Aurex grappled with a chilling realization: the lines between reality and illusion were blurring more and more, perhaps intentionally. Torren, the enigmatic figure only he could see, and Kaien, whose apparent shared experience now felt suspect, drove him further into a labyrinth of doubt. "What is Torren? Why can only I see him? Why is Kaien also experiencing something similar? Are we the only real ones?" he mused, the questions echoing in his mind. The unsettling possibility that Kaien, who had offered comforting words, might also be a figment, just a more convincing one than Torren, gnawed at him.
He clutched his knees, a frown etched on his face. Kaien had said all the right things, things Aurex desperately needed to hear. But wasn't that precisely Torren's exact same move? Perhaps Kaien was simply better at the game, a more sophisticated illusion. Yet, Aurex's memories, particularly the unsettling details of Torren's behavior and the chilling message "DO NOT CROSS THE BLACK FENCE" scrawled in blood, felt undeniably real, like genuine warnings rather than fleeting dreams. The precise, empty ticking of the clock mocked his mounting confusion.
A disturbing thought began to solidify: what if Torren's entire purpose was to manipulate him, and what if killing Torren was the ultimate trap? The idea of harming anyone hadn't crossed his mind until now, but the intricate layers of this place, its palpable desire to dictate his actions, were becoming terrifyingly clear. If Torren was merely a projection, then perhaps no real harm would be done. But what if he wasn't? And worse, what if taking a life was the very rule the system was designed to make him break? Aurex exhaled slowly, leaning back on his bed as his thoughts spiraled into a vortex of unsettling questions.
Later that evening, observing his family from the shadows of his doorway, Aurex noticed something undeniably "off." His sister, walking around the house with her usual smile, now held his attention with a plain brown, zipped leather handbag. It had always been there; he was certain. But until now, it had been a blurry, forgettable object, something his mind had refused to acknowledge. Now, its shape was startlingly clear, standing out like a beacon. "What the hell?" he thought, bewildered. He had watched his family for days, sometimes for hours, and something so prominent should never have escaped his notice. "Something wanted me to ignore it."
That realization sent a colder shiver down his spine than the floating eye ever had. It meant his perception was being actively manipulated, a piece of reality edited directly before his eyes. And worse, it meant the handbag was important. If he hadn't been able to see it before, then someone clearly didn't want him to. His thoughts snapped into sharp focus: he needed to get that bag.
The next morning, Aurex woke with the familiar, unnatural alertness that had accompanied the eye's visits. He dressed, forced a smile, and joined his family for breakfast, his gaze fixed on the handbag. There it sat, nestled beside his sister, neatly placed as if it had always belonged. Yet, he knew its truth now: it was never meant to be noticed. As his sister reached for her cup, the light brown bag remained near her elbow, silent, waiting. When she finished, she stood, reaching for it.
Aurex moved instinctively, intercepting her. "Let me get that for you," he offered, grabbing the strap. It was surprisingly light, perhaps three pounds at most. But the moment his fingers brushed the leather, a faint chill shot through his arm, spreading into his chest,a sensation like touching something ancient and powerful, cursed. Before he could peek inside, a hand, soft and cold, gently took the bag from his grip. His sister smiled. "I told you," she said, her voice light, "it's a secret." She giggled and walked away as if nothing had happened.
Aurex stood frozen. Her hand had been so cold, almost lifeless. And something else lingered: the faint pull he'd felt the instant he touched the bag, not physical, but deeper, like a chain tightening around his mind. He went to school as usual, but the world around him now felt inherently untrustworthy. The more he considered this bizarre reality, the more a single, terrifying thought solidified: if this place was so strange, why had no one tried to stop him? It could only mean one thing. This place wanted him to escape, but the "exit" he'd envisioned might not be an escape at all, but merely a continuation of this nightmare. He needed to find the real exit, if such a thing existed. And if the most guarded place was indeed the exit, then his path was clear: he had to observe everyone, track their destinations, and uncover the true way out.