An endless string of memories fills my head as my eyes snap open. Countless images of my repeated worlds are forcibly processed all at once; far different than in the deep dream world.

I have woken to my true self. My consciousness has shifted back to its original owner, the body that was born and raised in this world. Without any of the props the dreamworld may have granted, I receive these memories simply as a human.

My brain convulses, sending my entire body into shock as I attempt to restrain my mental faculties. However, the endless depth of information proves too much, and everything breaks. Without disconnecting the many medical articles applied to my body, I thrash violently, falling out of my theater-style chair and crashing onto the cold tile in a dark room.

My mind replays a barrage of images of the girls crying, smiling, and dying. In addition, I recall countless images of the world ending. My stomach rejects the onslaught, and I vomit acid onto the floor. My eyesight goes blurry, my chest squeezes my heart like a vice grip, and my hands and arms shake furiously. A machine is making a loud beeping sound, but I can't even make out its pattern. The sound of my own accelerated heart beat overrides everything, and makes my entire body quake.

In between expulsions, my voice cracks with shrill cries. Before long, several white coats burst into the room, one of them restraining me while the other jabs a needle into my chest. With one last gasp, my consciousness cuts out.

I wake again to find myself in a different room. The white walls and bright fluorescent lights burn my newly opened eyes, a sharp pain assaulting my head.

I move to shield my eyes with my hands, but find something restricting their movement. I force my eyes open again, and discover handcuffs latching my wrists to the bedrails of a white hospital recliner.

I kick my feet, only to find the same problem. Fear overtakes me, and I thrash about to no avail, unable to form a coherent thought.

"JC, you have to regain your wits," a man calls from the closed door. "Otherwise, you will not ever be able to leave this place."

I recognize the voice as the man who once counseled me before I began the dreamscape project.

"Doctor… what's happened to me?" I ask in a meek mumble, my heartbeat beginning to slow down as a fog fills my head.

"It appears you've undergone a great shock," he calmly answers, bringing a small stool in front of me and sitting down, revealing his clean-shaven face and white hair. "During your work, your brain was forced to endure a non-physical trauma that has effectively crippled it. The Director is not allowing anyone access to your memories, so we only have normal neurology to resort to. Fortunately, a brain scan showed no abnormalities, so we believe you have simply experienced a trauma so extreme it has forced you to reboot your own mental faculties, so to speak. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I understand," I answer in a grainy voice. "I'm sedated, aren't I?"

"Yes," he says with a polite nod, "To keep you from destroying another room."

I survey the plain white room, which houses nothing but medical equipment and several monitoring machines. "What do I need to do to get out of here?"

"Just show that you can behave normally without any medication," he answers with a smile. "I believe the Director wants to question you the moment you have been declared fit to return to work. Of course, you may take some time off before returning."

"What about the girls?" I ask, my face sinking.

"It seems their bodies will pass very soon," he answers, lowering his gaze. "Right around the time you returned, their conditions took a turn for the worse. It's been three days, but it seems their comatose state is going to be impossible to maintain for much longer. I suggest you regain yourself within a week if you want to say goodbye."

Unable to muster a response, I simply nod. "Well, I'd like to talk about your head, if you can," he continues, scooting his stool closer to me before beginning a monotonous line of questioning. Wishing I could switch places with someone, I tune him out, and fall asleep.

To my dismay, however, I go no further than a light sleep devoid of any dream, before waking. The doctor is gone, and I'm left alone in the bright room. The brief respite my half-sleep brought is crushed to bits when my memories materialize and remind me of reality.

Instead of thrashing, this time my body simply falls limp as tears glide down my jawline. Several different white coats enter the room, run several tests, and leave without any interaction with me.

After hours alone, I wake from another half-sleep without a dream. The sedative has worn off, and my body regains enough energy to match the emotions flaring up inside me. I begin smashing my fists into the bed rails, bending them but failing to break them. My silent tears, which seemed to have never ended throughout my sleep, turn to violent hysterics as my mind replays the bittersweet expressions they made before I disembarked from the train.

Nobody comes, and eventually my fit loses steam, and I fall into yet another half-sleep devoid of dreams. Hours later, the therapist returns, and continues his familiar line of questioning before departing, leaving me no different. Hours pass the same as the previous ones, and as my breaths grow weaker with each hour, days eventually pass by.

