In Noah's nightmare, Noah stood in front of the mirror, touching and feeling his face, pinching his cheeks and pulling them, confirming that this was real, and indeed, it was real.
Livia said, clapping her hands to capture everyone's attention, "W-well, let's start the play."
"N-no, wait—" Noah tried to oppose, but his mouth was silenced involuntarily, and a square glowed with a faint white light around the pupil of his right eye.
"...Let's begin," Noah whispered softly, and after a few seconds of gathering his breath, he walked through the giant red curtains before him and passed to the other side.
As Noah slowly opened his eyes, he woke up in his small room. The faint sunlight slipped through a glass window decorated with colorful curtains bearing simple drawings of bird wings, fluttering slightly with the morning breeze.
The walls were painted a soft blue, adorned with cartoon paintings and hanging toys here and there. In a corner of the room, small neatly arranged shelves held illustrated books and models of heroes and fantasy stories.
His small wooden bed was covered with a bright colorful blanket, and his pillow bore marks of use and softness earned from years of sleep and comfort. On the small table beside the bed, a half-frozen metallic robot toy gleamed, and in front of it lay an open sketchbook with scattered colored pencils.
The room was filled with the scent of warm wood and the fragrance of new toys, and a light breeze fluttered the pages of his notebook as if inviting him to a new day full of adventures and imagination.
Then Noah heard a voice calling him from downstairs, a voice full of femininity but gentle and tender like a mother's warmth calling his name, saying:
"Altair, wake up, come eat your breakfast."
Altair's ears twitched slightly, his personality blending with Noah's for a few seconds until his pupils fluttered.
"A... Mom...?" Altair thought to himself, stunned. Her voice was full of tenderness and kindness, a softness Noah had never felt before. Then Altair got down from his bed, and without tidying his bed or clothes, hurried out of the room, his messy hair moving with the breeze. Altair quickly opened his bedroom door and entered the narrow hallway connecting the upper floor to the rest of the house. The walls were painted a yellowish-white, adorned with simply framed old family photos and small wooden shelves holding some statues and stacked books.
The morning light sneaked in from the upper floor windows, filling the place with warm, pure light that reflected on the faded wooden floor sprinkled with tiny dust butterflies. A long carpet with faint colors stretched along the hallway, covering some rough patches of the floor.
Altair hurried down the stairs, the wooden steps creaking lightly with each step, and the wooden walls on both sides carried the scent of old wood mixed with hints of cold morning air coming from downstairs. The sunlight reflected on surfaces with a faint shimmer.
Altair reached the ground floor. The world around him seemed to vanish and disappear as he focused only on his mother's voice echoing in his ears like a sweet melody. He arrived at the kitchen and found his mother standing there, wearing a simple cream-colored apron over her usual home dress. Her hair was tied back casually, with some strands gently falling on the sides of her face, reflecting kindness and calmness born from years of family care.
She was skillfully and attentively moving pots on the stove. The smell of food emanating from the pots filled the kitchen with warmth and familiarity. Natural light filtered through the large window above the sink, highlighting the details of her hands carefully and precisely handling the ingredients.
Altair's eyes glistened slightly as he moved closer to her until she noticed his presence and turned toward him. His happiness didn't last long because as soon as she turned, her face was confused and foggy like any other person he had met during these cursed plays, and his smile vanished quickly.
"You finally came. Sit down, breakfast is almost ready," his mother said softly. Even though she was just a mother made by the nightmare, her tone was not without tenderness and warmth.
Altair obeyed and sat at the nearby wooden table. At that moment, he noticed his father, Neriah, or rather, Cassian, Altair's father, holding a newspaper and silently reading headlines printed in large black letters: "Dangerous Armed Man Escaped Police Last Night."
Cassian looked through the corners of his eyes, noticing Altair's confused expression focused on his mother's movements, then smiled lightly and asked:
"Today's a holiday, right?"
This caught Altair's attention. He turned to him and understood that it was the weekend, so he didn't have to go to school today.
"That's right," Altair said with his sharp childish tone.
"Most likely your friends are playing outside. Finish your breakfast and join them."
