Chapter Text
As far as addictions go, being addicted to sleep can’t be that bad. San always told himself he could have worse habits, but, right now, as he tears the sleeping pill box too far down the middle and the capsules shoot across his bedroom, San wonders if he is wrong.
He is also aware that it now looks like he has a drug problem, and someone might be able to argue that he does indeed have a drug problem. He pops two of the pills into his mouth and swallows them. Okay, yes, he does need to take double the regular dosage than he used to in order to get their affect, and maybe he needs to take actual prescription strength instead of over-the-counter drugs. He also may have made up a story about awful insomnia in order to acquire them, but it doesn’t mean he has a *drug* problem, even if it totally does look like it. Hell, he doesn’t even have a *sleeping* problem.
If anything, San has a dreaming problem.
He glances at the pills. He will pick them up tomorrow, he tells himself as he collapses onto his bed.
Today was exhausting and San can’t be happier to be in the warmth of his own bed. Exhausting, frustrating, draining. And defeating. After today, San doesn’t know how he is going to go about his normal days. He also doesn’t know how to approach his father again.
He pushes those thoughts out of his mind; he is here to sleep and he is here to dream. Thoughts are exactly what he is trying to avoid right now.
The first attempt to sleep is cut off by his phone buzzing. His eyes shoot open, a groan escaping from his lips. He meant to turn that on silent.
*Don’t look at it,* he tells himself. But, of course, he is thinking that as his hand slaps on top of the phone in a reflex to check the notification.
*Just turn it off,* he reasons with himself. Okay, he failed to not grab his phone, but that’s because he is just going to turn it off.
Despite his best efforts, his notifications make it impossible not to look. There are many messages, some from close friends, some from friends not as close. Most are from his closest friend Yunho.
San what’s going on?
Reply to me.
Two missed calls from Yunho.
Call me dammit.
SAN DONT MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!
San sighs and holds down the lock button. He wants to reply to Yunho, but he doesn’t want to answer questions. Especially right now. As he clicks the screen to power his phone off, he notices his eyelashes are damp.
He tosses the phone aside and reaches for one of his plushes on his bed. His dog pillow. That will do. He hugs him close to his chest and slowly wraps himself around it in an almost fetal position. A tear finally races down his cheek; he has never felt more like a child.
With Shiber in his arms, he waits for sleep to engulf him. For a dream to save him from his reality.
He is ready to be someone else.
~x~
It isn’t sleep he craves, but a dream. Not his dream, though, because it is impossible for him to dream. A dreamwalker cannot dream. Ever since he was young he has spent every single night in someone else’s dream. They are usually the dreams of a stranger, and, with so many people in the world, he rarely walks in the dream of the same person.
Before he knows it, San is standing in a meadow alone. It appears to be autumn; the trees surrounding him a colorful palette of golds, purples, and oranges. The sun is still glowing behind a couple of fluffy clouds, shining as brightly as it can while starting its descent down in the sky. Wind picks up around him, chilling him slightly, and he closes his eyes. Taking a deep breath through his nose and he is able to smell the crisp scent of freshly fallen leaves, as well as a faint hint of cinnamon and apple.
He doesn’t question it. Anything is possible in the dream world.
Forest litter crunches beneath his black boots as he walks through the meadow. He is dressed perfectly for autumn: long-sleeved black shirt, dark denim pants, and casual black boots. Still slightly chilly, but he is uncomfortably cold.
San wanders through the clearing with no inkling of where he is going. Whoever’s dream he is in, he must be on the outskirts of their dream. Just a small careless detail. Background details of a painting that could be missed if you don’t look close enough. It happens sometimes, and this is the only time where San truly feels like he actually might be dreaming his own dream.
But he knows better.
The leaves rustle behind him and a black shadow whips past his leg, smacking him and startling him. His steps stagger as the creature moves in front of him and turns around to face him. It’s a black cat. The green eyes glow in the dying sun, shimmering a bright emerald as they seem to bore into his soul. It continues to stare, it’s tail swishing back in forth in slow S -shaped patterns.
San stares back, unsure what to do. Is it possible he is in a cat’s dream . . .? Although it has ever happened before, it doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.
It meows loudly, and then onceagain, slightly louder. It’s eyes lock with San’s. His heart pounds. He remembers he shouldn’t look a cat in the eye, that it is like a challenge to them, but he can’t turn away.
He waits for the cat to attack him, but it doesn’t. It bounds off a couple of steps then turns back around. It’s tail is still swishing, and this time it actually yowls at San, making him jump.