Without any knowledge of the time of day, or what it looks like outside, I begin to lose my grasp on the notion of time itself. The more I breathe, the more time passes. That is all my mind has left. For if I move a muscle, think about hunger or thirst, or desire anything, I will remember the dear pieces of my heart that I've lost.

Once more, the therapist intrudes my endless cycle of breathing for the sake of passing time. With a grim look on his face, he stands in front of me so that I cannot look away from him. The lights in the room seem brighter than ever as he opens his mouth, professing something I can no longer comprehend. That is, until he says their names.

"Mary Reid and Mirei Shibutani have been declared deceased. Now, I do not think you are ready to leave this room, but the Director has requested you come to identify their bodies and see them off. Your medicine will have worn off by now, so I will ask that you maintain control to the best of your ability. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

Having uttered the first sound in days, I allow the man to undo my restraints, and follow him out of the room without assistance. Everything feels numb, but I’m compelled to move by the thought of seeing them at last.

The dull white walls of the lab lead us to a door that haunts my memory. The man leading me opens it, and stands aside. I enter the dimly lit room, and my ears are instantly assaulted by the sound of wailing. Two men stand at each of the beds, bawling hysterically over the pale figures adorning the beds like two works of angelic art.

One of them, whose overpowering cries triggers a childhood memory, looks up at me in abject terror.

"JC!" he cries, his hands shaking. "I thought I had been prepared for this, but I never could have been!"

The tears pour from the man's gruff face onto the bed, and onto the girl whose shaggy black hair is shorter than I remember. Upon seeing her captivating pale face, my breathing stops. I turn to the other bed, where a man in an expensive suit is silently weeping over the girl whose pale-pink hair perfectly matches her nearly fluorescent skin.

"Is she truly gone from this world?" the thin man bemoans, clutching onto her white hands which lay crossed at the end of her disheveled curls.

"JC, you've been working hard for them, haven't you?" Kaspar says, unable to control his whimpers. "Even though you told me it was over, you were still trying. So, tell me- is my girl really gone?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation as the numbness is washed away by a rising fire in my chest. "They are gone from this world."

"This world…?" the Shibutani head mutters, finally regarding me with sullen eyes.

"They have passed in this world, but they exist in the other world."

"What other world, JC?" Kaspar pleas as they both look at me with desperate eyes.

"The world of my dreams," I respond, letting my breathing resume like normal. "It may be hard for you to believe, but the world in my dreams is real. And not only do they live within it, but they are consciously living. They’re feeling, hurting, crying, smiling, and loving. I’ve seen it myself, and I may be able to see it again; and show you both."

Their eyes grow wider as they hang onto my words. "However, that world is immeasurably far from us, now," I continue, looking them in the eyes. "Before we talk about that, it is important to accept that they truly are gone from this world."

Their eyes sink in unison, and they return to the bedsides of their daughters, silently weeping over them. "This is all my fault," the Shibutani head mumbles, holding his head down in a bow before beholding Kaspar with a pitiful look. "You have every right to kill me right here. I'm sure the young man will protect you. So, go ahead."

"I don't blame you," Kaspar mutters, smiling weakly over chattered teeth, tears streaming down his cheeks into his grizzly beard. "I can't say I would’ve acted differently in your position. Besides, you're suffering worse than any retribution I could imagine."

"I see," the polite man responds, sitting down next to his daughter and silently laying his head next to hers.

"JC, can you tell us more about this other world?" Kaspar asks, sniffling as he strokes Mary's slender arm.

"I will," I answer with a nod, maintaining my posture. "I’ll explain more, later. For, now, I just want you both to take solace in knowing that they live."

"Thank you, JC," he says through whimpers, holding her hand tight. "You kept your word… thank you."

"It was for my own selfish wishes," I mutter in response, offering him a pitiful smile.

"How can you show us?" the Shibutani head inquires, the energy in his voice returning slightly. "Your memories?"

"That's right," I reply with a nod. "If I can, I’ll show you the parts of my memory that include them in that world. Of course, you'll need to be connected to our equipment here. Which means you will have to sign a contract with Worldbeaters."

"I already have one," the Shibutani head answers. "But I will amend it to state my intent to work with you. As a test subject, or whatever is necessary."

"Please, let me do the same," Kaspar pleas, his eyes welling up with another wave of tears.

“I’ll work on that. In exchange, I want you two to assist me in finding three people. I don’t know their identity yet, but I am confident we can find them together."

"You will have every resource the Shibutani Group holds at your disposal," the polite man declares.

