After the payment was completed, a small can slid down through the machinery and came to rest safely just behind a small hatch.
It was his first time using one of those things, yet he already felt a bit guilty about spending hard-earned money on something so trivial.
Lately, he had been feeling more lonely, ironically so.
In the span of a month, he found himself directly surrounded by more people than he had ever interacted with in his entire life, becoming the target of envy, affection, and hostility alike.
And for good reason. It was suffocating. But the two feelings did not clash. On the contrary, they merged into something far worse.
Pretending to be someone else every second of the day, dealing with the pressure and consequences of every lie while being smothered by the lack of genuine human interaction… it was like a leak that never stopped, slowly submerging a cramped room.
'I wasn't made for this…'
When he opened the can, he felt the warm vapor of black coffee lightly burning his nostrils. The aroma was strange, far less expressive, befitting something industrialized.
He had no idea what canned coffee tasted like, but he had been curious to try it for some time.
The texture was liquid, without any creaminess. The flavor was familiar, a little milder, yet still carrying a hint of acidity.
It wasn't bad, but calling it good would also be an exaggeration. It would do, for as long as he was away from home.
'I wonder how they're doing…'
He sat down on a bench in one of the corridors, appreciating the silence of the night. His mind wandered, thinking of Margaret and the reliable Ruffian. He tried to avoid dwelling on it constantly… but Giovanni truly wished he could have continued his life the way it had been.
Becoming a sleeper came with benefits. His body seemed to have evolved to the peak of a young man's capabilities; his abilities were convenient, and the promise of fame and wealth was tempting to anyone.
But whenever his head touched the pillow, the only thought that crossed his mind was that he did not want to be there. Training as if death were on his heels and studying like a condemned man across countless esoteric subjects.
"What am I even thinking…"
He pressed the can against his forehead, pushing away the negativity. Brooding over his dissatisfaction was pointless… he couldn't lose his pace, much less his motivation.
Still, when that turbulent phase finally ended and he at last became an awakened… things would change. He would be able to support a decent home, Margaret could enjoy a wonderful retirement, and Michel would have the coolest big brother in history.
He just needed to survive.
As he stared at the wall in front of him, he detected a feminine silhouette approaching. He could discern the contours and details even without looking, and when he realized who it was, he straightened himself on the bench, shedding his slouched posture for a more dignified one.
"Giovanni…?"
The last place he expected to see Sofia was sneaking out to buy junk food in the middle of the night, groggy with sleep. He glanced at the can in his hand and then back at the girl.
"This isn't an hour for you to be awake, Sofia."
She pulled a sulky face at the hypocritical comment.
"I… don't want to hear that from you!"
It was meant to be a shout, but the hour demanded restraint. She walked over to the machine and placed her order. Giovanni watched in silence, waiting to see her choice.
A can of decaffeinated tea settled into the lower compartment.
Neither of them took the initiative to speak; both seemingly lost in their own thoughts. In the end, Sofia was the first to give in, unable to endure the strange silence.
"Why did you come… here?"
Giovanni stopped mid-sip, resting the can on the bench.
"I'm not sleepy."
Sofia seemed dissatisfied with the answer and pressed further.
"So you have insomnia? Too stressed? Had too much sugar?"
Giovanni resisted the temptation to simply say "yes."
"No. I literally don't feel the physiological need to sleep… quite convenient."
It had been strange. For weeks, Giovanni searched for the origin of his lack of drowsiness, hunger, and thirst. In the end, the only suspect was the memory he was always wearing.
In its description, it said that the king was punished in the cruelest way possible: with eternity. Apparently, that was what it referred to.
Giovanni could stand still, gathering dust in a warehouse for weeks or months, and he wouldn't die. It was a powerful ability, especially in the Dream Realm, where resources were scarce.
Sofia wore an incredulous expression, doubting her own ears.
"R-Really… that makes sense."
"Now it's my turn to ask. What are you doing here?"
She adjusted herself on the bench, looking uncomfortable with the topic.
"I had a nightmare and wanted to… clear my head."
Once again, both fell silent, uncertain how to continue. This time, Giovanni broke it, driven by a bit of curiosity.
