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Blackness engulfed Ryou, surrounding him completely.
He was in a maze of some kind, with open doors and hallways and stairways surrounding him on every side. Most of them didn't seem to lead anywhere, as near as he could tell.
Not that he could see much. He had a lantern in his hand, and that seemed to be the only source of light in this entire maze, just illuminating the floor in front of him. In his other hand, he was holding a ball of string. The ball almost seemed to glitter in the dim light.
The floor beneath his feet was made of stone, he could tell that much. The walls were, too, and painted with hieroglyphs. Like an ancient tomb.
Moving mechanically, as thought not in full control of his own body, Ryou dropped the ball of string. It hit the floor with a small bounce, then began to roll. The ball moved with a mind of its own, rolling down a specific corridor, leaving a trail of string behind it. Ryou began to follow it, his feet moving of their own accord. As though his body knew something that his brain didn't.
He followed the string down one hallway, then down a flight of stairs, through several doors, and then down another hallway. He got the impression of going deeper and deeper into the earth, as though he could only find what he was looking for by going lower and lower.
But what was he looking for?
The hieroglyphs painted on the walls began to change. They'd seemed so simple and benign when he'd first seen them, but now they began to change, showcasing violent scenes made of bright red paint. Everywhere Ryou looked, there were images of fire, people bleeding, and the world being swallowed by darkness. It left him with an eerie feeling, and a chill that traveled all the way to his core.
The ball of string led him deeper and deeper into the maze-like abyss. After a few more levels, the hieroglyphs petered out, leaving blank walls and empty expanses in their wake.
Somehow, the blank walls made Ryou shiver even more than the paintings had.
Finally, the ball of string reached its destination.
A closed door appeared out of the darkness, the first one Ryou had seen. The door was made of metal of some kind, and had a large eye painted across it in gold. Enormous chains spread across the door, keeping it closed, tied together by a large padlock. There were dents in the door, as though there were something dangerous inside that had tried to get out before.
The ball of string ran right into the door, thumping against it quietly. It sat there, not moving. Waiting for the door to open.
Like a puppet on a controller, Ryou reached into a pocket on his shirt. Or at least, he thought that's what it was. The sensation was more like reaching into his own chest, as though searching for his own heart. The pinprick scars on his chest pulsed with anticipation as he pulled out a key.
The key was white, and somehow Ryou knew it was made from bone. A skeleton key in a literal sense, made to open any door in this maze. The surface of the key felt smooth, but something must have pricked Ryou's skin, because his fingers began to bleed from where he was holding the key.
He put the key into the padlock, not surprised when it was a perfect fit. The key turned smoothly, then shattered inside the keyhole, sending fragments of bone everywhere. But it had done its job, as the padlock now lay open, hanging limp from the heavy chains it held.
Ryou removed the padlock and the chains, casting them aside. He groped blindly for a door handle for a moment, then, finding it and grabbing a tight hold of it, pulled the intimidating door open.
There was nothing behind it. Only an empty room with shadows that flickered and danced on the wall, affected by the light of Ryou's lantern.
Thick shackles hung from one of the walls of the room, ancient and covered in rust, but still impossibly strong and in one piece. They were closed. Their prisoner hadn't escaped.
The prisoner that should be in this room wasn't here, Ryou realized. He'd come to release him, but he was already gone.
The thought of it made Ryou feel heavy, and he collapsed to his knees on the floor. Blood dripped steadily from his hand and from his chest, forming thick, black puddles beneath him. Silver tears began to pour from his eyes, stinging and burning on their way out, and they formed a river of molten metal around him.
He watched himself pour out of his contents. He'd never felt emptier.
“Landlord?”
A voice cut through the darkness, and Ryou forced himself to open his eyes.
He was back in his apartment. He was in his bed, with his blankets tangled around his legs, apparently from thrashing in his sleep.
The Spirit of the Ring was hovering over him, staring down at him with an unreadable expression. Ryou couldn't tell if he was concerned or simply inconvenienced.
“You were crying in your sleep,” the Spirit said. He reached down with one of his spectral hands. Ryou felt the cool fingers against his cheek, and then saw them draw away wet.
He raised his own hand to his face, feeling the wetness.
“I didn't know I still did that,” he whispered. He'd cried in his sleep before, especially after the deaths of his mother and sister, but it had been years since the last time he did. He honestly thought he'd grown out of that trait by this point in his life.
The Spirit continued to gaze down at him. His face remained enigmatic.
Ryou sighed and pulled himself up into a sitting position. He scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe the tears away, and was surprised when new ones kept leaking out.
“I think... I think I was dreaming...” He paused for a second, trying to figure out what he was saying. “I think I was in the Ring?”
