Nothing from the Dreamlands would bother with a bathroom either, which ant soone else had interfered while I was unconscious.
Soone who either had no idea what I was capable of, or knew exactly what I was and still thought tying up in a bathtub was necessary and strangely appropriate.
That’s what I would’ve thought and acted rashly upon, if not for my precious mind chiming in at the last mont, reminding of my unusual, potentially harmful, and worryingly useful habit of overthinking.
With the kind of phobia I carried, this was practically inevitable and disturbingly familiar.
Still, overthinking wasn’t inherently bad, it was simply inefficient, a waste of ti and fragile clarity.
Even now, my mind had already pieced together a theory, stitched in details to fill the gaps, and painted a scenario so vivid it bordered on horrifying and grotesque.
Truly terrifying, what the human mind could manufacture when left unchecked and dangerously imaginative.
One could probably destroy the world if they learned to harness this ability perfectly, though, of course, only within their own head.
And honestly? That was about as far as most would ever get with it, not gonna lie.
Though I still had no clear idea why I’d been tied up here, a vague suspicion hovered at the back of my mind, indistinct to pin down in the mont and strangely persistent.
Shaking it off, I turned the water knob and held my hands beneath the cold stream, watching as diluted crimson spiralled away, red dissolving into clear as it vanished down the drain.
The sting lessened, replaced by a dull throb and faint warmth.
I cupped so water and splashed it onto my face, the chill biting into my skin and dragging further back into reality, then let my fingers slide through my hair, pushing it back as I tilted my head up slightly, eting my own reflection in the mirror.
Damp silver-grey strands clung to my temples, framing a face that wasn’t mine, or rather, one that felt foreign yet unsettlingly flawless and eerily serene.
High cheekbones, a clean jawline, skin far too unblemished to belong to soone who had just been brutalised by existence itself.
My light blue eyes stared back at from the mirror, pale and sharp, holding a quiet intensity that made the reflection look almost unreal, almost sculpted by careful design.
I tilted my head slightly, watching how the unfamiliar features caught the light, how effortlessly handso this body was, and an odd unease settled in my chest as I tried to reconcile this immaculate form with the chaos I knew I was.
I lingered there for a mont longer, grounding myself in that reflection even if nothing about it truly felt like it belonged to , before turning and exiting the bathroom in one swift motion.
A clear objective had already ford in my mind the second my feet touched the floor.
Rael’s precious girlfriend.
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, she had beco a problem of mine.
I needed to find her, because the situation was painfully simple.
She was the one who had lowered into the bathtub, and I had to confirm whether she was also the one who had bound with that rope.
If she truly was responsible, I wasn’t about to let such an intrusion into my ’vulnerability’ go unquestioned and lightly excused.
Anyone who dared to encroach upon a mont of my ’fragility’ had already stepped far too close for comfort, even if done unknowingly, and must be hard proportionally and decisively.
Putting that aside, the mont I stepped out of the bathroom, the illusion I had made up for myself shattered completely and unceremoniously.
The corridor stretched ahead in quiet simplicity, its cream-coloured walls clean yet slightly dulled, as if ti had gently worn away their forr brightness and subtle charm.
The wooden floor beneath my feet let out the faintest creak, not from neglect but from age, bearing the subtle marks of daily life and ordinary footsteps.
A soft ceiling light illuminated the space evenly, functional and unpretentious, revealing a ho that was by no ans poor or unpleasant, just simple, familiar, and painfully average.
And that was what unsettled deeply.
There was nothing wrong with this place, yet it paled miserably in comparison to the bathroom behind with its polished elegance, and unmistakable touch of luxury.
It felt misplaced, as if grandeur had briefly intruded upon a life that had always known modesty.
Heck, it was comparable to the apartnt I used to live in back in my previous life, cramped, forgettable, and quietly ordinary.
Stealing glances at the odd paintings that hung along the corridor’s walls, I made my way forward, guided by the faint voice I had heard even from within the bathroom, though at the ti I had not bothered to pay it much attention.
The fras were slightly crooked, their subjects peculiar and vaguely unsettling, as if they did not truly belong here, yet had remained out of stubborn taste or aesthetic choice.
Through that narrow gap, a wash of bright light spilled outward, seeping into the corridor and softly illuminating the worn walls and floor beneath my feet in warm contrast.
’Who is it now...?’
I thought to myself, a trace of dry amusent settling in as the overlapping voices drifted through the half-open door, reminding that this place was not as abandoned as I had mistakenly assud otherwise.
I could make out a silhouette leaned against the door in a casual manner, and as I drew closer, continuing to observe in silence, that barely-visible outline slowly ca into form just in ti for her to slam the door hard against the face of what appeared to be so wretched old man.
The kind that reeked of authority from an organisation I had no desire to learn about or acknowledge.
His muffled protest was cut short as she scoffed, voice sharp and irritated.
"These shit people and their constant threats. Always the sa damn nonsense, barking about dues and late paynts like we owe our soul to their filthy little ledger and pathetic system."
It was then, that she turned around, my eyes eting hers for the very first ti again, with a strange twist of recognition.
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