"Time to become a puppet."
Under the full moon, white flowers swayed in the gentle night breeze across an endless field, their petals catching the moonlight and illuminating two blood-red figures in elegant dresses.
Before Nero, battered and too weak to stand, Nanna smiled—a wicked yet strangely tender expression. She cradled Nero's head in her arms.
It was a gentle but chilling embrace, laced with the scent of blood. Powerless to resist, Nero could only watch as her face was drawn toward Nanna's side, her trembling lips inching closer to the gruesome wound.
Instinct screamed that if she drank the blood seeping from that gash, it was over. Nanna would reshape her in the dream, turning her into a puppet demon for her own use—just like Nero's father had been twisted into the "Black Knight" by the Demon Emperor.
But she was helpless to stop it.
The arms holding her were soft yet cold, firm and unyielding. No matter how desperately Nero tried to muster the strength to fight back, her lips inevitably pressed against the wound on Nanna's body.
It was over.
In Nanna's embrace, a cold, viscous liquid forced its way past Nero's lips.
Her consciousness sank into darkness.
…
...
...…
"…!!"
Nero's eyes snapped open, as if jolting awake from a nightmare.
The dimly lit room had no lights on, only the blood-red moonlight filtering through the curtains, faintly illuminating the space. Nero threw off the covers, rising from the damp, icy bed, and flicked on the bedside lamp.
Light flooded the room. Nero glanced around at the familiar decor, her bare feet touching the cool wooden floor, confirming this was her bedroom.
What the hell?
She looked back at the bed. Brownish bloodstains on the white sheets formed a vague human shape, as if whispering that her earlier injuries weren't just a dream.
But if that was true, how had she ended up back in her apartment?
Or… had she?
The air, tinged with the scent of aromatherapy, prickled her nose as a cold sense of dread crept through her. In the second-layer dream, Nanna had defeated her, forcing her blood down her throat. By all accounts, Nero should be under her control now, a mindless puppet.
Yet here she was, lying safely in her apartment bed, as if nothing had happened?
Unless—
Nero glanced down at her bare body, grabbed a white dress from the wardrobe, and slipped it on. Then, cautiously, as if afraid to disturb something, she slowly pushed open the bedroom door.
Peering through the crack, she looked outside.
"Nero-lo-lo—!!!"
A cry, half-sob, half-joy, rang out from the other side. The door was yanked open, and Nero, caught off guard, stumbled forward into someone's fierce embrace.
"You're finally awake!"
Chihiro Aine, on the verge of tears, clung to Nero, burying her face in her shoulder.
What the hell was this?
Nero's brain short-circuited as she slowly took in the scene beyond the door. Her apartment's living room was brightly lit, and it wasn't just Aine—Sosei, Riki, Rena, and Hii-chan were all there, sprawled on the couch. Seeing Nero step out, they wore expressions of relief or shock.
"…What's going on?" Nero asked, standing rigid, her voice hesitant.
The scene was so far from what she'd expected that she immediately went on high alert.
The worst-case scenario hadn't been ruled out. For all she knew, she was still in Nanna's clutches.
"Let me explain."
A slightly androgynous voice came from the corner of the room. In the shadows of the unlit dining area, a figure slowly emerged.
Kairi Yahata.
Nero's tension spiked. This was one of the demons sharing Nanna's power—she had to stay on guard.
But Aine and the others didn't seem surprised, suggesting Kairi had been here for a while.
"Glad to see you're recovering so quickly," Kairi said politely before getting to the point. "I get that you're confused, but trust me for now. I'm the one who pulled you out of the second-layer dream."
Nero's eyes lit up at that. She placed a hand on Aine's shoulder, gently prying her off, and looked at Kairi. "You?"
Kairi nodded. "Yup."
Aine lifted her head, still sniffling. "It's true! Kairi came to us, said you were hurt and unconscious, but—"
Her voice broke as tears spilled over. "I didn't realize you were that hurt! Your body, it was…"
Aine couldn't finish.
"You were in rough shape," Riki chimed in. Her tone was complicated—given her rocky history with Nero—but there was genuine concern there. "Mostly surface wounds, but there were so many, and you lost a lot of blood. It looked bad."
Nero knew her own condition well enough, and Riki's description tracked. Thanks to her demonic healing, her skin should be smooth again by now.
At most, there'd be some lingering bloodstains.
Nero caught Aine's hand as it reached for her back, then fielded her rapid-fire questions: "Do your wounds still hurt? Are you still bleeding? Should we get medicine? No, wait, bandages—but we don't know how!"
Kairi sighed, exasperated, addressing the panicking Aine. "Like I said, she doesn't need any of that."
"But…"
"She's right," Nero said, wiping Aine's face with the hem of her dress before fully peeling her off. "Chill, I'm fine."
Then she turned to Kairi. "Is this for real?"
She still couldn't quite buy it. Part of her distrust was aimed at Kairi, but more than that, it was the layered, Russian-doll nature of the dream world itself that made her wary.
Sensing her skepticism, Kairi explained. "This world's weird. It's a dream, but everything in it is real. You've probably noticed that."
Nero nodded. True enough—her weapons, including Yamato, worked just fine even in the second-layer dream.
"So, aside from the sleeping ones, everyone brought into the dream comes with their physical body. Not long ago, I sensed your fight near an abandoned factory and kept watch from the shadows. Right before you drank her blood, I pulled you into the shadows and got you out."