"And I’ll do whatever I can," Kaspar adds, closing his eyes in solemn solace.

"Then, I will let you say your final goodbyes," I state without any trace of emotion as I turn my back on them.

"Wait, JC," Kaspar cries. "Didn't you come to do the same? This must be very hard for you, too. I can see it in your face- you've gone through hell. So, go ahead- it's okay to bare your heart here."

"It's okay," I answer, shooting him a meaningful smile as I continue toward the door. "I've said my goodbyes. They already know how I feel."

My hand grips the door-handle firmly, and, with a deep breath, I open it. Stopping, I turn my head in their direction once more as they both nod at me while clutching their daughters' hands, tears silently streaming down their faces.

"I hope you'll show that same strength tomorrow. You have a reason for living, after all."

Without waiting for their reactions, I let the door shut behind me. My clenched right hand opens, revealing small wounds lined with smeared blood across my palm.

"You're finally back."

Instinctively hiding my bleeding palm, I look up at the bearded, bespectacled man whose body I once died in. "Mathias," I mutter, surprised to see him instead of the doctor waiting for me.

"Yes, it's me," he replies, smiling as he smacks my shoulder with a firm hand. "I was told to come retrieve you, as long as you feel ready. So… are you?"

"I am," I answer with a smile of my own.

"You're sure?" he asks, his hand tightly gripping on my shoulder. "You've been through a lot. These things take time to remedy… it's okay if you can't go back to a normal life yet."

"I want to," I respond swiftly and determinedly. "That's all that matters, right? I’ll manage my personal troubles."

"Right," he says, releasing a chuckle as his grip loosens. "That’s just like you. Just do me a favor- try to rely on others once in a while, okay?"

I glance down at my bleeding palm, and then at my shirt sleeve, still wet with Kaspar's tears, and finally at the hand on my shoulder. "I can try that," I exclaim, smiling as I reach my bloodied hand out. Without hesitation, he takes it, grinning back at me.

After a moment, we separate, and Mathais adjusts his glasses before ushering me down the hallway. "Why don't you wash up and change?" he says, smiling as he gestures to the nearest door.

I enter the vacant restroom alone, and survey my pathetic figure. My white button-down and black slacks are worn down, and too loose for my malnourished figure. My thin face has grown a faint beard, and my hair is almost as long as it was in my teenage years.

My hands move on their own, finding a razor blade and scissors left in a basket for me. After grooming myself, I take a hot shower and change into the clothes left for me. The smaller black suit fits me better than what I'd been wearing, which gives me the confidence to stand up straight as I stare blankly into the mirror. After brushing my teeth all that’s left is to use product to slick my trimmed hair back, before stepping into brand new black dress shoes and returning to the hallway.

Mathais greets me with a smile, and proceeds down the hallway. I follow him to a familiar door, and go in alone. The small, white-walled room decorated with several processing machines feels barer than ever, down to the lone metal chair in the middle that seats a lanky blond man with cold black eyes.

"I have been awaiting you for some time," the Director calls in a smooth voice as the door shuts behind me, leaving the two of us alone.

"It's been a while, Director Ivanov," I respond, forcing his brow to wrinkle before he can catch himself.

"It seems our operation ended up failing in several ways," he says, standing to his feet and relaxing his facial expression. "It is regretful that your mind collapsed as a result, but it seems there is no reason to carry on any further pretense."

"I would like to get to my report, as well," I answer, standing up straight opposite him.

"I've been waiting a very long time for this result," he says, crossing his arms as he smirks. "Aku no longer exists. The girls have died. It’s been six months, yet Shiva has not come. And only you have returned from the dreamscape, yet it seems you've not obtained a trace of Aku's power. So please, go on; tell me what happened in that world."

"I guided the girls to the ending I sought," I recall confidently, "and had them help me overcome what I struggled against for so long. I discovered the root of my dream, and forced Aku to submit to my will. However, I decided that his power alone would not be enough to protect this world from Shiva. I decided to return alone, severing my connection with Aku and ending the cycle of repeating these worlds to avoid the inevitable destruction."

"And? Surely you would not return empty-handed, having erased Aku, our only fallback measure. You must have found something better. Which is why Shiva has not come. But, what?"

"The highest of Shiva's six arms, Indra," I declare stoically. His facial expression loses all facade for a moment, sinking to a shudder.