The Spirit moved closer, frowning. “Explain?”
“Well, I was in a maze, and I was looking for something. And when I found it, it was a locked room, but when I opened it, it was empty.”
He didn't know why the sight of an empty room made him feel so sad and equally empty. It felt like something important was missing. Or maybe someone important?
Neither of the inhabitants in the room said anything for a minute. Then, the Spirit leaned down, straddling the bed.
“You were in the Ring,” the Spirit confirmed. He was fiddling with Ryou's blankets, trying to disentangle them from around the boy's legs. He looked up after a minute, meeting Ryou's gaze. “... You found my soul room.”
If there had been space for Ryou to pull back from shock, he would have. “Your soul room?”
The Spirit nodded. There was something akin to sadness in his eyes.
“I could feel you in there, you know,” the Spirit said. “In my soul... in me.”
Ryou stared at him in surprise and confusion. Hesitantly, he reached up a hand, reaching for the Spirit.
He wanted to touch him. Needed to feel a human connection.
The Spirit raised his own hand, catching Ryou's in his grip. Their fingers slid together easily, like puzzle pieces locking together. Like they were each right where they belonged.
“Why was your soul room empty?” Ryou asked. He didn't really expect an answer, but wanted to voice the question anyway.
To his surprise, the Spirit gave him a look that was... softer than his face usually was. Almost affectionate.
“My soul room in the Ring is a prison,” the Spirit said. His voice was oddly gentle, despite the gravity of what he was saying. “It's built to contain me.”
Ryou raised his eyebrows. “'A prison?' But then... why weren't you in it?”
The Spirit was silent for a moment, and Ryou once again began to assume that he wasn't going to answer. But then, very quietly, he whispered, “Because, little landlord... You released me.”
He released Ryou's hand then. But, instead of moving away, the Spirit moved closer, pressing Ryou back onto the bed.
“I'm not trapped anymore, thanks to you,” the Spirit whispered into his ear. Ryou could feel the chilled air against his ear, even though he knew the Spirit didn't produce any breath. It sent a shiver up his spine.
The Spirit gave him a smile. “You set me free.”
Ryou had never seen the Spirit smile before. It caught him off guard, but it also made a warm feeling grow inside him. It was a good feeling.
The Spirit, somehow, managed to disentangle the blankets that Ryou was wrapped up in. Ryou didn't see how he did it. It was like magic or something.
He spread the blanket over Ryou, essentially tucking him into bed. It reminded Ryou of his childhood, when his mother would tuck him in. It made him feel safe and cared for, a feeling that very few people could elicit in him. He'd basically only felt this way when his mother was alive, but, every once in awhile, the Spirit could bring that feeling out of him. Not often, of course, but it happened.
He gave the Spirit a questioning look.
“You set me free, little landlord,” the Spirit said, answering the unspoken question. “That was the kindest thing anyone could have done for me. You deserve a little kindness in return.”
Ryou couldn't help but smile at that. “The big bad demon is going soft on me.”
The Spirit made a scoffing sound. “I'm not going soft. You've just toughened up to my level.”
Ryou laughed. Despite himself, he could feel himself relaxing. He began to drift off, sleep taking him once more.
“Sleep well, little landlord.” The Spirit gave Ryou another smile, then began to fade away for some reason, vanishing into a flurry of stars and smoke.
Ryou felt his eyes close, and he drifted back to sleep.
It was the alarm clock that woke him next. Fumbling with one hand, Ryou reached across the nightstand, searching blindly for the annoying thing. After shutting it off, he pulled himself into a sitting position.
His blankets were tangled tightly around his legs, and he could feel tracks of moisture on his cheeks. Curiously, he reached a hand up, touching his face.
He'd been crying in his sleep.
He supposed it made sense.
He'd dreamed about the Spirit again, after all. Dreamed that the Spirit had woken him from a nightmare, and taken care of him. It was wishful thinking, really – born from his everyday loneliness.
The Spirit had been gone for years, now. The Items had long since been lain to rest.
Sighing, Ryou moved to extricate himself from his tangle of bedding. He was almost thirty years old. Shouldn't he have moved on by now? He didn't even have dreams about his parents or sister anymore, for god's sake!
“Shouldn't I be over this?” he muttered to himself, not expecting an answer. “Over him?”
But, part of him knew he never would be. The Spirit of the Ring had been a part of him for too long, and had taken up too much of his life. The Spirit had forced his entire life to revolve around him for too long, and now Ryou was still re-learning how to function by himself.
He felt like he'd been cleaved in two.
He felt like he'd been tipped over and emptied, like a cup of water.
But, mostly? He felt alone and miserable.