Mio found herself sleeping restlessly.
It wasn't nightmares or sudden awakenings, just an incessant tug of war between wakefulness and deep sleep. Time and again, she would slip into a dream, only to be flung back to the surface as if something were preventing her from staying there.
The position of an observer.
When the dream unfolded once more, she was standing far too close.
Li stood directly ahead.
It wasn't a complete image, merely an unreasonably sharp outline of his presence. She could even discern the shift in his centre of gravity as he stood, and the rhythm of his breathing.
This shouldn't be happening.
She was supposed to keep her distance.
She was only supposed to observe, not intervene.
But she didn't retreat.
Not because she wasn't aware, but —
She couldn't.
She felt as if she were tethered by an invisible thread, not being pulled but moving closer of her own accord.
Mio's gaze fixed on his back and her heart skipped a beat.
She realised something dangerous:
She was no longer merely concerned about the anomaly spiralling out of control.
She was worried about him.
Not as a 'subject' or 'risk factor',
but as an individual.
The dream rippled faintly, as if to warn her that she had crossed a line. But this time, she didn't pull away immediately. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot, watching Rei.
A thought flashed through her mind, sudden and direct:
If he vanished—
not erased or obliterated,
—but completely departed from her reach.
Mio's chest clenched sharply.
She suddenly realised that what she feared wasn't the world's judgement,
but the thought of never feeling his presence again.
It wasn't that the world would lose him,
But that she would.
This realisation was so clear and vivid that it made her want to deny it immediately.
This wasn't right.
It wasn't an emotion a Lawkeeper should feel.
But emotions don't simply vanish because they "shouldn't" exist.
The dream began to contract; the system-level retrieval mechanism silenced itself.
The dream began to shrink as the system-level retrieval mechanism activated silently. It was only then that Mio realised she had lingered too long.
She forced herself to take a step back.
But this step proved harder than any she had ever taken before.
Before exiting, she murmured unconsciously, "
'Never let yourself be pushed to that place again.'
The words had barely left her lips when she froze in shock.
This wasn't a rule's warning.
It was a plea.
When Mio woke up, daylight was streaming through the window.
She sat on the bed, her fingers unconsciously clenching and unclenching as if to check that something still existed.
She knew very well—
This wasn't love.
At least, not yet.
But it was more dangerous than pity, duty or obligation.
It was a dependency taking shape.
Once the world noticed this dependency,
it would be seen as a sign of weakness.
Mio lowered her head and exhaled softly.
She had come this far.
Retreating now would only cause more pain.
The Night Division's second operation was carried out without informing anyone.
There were no Student Council records or school documentation, and even the routine perimeter quarantine was omitted. It seemed they had confirmed something.
Any further concealment would only risk them missing their target.
Their objective wasn't the seal itself,
but rather the 'reaction' that might follow its activation.
The operation site was located beneath an inconspicuous strip of greenery in the west courtyard. Originally, this was merely a transitional node for low-frequency seals, used to balance the spiritual pressure flow throughout the academy.
In theory, even if it failed, no visible anomalies should have manifested.
Yet they proceeded.
When the seal was released, there was no explosion or warning signal, only a faint tremor beneath the ground, as if the world were shuddering at an inopportune moment.
The next second—
Space began to shift.
It was the students passing by who were the first to notice something amiss.
As they walked, they suddenly slowed down. They realised that the central courtyard ahead was still there, but seemed to be shrouded in an extremely thin filter.
Colours deepened.
Shadows stretched longer, but in inconsistent directions.
Someone blinked instinctively.
When they opened their eyes again, the grass had vanished.
In its place was a fractured expanse of ground, with cracks radiating outwards as if it had been repeatedly trampled by some force. The air carried an indescribable scent, somewhere between dampness and metal.
Yet reality remained.
The outline of the school building was still there, as were the trees, streetlights and benches, but they overlapped with the otherworldly scene,
like two paintings not quite aligned.
"... What is this?"
Someone reached out, but their fingertips froze in mid-air — not from fear, but because their body instinctively refused to move forward.
They stood on the threshold of reality, bearing witness to things that belonged not to daylight.
The aura of another realm started to spread.
A low rumble rose from beneath the earth. Though no distinct sound could be heard, the pressure was heavy on the chest and amplified emotions. Anxiety, fear and unease surged like a tidal wave.
The seal had not completely shattered.
But it had spun out of control.
Members of the Night Division stood at the monitoring point, their expressions calm, almost indifferent.
'The overlap range remains within controllable parameters.'
"What about duration?"
'Under three minutes.'
'Sufficient.'
They weren't here to repair it.
They were here to confirm it.
Li was passing the outer edge of the courtyard.
He sensed something was amiss the moment he arrived.
It wasn't a visual perception, but rather a familiar resonance colliding violently with his chest, more intense than any previous occurrence. The air itself seemed to grow heavy, forcing him to stop.
He looked up,
and saw a scene where reality and illusion were indistinguishable.
A corner of the campus was 'overlapping'.
Ground from another realm extended into reality yet was confined within certain boundaries. Cracks contracted and expanded like breathing, always circling the same centre.
Li's gaze froze.
In that instant, he knew with certainty—
This was no accident.
This scene had been manufactured.
'Who are you looking for?'
His voice was low, almost drowned out by the surrounding noise.
But he had already taken that step.
At the other end of the dream, Mio's eyes snapped open.
She wasn't waking up, but being violently pulled by an intense force within the dream.
The scene forced itself open.
The atrium where reality and the otherworld intertwined filled her consciousness completely. She understood almost instantly:
The Nightwalkers had made their move.
and they weren't hiding it.
Mio's heart clenched.
She saw Rei standing on the edge, being 'verified' by that overlapping space.
This time, it wasn't just being seen —
It was being forced out.
The dreamscape began to tremble with alarm.
Mio clenched her teeth.
She knew that she would have to respond to the next step.
That response might well be beyond her control.