"We will use his power instead," I continue. "I've made a deal with him, which will not only hold off Shiva's assault, but will lure Indra here alone. When that happens, we will receive him like you received Aku. From there, we will use him, along with our technology, to turn the tables on Shiva."

"And how do you propose we lure him here? What deal did you make?"

"We find the other three arms, and gather them- along with you and my parents."

"So, you do know everything?" he asks, a shadow cast over his calm face. "Could it be that you broke protocol and saw my memories?"

"I'm not sure it could be considered breaking protocol, especially with the meddling you did,” I answer unflinchingly. “I’ll just say that you had no better option than to tell me everything. After all, it serves both of our interests."

"I suppose there's no way I’ll ever find out any different, is there?" he says, his eyes narrowing upon me. "Since you effectively destroyed all evidence of your actions in that world. I have no choice to take your word, then. Like you aptly put, it serves us both. This world has never lived to see this new year, after all. What happens next is beyond anything Laplace can predict. Already, things are happening around the world that we have not foreseen. Besides small events, it's not predicted much of anything."

"That’s what you wanted, isn't it?" I ask, my eyes glued to his. "A world you haven't experienced yet."

"Yes, it is very freeing," he answers with a slight smile. "Whatever your methods, I am satisfied with the result. As a matter of fact," his voice trails off as he turns his back, taking several steps before stopping to face the inoperative processing machine's speaker. "Since things have taken such a turn, I think I will use this opportunity to find my own change of scenery. You see, in these six months I’ve taken ownership of the entire World Neuroscience Institute. I’ve put off visiting the other locations while awaiting your return, but now I can travel without worry."

"Why?" I mutter, raising my brow at him.

"Now that you have returned, even powerless, I can leave this place in your hands," he says, facing me with a stern expression.

"You don't mean…" I mutter slowly, unable to stop my jaw from falling.

"That is, as long as you will be mentally fit to handle such responsibility," he says, narrowing his gaze on me once more. "You've had a trying week, after all. It does not take an expert to see that you are not yet out of the woods."

"My mind…" I mutter, looking down for a moment. A glance at my wounded hand draws a slow breath from my lips, and I calmly bring my gaze back to him. "I was deeply affected by the psychological provocations of the experiment," I declare without hesitation. " Now that it’s over, I just need a bit more time to recuperate. My mind… is wounded, but it is no longer broken. Therefore, I can and will accept all responsibility for this facility. So please, feel confident in leaving it in my hands."

"A satisfactory response," he says, chuckling out of his nose. "You have certainly grown in spite of your wounds."

"It's because of them, sir," I respond with a weak smile.

"Very well," he mutters, turning his head back toward the empty machine. "I look forward to hearing your reports in regards to Indra. Just keep in mind that I've put you in this position, and be sure not to do anything that would force me to remove you from it. After all, I will know if you break protocol in this world."

"Understood, sir," I answer, bowing my head. "I will keep your interest at heart. We have always been on similar wavelengths, after all."

"Is that so?" he mumbles, not waiting for a response. "Ah, right. Now that you are Director- would you like to see your parents?"

"That’s where I plan on going next," I respond, raising my head as I take a deep breath. "I’ll be going, then."

"Certainly," he says in a monotone voice. "When you are ready to return to work, you will be given all the necessary resources. I expect to hear from you soon."

"And you will," I say with certainty as I turn and make for the door. "Farewell, Director."

I exit the room, and find Mathais waiting patiently. With a short nod, I proceed down the hall toward a room I've never seen in this world, my chest aflutter. With a deep breath, I open the door to a scarcely lit room, where several monitors on opposite-facing desks cast a white glow on two faces.

The middle-aged man and woman turn their weary-looking faces to me, which slowly transform into shocked expressions. "Jean?" says the captivated woman, who, despite her time-worn features, remains as pretty as I remember. Her hair, while shorter, even retains its pure black hue.

"It's really you," the bespectacled man mutters, his thinned hair glowing white with the light of the monitor. "We did not expect you to come and see us."

"My Jean…" the woman cries, standing and approaching me with a look of desperation.

"I go by JC now," I mutter, gazing blankly at her.

"That's not… after me?" she mutters slowly, her eyes wide.

"No," I answer, shaking my head. "Well, maybe at first. But now it stands for Jean-Cathal. That is the name given to me by the man who raised me."

At my words, her expression sinks, and she moves her hand to her mouth as if she had just recalled something tragic.

"That’s only natural, isn't it, Jean-Claude?" the man calmly says, remaining seated. "We are glad to hear that, JC. Thanks to that man, you have become a very fine man, yourself."

