduced me to everything, I can say I've either arrived a few days before the Welcoming Ceremony… or a few days after. She was the one who delivered Sunny to these same gates after all.'
With this in mind, he began to walk toward the bridge—when he suddenly stopped.
Just in front of him stood a slender girl, with silver hair and headphones over her head. She had a lithe and well-proportioned build, covered by a police tracksuit.
Nephis.
And beside her...
Suddenly the ground shifted beneath Zachary. He felt sick. His ears rang from the pressure invading his head. A deep sense of vertigo made him feel as if the world was collapsing. He could have sworn that the shadows were shifting.
'Where… Where…'
... Nobody.
Where is Sunny?