Minutes had passed since their last exchange. Morphy was only now starting to truly regain his senses and examine his surroundings.
The room he was in looked like a cafe or something trying to be one. It was square in shape, warmly lit from above, and neatly arranged. Behind the counter stood a tightly sealed door, destination unknown. The lighting made everything appear normal. Too normal.
But wasn't a café supposed to have customers?
Here, there were none.
After observing enough, Morphy slowly lowered his head back onto the couch, groaning slightly. Thoughts swirled in his mind, but before he could make sense of them, a voice snapped him out of it.
Flike was speaking again, saying something, but Morphy couldn't focus.
The voices he'd been hearing lately had evolved from vague murmurs into something else. Something clearer. Words began to take shape now, though they still made no sense.
"Knight" was the only one he could consistently pick out.
It echoed, sharp and strange. And somehow, it meant nothing to him.
Suddenly, Flike reached over and placed a small, capsule-like pill into Morphy's mouth, handing him a glass of water.
Morphy didn't need to hear instructions to know what to do.
Despite the piercing pain in his skull, he forced himself upright just enough to swallow it down before slumping back into the seat.
The moment the pill dissolved, the voices began to fade, like distant static dying in an old radio. And the silence.
For the first time in weeks, Morphy could think. Really think.
He touched his temples and took a deep breath.
Whoever this man Flike was, Morphy owed him more than he could ever repay.
Now seated upright, still recovering but far more lucid, he finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at him.
"Why would the government go this far over a headache?"
Flike didn't turn his head.
"If it were just a headache, sure. This would all be an overreaction. But what you experienced wasn't just pain. It was your mind beginning to lose the barrier between reality and dream.
We call it Dreambreak."
Morphy blinked. Dreambreak?
"You've probably seen it on the new viral headlines, insane crimes, the 'Dream Butcher' they keep talking about. All of them are people gifted—or cursed—with powers that don't belong in this world."
Flike's voice slowed as he chose his words.
"That pain you felt was the threshold. A signal.
And I have to admit... not many people would sit calmly after that kind of break, listening to someone they've never met explain the impossible.
You've handled it surprisingly well."
Morphy stared at the floor. For everything he had just heard, he somehow felt like he understood even less than before. Just as he opened his mouth to ask another question, a sound interrupted him.
Ding.
The bell above the sealed door rang out.
Flike turned to the entrance as someone stepped inside.
"Hello, Vexis."