"T-that's right, we have no right," the woman adds, nodding her head fervently as if to match the man's upright demeanor, despite fighting back tears. "Listen- there is nothing we can ever say to make up for our decision. But I am so sorry. We will forever be regretful for what we put you through. It must have been so hard."

"Did you accomplish your dreams?" I ask coldly, eyeing them both without blinking. They receive my question with shocked pause, and look at each other before turning to me.

"We lived the dream we sought, and found a way to fulfill the duty we held dear," she says, massaging her teetering voice to keep from bursting into tears. However, they come regardless. "But we already had our reason for living… and we chose to lose you… we chose wrong." Her expression crumples more with each muffled sob, tears streaming down her face. "It doesn't matter what excuse we gave ourselves."

"Excuse?" I ask, my expression as still and calm as ever.

"What she’s saying is…" the man continues calmly in her place, "the moment we were warned about the Colonel, we decided it would be best not to force you into a life on the run. We thought that whatever happened to you without us would have been better. We could not have expected what did happen. Regardless, our decision was selfish at its core. As was the life we had been living leading up to that day. There is no excuse for that, and what you had to experience."

"I can appreciate the sentiment," I utter with a forced smile. "However, I’ve wanted to tell you that I understand your decision. I really cannot blame you."

"You mean that?" the woman cries, her expression regaining its desperation. "Does that mean you can forgive us? And let us back in your life?"

"Sure," I reply, as calm as ever, bringing an elated look to her face. "But please, do not misunderstand," I continue, my lips pursing at the sight of her joy. "I haven’t seen you as family in a very long time, and I don’t currently intend to change that."

Her expression sinks, and she trudges back into her seat, still hanging onto my words. "I understand your decision, because I feel a similar guilt. I chose to forsake the two most important people in my life. Like you said, I can offer logical reasons as to why I had to do what I did, but in the end, those are just excuses, and I made the choice that best served my interests… and my sense of duty."

"Much like us, indeed," the man replies with a weak smile.

"Sure, you could say that," I answer. " I simply attribute it to human nature. We intrinsically seek something to live for, a dream worth striving for, a duty worth fulfilling. Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up with a different sense of duty, like the desire to start a family. So, I’d take measures to grow stronger and become a man worthy of having a family to protect."

"Well said," he responds with a smile as he stands to his feet, takes several steps and places a hand on the reeling woman's shoulder. "You’re much wiser than your parents, JC."

"I appreciate the compliment," I say with a chuckle, my expression softening just slightly. "On that note, I wanted to inform you both that I will be serving as the new Director."

"You will?" the man exclaims, his jaw falling open as the woman's glossy eyes go wide.

"Yes," I answer with a nod. "And as my first action, I am allowing you both to leave the lab freely."

"What?" the woman stammers, seemingly on the verge of collapse.

"You’ve been here under the Director's supervision for quite a long time, right?" I continue, unaffected by her trembling figure. "He and the organization have no further reason to keep you confined here. You will also no longer be using Laplace. However, I do want you to continue working here. I think you'll find our next few projects quite fulfilling. What do you think?"

"Of course," the woman cries, gripping her husband's arm tightly as she combats her sobs.

"Working for you will be our reason for living, Director," the man follows, wiping a lone tear from his cheek.

"Great," I respond, smiling weakly as I make for the door. "Arrangements will be made for your citizenship and new residence."

"Thank you," the woman sobs, her voice nearly incomprehensible.

"One more thing," I add, just as I turn the door handle. "I said it was not my intention, but I will not deny the possibility of becoming a family once more, some day. It’s just not something I can say I want right now. But I promised someone I would pursue my own happiness, and live a proper life. So, maybe one day…"

A final glance finds them silently shedding tears, holding each other tightly and nodding as I shut the door behind me. Again, Matthias meets me with a polite smile in the otherwise unoccupied hallway. "Well, Director, would you like to head home for the day?"

"I would, thank you," I answer with a nod. "I can show myself out. However, I do have a favor to ask of you, for when I return."

"What is it?" he asks with a mixture of curiosity and formality.

"I want you to prepare the PC Booster to be capable of transmitting one's most recent memories into multiple subjects, so that they may immediately see the same things as the one experiencing them. That’s within your capability, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," he answers with an excited grin and upbeat tone. "I will have that prepared for you, sir."