He decides to trust it and the dream. When he starts moving again, the cat finally seems content. It scampers off in front of him, turning around once and awhile to make sure San is still following him.
They wander far enough so that the meadow starts to fade into the background and the sun quickens it’s descent in the sky. When it does set, it isn’t clear, but it is almost like it vanished from the sky in order to be replaced by a shimmering moon and twinkling constellations above him. San glances up to admire the speckled sky, but the cat suddenly hisses, making him jump again. When he turns his attention back to it, is evaporates into nothing and a tall dark mansion is waiting before him.
The mansion almost seems to be glowing in the dark, either from the glow of the moon or an ethereal light glowing from inside the windows. All the blinds are closed, though, and he can’t see anything inside.
It seems clear that this is his true destination in the dream. Or at least, it must be what he is meant to find. He walks up the stone steps. He reaches to hold onto the obsidian metal railing, but he rethinks it when he sees as a large black spider forming a web between the bars. There’s a large dragon shaped knocker on the door. It is something he has only seen in movies, and he wonders if he should knock, but then he remembers this is someone’s dream: who would answer? He tries the handle and the door opens with a quiet screech.
Here goes nothing , he thinks to himself as he steps inside.
The second he steps out into the foyer, the door slams shut behind him. San jumps, and whips around to look at it to make sure it really did actually close without any assistance. Sure enough, the door closed itself behind him, yet another occurrence he has only seen happen in movies.
He sucks in a breath and reaches to try the handle, and that’s when he notices his wardrobe is different. He isn’t aware when it changed, but he assumes it must have been when he entered the mansion. His all black outfit from before is swapped with an all white outfit. Adorned in tight white pants and a tight fitting corset vest with accents of silver, San can confidently say this is not an outfit he would have picked for himself. Arms are bare and fully on display, and it doesn’t seem like he is wearing anything else under the vest. Feeling around his neck, there is a satin choker wrapped around, and he just assumes it is white or silver.
He is still taking in his new attire when he hears a voice behind him: “It only opens one way.”
And San realizes he isn’t alone.
Standing before him are five other boys about his age. All are standing there looking about as lost and confused as San is; two or three of them are talking quietly together, but that is all they are doing. Everyone seems to be dressed in a modern style of fashion with a Victorian influence, although San clearly seems to be the one with the least amount of clothes on.
Thankfully, they don’t need to wait around long for whatever it is they are supposed to be waiting for.
“Welcome!”
All six of them jump when they realize there is still another presence amongst them. Instead of another boy coming through the front door, one descends the grand staircase in front of them. Decked out in a long red velvet coat and a short black top hat, it is another boy around the same age as them. Unlike the other’s, he isn’t anxious at all. Instead, he is wearing a smile that almost brightens the eerie ambiance. Almost , because it is clearly out of place in a mansion they are trapped in together.
He finally stops about three stairs up from the landing, as if he wanted to stay there and be taller than them all. Which couldn’t be that easy because the newcomer just might be the shortest of them all.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome. I am The Game Master.” When he introduces himself he gives an extravagant bow. The five boys just watch him silently. San imagines they are all trying to make sense of the situation just like he is. During a dream, he has never been in a room with so many conscious people before.
It is as if the newcomer wishes for applause for his introduction. San just swallows, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The Game Master stands back up straight and fixes his coat. He buttons it in front of him as he tries again. “I hope everyone is prepared because we are about to play a game. And if you lose. . .well, the consequences are very, very real.” His already impossibly wide smile seems to widen a bit more. “You see, this may be a dream, but it is only to get us all together. It is a meeting place, really, and anything that happens to you here will happen to you in the real world.”
Even if it was already silent, something seems to hit within the group to stun them so much that each and every single one of them may have stopped breathing.
This has to be a joke , San catches himself thinking. He has been in many dreams before, but a dream carrying over to the real world? It couldn’t be possible.
“This very house we are standing in has some pretty interesting secrets.” As if to reference the house, the Game Master stomps his foot twice on the stair. “Your mission is to explore this mansion. You will uncover secrets and perhaps discover even more mysteries in this house than I originally thought possible. But be careful, because you never know what is around the corner or what you will face.
“The rules are simple,” he continues in a louder voice. “Like a game, you will take turns. However, because this house may be rather daunting, you may want to stick together. I will allow you guys to take turns together if you so choose, but if you decide to take a turn together, the amount of spaces each of you are allowed to move may not be the same. Ah, yes, I forgot to mention, I will be telling you how many spaces you can more.” He spreads his arms out to gesture the group. “Each of you has predetermined stats that I have calculated myself and I have decided how much or as little as you can move each time. You’re welcome.”