"Okay…" Altair said, struggling to fake enthusiasm but feeling deep embarrassment eating him from inside.
Then, his mother placed the dishes on the long wooden table with calm but attentive movements. In front of Altair, she placed his favorite plate, from which the smell of hot food rose, filling the place with the warmth of the morning. Then she turned toward his father, Cassian, placing a slightly larger plate in front of him with a faint smile reflecting the usual affection between them.
After that, she pulled her chair and sat beside them, placing a plate in front of herself as well, filled with what she had prepared with her own hands. The sunlight reflected on the three plates, adding a golden touch that made the food shine with light and gold. She reached out to take a piece of bread, her eyes following Altair and Cassian as they started to eat, smiling as if this moment alone was enough to fill her.
Altair kept eating slowly while stealing glances at his mother secretly.
"...She really acts like a real mother... while he..." Altair thought to himself, then looked through the corners of his eyes at Cassian, only to see him eating quickly as if there were no tomorrow.
"...I can't even remember my real parents to feel lonely properly... You're lucky, Altair."
———————
Outside Noah's nightmare, in Sector 1, in the monitoring room, everyone gathered there—from Aria, Lou Yan, and Violet, who found the blood, to Sirius, Neriah, Livia, Kieran, and Enel. Each took a corner of the room. Enel was on his knees examining the blood with a needle, drawing some to preserve it for later tests, while Violet hid behind him trying not to vomit again. Neriah and Kieran examined files and papers on the tables, while Livia and Aria stood watching everyone work like bosses. Lou Yan, feeling embarrassed, had been placed outside to guard the room and make sure no one entered or eavesdropped.
Inside, Sirius was standing near the window that was dripping blood as if the wooden frame itself was bleeding. His eyes followed the flow of blood as it grew and spread until the blood pool covered half the room.
"I haven't run tests yet, but this is probably the blood of the guard who was working here," Enel said, catching the attention of Livia and Aria.
"Jarod's copies don't bleed, so this must be the real person's blood. But... why? Did the killer kill him? Don't they work together? Remember, Sirius... remember..." Sirius thought to himself, but all his thoughts and images were distorted and broken. Then he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Damn that bitch," Sirius thought.
Sirius looked out the window toward the trees and noticed something shining among the leaves and branches, well hidden.
"Was that bastard watching all this this way?" Sirius thought, then ignored it and turned away to help the others in the investigation.
Outside, on top of one of the tall and huge buildings inside the university grounds, Cyperian sat on the edge, his old robes fluttering in the air while holding a tablet whose screen showed everything happening inside the monitoring room through the trees and branches.
"That girl was right, these drones have many advantages," Cyperian thought with amusement.
Then, his shadow cracked and shattered to reveal a dark vortex. Cyperian turned with a wide smile on his face as a man emerged from it, wearing a tattered black cloak covering his entire body, and a red oni mask—the famous killer himself.
"Hello, number 54," Cyperian said with a playful smile.
The man stood still, without movement or saying a word, silently looking at Cyperian.
"Silent as usual, huh? It's okay, I've gotten used to it already," Cyperian said, then stood up and brushed nonexistent dust off his clothes before turning to the man and opening his arms wide.
"Tada~," Cyperian said in a flamboyant tone.
An uncomfortable silence spread between them, and Cyperian felt anxious and confused by the cold air until the back of his neck prickled from the chill.
"Okay, just don't kill me... anyway, let's welcome one of the candidates to join our group now, please come forward!"
Then, the man heard footsteps coming from behind and half-turned just to see Mr. Jarod walking toward them. He stopped, leaving space between them, and bowed his head down to Cyperian.
"I-greet Mr. 'Master of The Chapel' w-with all my respect, p-please accept my loyalty and devotion," Jarod said nervously and awkwardly. It was the first time he met Cyperian face to face. All their conversations and orders had been through number 54.
"No need to worry around me, just don't mess things up, and you'll be one of us," Cyperian said with a wide smile. Then Jarod lifted his head, nodded in agreement, still embarrassed.
"Okay, with this, all the pieces are in place except one. Hehehe, wake up quickly, 'our little Puzzle,' the shows don't start without their main character."