"Thank you," I respond with a short nod. "Well, I’ll take my leave now. So, until then."

We both smile amicably before parting, and I pass through the hallway alone. I take the empty elevator down, and enter the lobby full of smiling faces I haven't seen in so long. Many of them greet me in passing, but none attempt to stop me or hold a conversation. Thanks to this, I walk across the white tiles and pass through the revolving door, which goes dark before revealing the bright outside world.

I take a step outside, beyond the front awning, and gaze upon the sky. The sun shines through patches of rain clouds, illuminating the nearly barren trees lining the street. The scent of rain pervades the cool autumn air, drawing me in to take a breath. I take a step onto the road, fallen leaves crunching under my shoe.

"What brings you here all alone, young man?" a gruff voice calls from just down the road. I look up to see a tall man with a black beret and a smiling face clouded by cigarette smoke. "Not running away, are you?" he follows, removing the cigarette from his mouth and grinning wide, revealing his aged facial features.

"For once, I’m not," I answer, returning his smile. "It's good to see you, Killian. You've been a great help to me, haven't you?"

"Yes, I'd say you owe me a drink," he says with a chortle. "Come, I'll show you my favorite pub here, and I'll tell you how the world has been these last six months."

With a nod, I follow him down the road, and take in the picturesque autumn scenery of Shibuya. We pass through a residential sprawl, where several children pass us with carefree smiles. I allow myself to smile back naturally as we proceed into the heart of the city.

The countless faces and voices inhabiting Shibuya Crossing threatens to freeze me solid for a moment, but I instead take a deep breath, and recognize that not a single person is eyeing me with suspicion. They all seek their own destination, uninterested in those around them. Still, many of them smile as they walk by, and without hesitation, I smile back.

We sit down at the pub of Killian's choosing, where he orders us straight whisky, and proceeds to fill me in on some of the things I’d been wondering about. The bandit group, Ireland's Finest, left the country several months back. The environmentalist group disbanded around the same time due to a false prophecy made by the professor regarding the end of the world.

The Shibutani Group, however, has only grown in strength and influence. They've come to control nearly all the banks in Japan, and have become a major player in the economies of several national powers, sparking predictions of an inevitable conflict. I admit to him that while their clear thirst for power concerns me, their partnership is still indispensable to Worldbeaters, as is my partnership with Mirei's father, the group's head.

Next, he tells me that Kaspar Reid often drinks with him at this pub, at which I laugh heartily as I finish my drink. Finally, he asks me if I had the chance to meet my parents. "I did, thanks to you," I tell him with a crooked smile. He doesn't pry further, and instead orders us another round.

We continue drinking, eating, and laughing into the night, catching up as old friends would, until he walks me to my small apartment and guides me, half-awake, to the couch where I fall asleep.

Weeks later, I return to the room where the girls once were. I sit in a theater-style chair in the middle of the spot where their beds once were, with two seats on either side of me, occupied by their fathers. Killian stands behind us with calm interest, while Mathais stands behind a podium with various controls.

"Check your connections one last time, please," he says, prompting us to fasten the heavy glasses, which branch into multiple cords connecting our temples with the loudly puffing processing machine.

The three of us give a thumbs up, and the lights go off. Before long, sleep comes over me. When I come to, I find myself flying through the sky, over a vast ocean. My wings beat the air as fast as they can as I try to keep up with a small luxury cruise ship.

Across the crushing wind in my way, on the ship's upper deck, I see them at last. Mirei, garbed in a frilly sky-blue dress that perfectly suits her blonde curls, sits at an exquisite grandfather piano, playing with a content smile. Mary, whose shoulder-length black hair flows in unison with her white blouse and black pleated skirt, hangs over the deck's railing with an empty wine glass and a carefree grin.

Her grin turns into a playful smirk as she turns back to shout at someone. A boy on the other side of the deck trudges toward them, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and several meat-kabobs in the other, panting as if he’d just climbed seven flights of stairs. His long hair is tied back, and his thin face bares more color than before.

The boy shouts something back, finally giving up and rolling the bottle toward the railing before slumping to his hands and knees. Mirei, still playing, joins Mary in hearty laughter as the slender beauty lunges for the bottle while waving playfully at him.

Finally, the brutal wind overtakes me, tearing my small body apart and pushing me away from the serene sight. However, as I begin to wake, I do not despair; because I know that, so long as I still dream, I can find them there, in a world where they may continue laughing, loving, and living with all their hearts.