That doesn’t sound promising , San ponders for a brief second.
“The ‘spaces’ you can move are determined by doorways. For example, if you can move four spaces, you can enter four doors. You don’t have to use all your moves, but you won’t be able to move more than those four ‘spaces.’
“These rooms are very tricky, and each of them holds a personality of their own. Upon entering a room you may happen to trigger something. What that will be, the house will decide, not even me.” He laughs a little, sounding a little too amused by himself. He laughs a bit too hard and he sounds sort of like a witch. After the brief episode, he clears his throat, regains his composure, and continues, “The rooms may decide to gift you with items as well. Hold onto them. They can be important. And they may end up saving your life here.”
The Game Master takes one step back up the stairs. “I may not always be here, but know I am always watching. This is my game, after all, and you are my pawns.” He spreads his arms out wide with that same plastered on smile, “Now, I suggest you take some time amongst yourselves and decide who shall go first in this game of life.”
Seconds after, he vanishes just like the black cat before, but instead of evaporating into thin air, he disintegrates into thick, black smoke.
San stands there, still trying to process everything he just heard, as he assumes everyone else is trying to do. At least, everyone except the tallest in the group. He bolts to the entrance door and tugs repeatedly on the door handle. It makes a loud banging but the locks hold. Nevertheless, he continues to try. He is dressed in a long blue coat that is similar to the one the Game Master is wearing, but the taller boy’s coat is a bit longer and reaches all the way down to his ankles. As if he wasn’t tall enough already, he is dressed in heeled boots.
“Mingi! We’re trapped!” The shortest calls after him and then takes off running in his direction. His outfit stands out a bit more because it is a long, frilly white shirt with a brown leather vest over the top; he looks like a pirate and a bit out of place in a mansion instead of on a ship. He wraps his hands around the arm of the taller boy in an attempt to stop him. Two of the others move to assist him.
“Let me out of this hell house!” The tall one named Mingi yells, his voice cracking from desperation. San continues to watch, debating if he should go to help the others stop him.
“That’s not him.”
On the left of San, one remaining boy is standing still, eyes glued to the staircase the Game Master vanished from.
“Huh?” San asks, although he isn’t entirely sure if he was trying to talk to him or not.
“Wooyoung,” the boy says and then turns to face San; San feels like he is struck by a bolt of lightning. Wow. He’s gorgeous. He didn’t notice it before when he first entered, but the boy is more stunning than any other model he has ever seen before. If anything, he resembles a god or a perfect sculpted statue. His outfit he is forced to wear is similar to San’s: there is a black lace chocker around his defined throat and a black corset secured around his thin waist with red ribbons. With a black collared shirt, black skinny pants and long, sleek laced-up boots completely his look, the boy looks more like a vampire than a god. His long blond hair even makes him seem even more pale for some reason.
San swallows thickly and hopes it isn’t too obvious that he was just staring. “Uh, ‘Wooyoung?’”
“Wooyoung,” he repeats and looks back at the stairs. “He isn’t a ‘Game Master’ or whatever. He’s my oldest friend. And that isn’t him.”
“You know him?” San repeats and is aware how dumb he sounds repeating the statement the beautiful boy just said. But, somehow, if that’s true, that is more unsettling than the house itself. “And you’re sure he couldn’t do this?”
The boy shakes his head. “No. He wouldn’t. I don’t know how someone could pull it off.” The last part sounds like it is more a thought to himself than a statement for San. He finally turns back to San again, and San is struck breathless again when those sweet eyes land on him. “I’m Yeosang. You missed when we introduced ourselves to each other.”
“So you don’t know anyone else here?”
Yeosang shakes his head again. “None of us know each other. I assumed we were all complete strangers until Wooyoung appeared. What’s your name?”
“Oh, I’m San.”
Yeosang nods and gestures at the four causing the ruckus by the front doors. “The one who freaked out is Mingi. Hongjoong is the short one. The skinny one is Yeonjun, and the boba ball looking one is Beomgyu. I don’t know how long we have been here, but nothing started until you arrived.”
The last part is a bit concerning and, if anything, a bit odd. A dream would never wait for him to get started.
Then it occurs to him maybe he isn’t the only one here with special powers.
“Are you guys dreamwalkers too?”
Yeosang tilts his head slightly. “‘Dreamwalkers?’”