"And what was your nightmare like?"
She hadn't expected the boy to show any interest in such silly things and stumbled over her words.
"It's… a recurring nightmare. Sometimes I dream I'm in a very dark place. No matter which direction I go, it only feels like I'm going deeper."
It sounded like a terrible place to be. Giovanni had had awful experiences crossing areas where he couldn't see anything.
"But sometimes, I can see a faint ray of light. It always seems to come from a crack in the ceiling. From up there, I hear voices, laughter. Like people celebrating. In the end, I always stay there, waiting, until I wake up."
Giovanni listened attentively, imagining what she described.
"Does the nightmare scare you?"
"Of course not! I'm not a… child, idiot."
She protested in an irritated tone, only to turn her face away, embarrassed. Whenever Giovanni saw Sofia, he grew curious about her strange personality.
Her shyness and confidence, kindness and hostility. It was hard to tell how her moods worked. What mattered to him was that the young woman didn't seem like a bad person and helped him more than he could repay. Without her, his studies would be in shambles.
Sofia seemed to regain her composure and returned the question. The two cans were slowly emptying, their warmth gradually fading.
"How do you manage to… be like that?"
Giovanni raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.
"Indifferent, I mean. To be honest, I can't even think properly about what I'll do after the solstice. It feels like my life only revolved around that ever since I left that horrible prison. But you seem to… have everything under control."
She muttered irritably. The boy didn't answer for a while, and Sofia even began to wonder if she had crossed a line.
"Can I tell you a story?"
It was an unexpected response, leaving Sofia as confused as she was intrigued. She nodded, a little anxious.
"Once, a simple, fearful farmer heard a calling from his god. That man's people were suffering attacks, innocent blood soaked the land, and terror plagued his kin. It was his mission to bring an end to it. Yet the man feared and doubted, believing himself unfit for the task entrusted to him. He asked for three signs so that he could carry out his plan."
Sofia fidgeted nervously with her fingers, trying to catch every meaning in the boy's words.
"Did his god grant the signs?"
"Yes. When the man offered a sacrifice to his lord, flames consumed it entirely, accepting the gift. On another night, he placed a bundle of wool on the ground and asked that only it be wet with dew, not the ground. The next morning, the ground was dry. On the following night, he asked for new proof, the opposite of the first. Now only the wool should be wet, and once again, when dawn came, so it was."
Giovanni stared into the darkness, avoiding eye contact.
"In the end, with only three hundred men, an empty jar, a trumpet, and a torch, he brought down an unbeatable army of more than a hundred thousand men."
Sofia kept fidgeting anxiously, her gaze darting between Giovanni's face and the floor.
"Do you think I could be… like him?"
She asked, seeking an honest answer.
"As long as you have a greater purpose, something that guides you forward, it's fine to doubt or feel fear. At the most important moment, when it's time to act, your body will move."
Giovanni couldn't tell what was going through Sofia's mind at that moment, but he hoped it was enough to convey his feelings.
She might think it was a lesson meant for her and her fears, which wouldn't be the end of the world. But in truth, that was how he found a way to confess his own feelings without breaking character.
One last question was asked that dawnless night, in Sofia's now softer, sleepier voice.
"Can you… keep me company?"
Giovanni didn't need to answer. Staying seated there was enough. After a few minutes, he heard the calm breathing of someone deep asleep.
He stood up, picked up the cans, and tossed them into the trash. Sofia was completely out, likely exhausted from hours upon hours of classes and intense combat training.
Carefully, he lifted her into his arms and crossed the corridors toward the dormitories where her room was located. He laid her on the bed and closed the door.
'Good night.'
He thought to himself as he left the area behind. Instead of going to sleep, as he probably should have, whether he needed it or not, he decided to go up to the surface and practice his transmutation once more.
In his mind, the description of her nightmare replayed again and again. What must it feel like to live in darkness, searching for a way out eternally beyond reach?
Or worse, why would the people above choose not to help someone right below them?
It was just a nightmare, like any other people have when they sleep.
Even so, Giovanni couldn't help but keep it lingering in the back of his mind.
'I hope that one day she… reaches the light.'