The journal felt heavier than usual.
Ryouhei held it with both hands, watching as the pages rustled without wind. It was no ordinary book; it never had been. Since the day the system's voice ordered him to write his own ending, the words seemed to carry a will of their own. But now… now it felt like the journal was the one watching him.
A new line appeared, written in still-dripping ink:
> "Every act begins with a lie. What's yours?"
Ryouhei swallowed hard, offering no reply. The space around him crackled, as though reality itself were splitting. Sera turned toward him, alarmed.
—You opened it again? —she asked, but her voice sounded distant, like it came from a distant theater.
And then, the stage changed.
A flash of artificial light engulfed them. Ryouhei tried to move, but his feet stood on a glossy, fake-looking floor. The sky was blue… too blue. The clouds looked like actual cotton. Around them were quaint houses, pristine streets, perfectly symmetrical flowers. Everything was so… perfect it felt profoundly wrong.
A floating sign appeared in the air, suspended by nothing:
> "Welcome to the Kingdom of Luminas! Summoned Heroes, your mission is to defeat the Demon King and save the world!"
Sera scanned the area, lips pressed into a thin line. Ryouhei could see the tension in her shoulders. Even without words, both of them knew: this was a lie.
Suddenly, an over-the-top fanfare played. A group of five figures rushed toward them. They were the classic archetypes: the brave knight, the sweet mage, the mischievous thief, the radiant priestess, and the strong warrior. All of them wore smiles far too wide.
—You finally made it, main characters! —the mage cheered, surrounded by pink sparkles.
Ryouhei raised an eyebrow.
—Main characters?
—Of course! You're the Chosen Numbers 7,048 and 7,049! The latest arrivals! —laughed the knight, though his eyes were empty.
Everything sounded like a poorly rehearsed play. Every word, every gesture, had the texture of a script repeated too many times. But one of them didn't join in the cheerful chorus. A young man who seemed to belong to the group, but stayed back. He trembled.
Ryouhei noticed instantly. The young man avoided his gaze, as if terrified to look him in the eye. His lips moved, whispering over and over again:
—He… He's still watching us… We shouldn't have looked… shouldn't have…
Sera subtly grabbed his arm.
—Ryouhei… this world isn't real.
—No. —The journal still pulsed in his hand like a sick heart. It opened again on its own.
> "Act I: The Curtain Rises. Write your ending, or He will write it for you."
And for the first time, Ryouhei felt something deeper than uncertainty: a presence that didn't belong to any logical or emotional plane. An entity watching them from the cracks in this perfect world, hidden behind cheerful decorations and predictable dialogue.
A presence with no name, only a pronoun: Him.
The curtain had risen. And the play was about to become a nightmare.