“Yeah. Walk through dreams every night and such.” When Yeosang doesn’t respond and still continues to stare with that confused, curious look, San continues on, rambling and stammering a little bit. “I’m a dreamwalker, yeah, like I walk through dreams every night.” He realizes as he says it out loud how crazy it must sound, and how much crazier it would sound if he admitted that he is actually addicted to doing it.
Thankfully, Yeosang doesn’t question it. “No, we’re not. Or, I’m not. I don’t know about the others.”
With the mention of others, they appear. The one named Beomgyu in a tight, frilled green shirt and the other in a sleek tuxedo-like outfit who must be Yeonjun are latched onto Mingi and pull the reluctant boy from the door. Hongjoong walks behind him and looks between Yeosang and San. Before he can say something, San is the first to speak.
“I’m San,” he says, blurting out his introduction.
“Has anyone trapped you in a dream before?” Yeosang’s question cuts Hongjoong off who was about to respond to San. It almost startles San, but San turns his attention back to face the gorgeous boy.
“No. I could always leave. Or wake, I mean.”
“What do you mean ‘trap you in a dream before?’ Is this some kind of twisted, ludicrous occurrence I wasn’t aware about?” Yeonjun cuts in.
“I, uh,” San starts, feeling rather nervous with all the attention now on him, “no, uh, this isn’t normal. But I do visit dreams and such every night. I’m a dreamwalker.”
Yeah, he really does sound crazy.
“Cool!” Beomgyu interjects with a smile. “Then you can get us out?”
Could he? Whenever San was in a particular disturbing situation he could manage to wake himself up willingly. He researched ways before and he knew the common ones such as falling asleep or even screaming.
But Mingi just did that. And they are still here.
“I-I know some tricks to wake up but. . .” San trails off. He doesn’t want to admit he can’t help them escape. “Mingi just used one of the techniques and it didn’t work. . .”
“Our best bet may be to play the game and see if it satisfies the Game Master so he releases us,” Hongjoong reasons.
“Do you think we could actually die?” Beomgyu asks, his voice so quiet that he is almost overshadowed by Mingi’s protest.
“I’m not playing this sicko’s game!” Mingi says and attempts to lunge for the entrance again, but Beomgyu and Yeonjun’s grip on his arms is too strong for him to break free.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Hongjoong says. “And it might be our best chance to escape.” Hongjoong gazes at the group as a silence comes over them.
But would we be giving into a trap? San wonders.
Quiet hangs heavy in the air as if everyone is considering their next move or maybe trying to think of another way they could escape. Even Mingi remains silent and stops fighting.
“I’ll go first.”
Yeonjun is the first to speak and he slowly releases his hold on Mingi as if now he trusts it is finally safe to let go of him.
Almost as soon as Yeonjun volunteers, the Game Master’s voice sounds through the whole house: “Perfect! Finally! Sir Yeonjun, congratulations on going first. I wish that could win you something, but it doesn’t. Well, now you are my favorite and maybe that is a start.”
A shiver courses through San, but he tries his best to stand still. He isn’t sure what the Game Master’s plan is, but he is determined to not show any fear to him. Who knows what he is looking for, and, if it is fear, San isn’t going to give him that.
“Yeonjun, you can move through four rooms. A friendly reminder that you don’t have to move the full amount of moves, but your goal right now to explore the house so I suggest you use all yours moves. But enough of my commentary. Please, start Yeonjun, and give us a show!”
“Well, here goes nothing,” Yeonjun says almost bitterly. He moves forward and crosses the threshold from the foyer to the first room of the house. The doors are already wide open, but there are still doors so it must count as one. He pauses and looks left then right, and then he turns back to look at the group one last time. He then takes the door on the right. San hears the creak of the door opening and then again as it closes behind him. He didn’t even notice his breath caught in his throat.
Are they really doing this?
“And so it begins!”
The Game Master’s voice rings throughout the house once more and it makes San jump; he notices he isn’t the only one startled.
“I will be kind and provide you updates on other players, but I will only provide updates that I think are important. But where did Yeonjun go? What happened? Is he still alive?” He pauses as if to let that scare them more, but the Game Master doesn’t stay quiet for long. “Don’t worry, he is still alive. No fun if things get intense so quickly. Gotta get all of you broken in, you know? And speaking of breaking in, I think it is about time for the next one of you to go. I will spare the friendly debate and I will pick for myself. San!” San’s spine goes rigid from the sound of his name. “It is your turn. You also can move through four rooms in any direction you choose. Good luck, little dreamwalker.”
Whether or not the Game Master knows San is a dreamwalker or he just happened to overheard their conversation is unclear. Either way, it is unsettling. Whoever planned to get them trapped in here must have planned to trap them specifically and for a reason they don’t know. It couldn't be totally random for them to be chosen to be here anyway, right? But if the Game Master only overheard their conversation, it is just an unsettling reminder that he is a constant looming presence. Not only can he watch and listen to everything, but he is very much in control of their fate.
San swallows thickly. "O-Okay." He really doesn't know what could happen if he refuses to take his turn, but he doesn't wish to find out. He takes one step forward and then glances around. He could follow Yeonjun through the house, but there are many doors just sitting in wait all around him. There are doors to the left and right of the entrance. The Game Master made it clear they are supposed to explore the house, so despite his brain telling him to follow Yeonjun, San decides to listen to his gut and to go through the door on the right.
He takes one step towards it, but stops when Hongjoong speaks up.
"Wait! He mentioned people can take a turn at the same time. Maybe we should stick together?”
“Yeah, we should do that,” Beomgyu agrees from next to Hongjoong.
The booming voice echoes in the mansion: “Oh, look at you guys! So smart! Using a strategy, sticking to safety in numbers! Alright, if that is your plan, the next player is Yeosang and you also have the same number of stops you can make as San. Use them wisely.”
San stands there, watching Yeosang as the Game Master announces his turn. He notices Yeosang stiffen when the Game Master says his name, and San wonders how eerie it must be to have someone who looks like your friend to speak your name in the same voice.
Yeosang steps up boldly and stands beside San. “I’ll go with you.” He doesn’t sound bothered or even scared. San wishes he had the same courage as him.
San moves to the door and turns the doorknob. It squeaks ever so quietly, but it echoes in the room only filled with the sound of breathing. The hinges on the door also complain as it swings open to reveal the next room. It is a dimly lit hallway, glowing with too little sconces near the top of the walls. It is hard to see what lies ahead for them, but Yeosang still crosses the threshold. San follows him, a little bit slower and a bit more hesitant in Yeosang’s shadow.
But once the both of them cross, the door slams shut behind them again. Both of the boys jump, and San can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He should have expected it, and he feels foolish for not expecting it.
Not only are the lights not bright enough to fully light the hallway, but they are covered in a thick layer of dust that swallows up most of the light. Actually, everything in the room is covered in a layer of dust. It is a couple centimeters thick.
The unwelcome thought of dust being mostly dead skin inserts itself into San’s mind.
“Which way do you want to go?”
Yeosang’s quiet, deep voice snaps San out of that dark recess in his brain. It even soothes him a little bit.
“Uh, straight,” San says. He didn’t even notice before that there were three rooms on all four walls of the hallway, but he is looking straight ahead and continuing forward seems like a good strategy.
Together, San and Yeosang cross through the hallway, San only one step behind Yeosang now, closing some of the distance between them. When they reach the next door, Yeosang is the one who turns the engraved handle. Just like the door before, it protests, but it swings open easily.
In front of them is another long hallway. San swallows thickly; this house isn’t just a bunch of hallways like a maze, right?
This hallway isn’t dusty, though, for some reason. When Yeosang crosses the threshold this time, the floor creaks beneath him. The sound is so loud in the silence that San’s heart jumps into his throat and his muscles stiffen on instinct. Nothing else happens, though, and, Yeosang, deciding it is safe, continues onward. With each new step, the floor squeaks beneath his boots. If the house is straining to carry the other man’s weight, San really isn’t sure, and he has to will himself to move before Yeosang leaves him completely behind.
Both boys make their way across the hallway with the floor continuing to whine under them with each new step. San just waits for the floor to give way and for the house to consume them.
Again, there are three doors on each of the surrounding walls.
“Which one?” Yeosang asks again.
His heart is racing so quickly that San almost doesn’t hear Yeosang over it.
“Uh. . .” He doesn’t have an answer this time. He wants to go straight, but what if that is another hallway? There is also the goal of exploring the house to keep in mind, although San would much rather not go through the house on his own. “Let’s go through a different door. And end our turn. And catch up to each other on our next turn?”
So much for having a strategy , San thinks. It isn’t much of one, but the Game Master did say it is important to explore the whole house.
Yeosang doesn’t question or protest. Instead, he gestures the door he will take, and, shortly after, goes through the same door.
And San is on his own.
San sucks in a breath: it is okay, he will see Yeosang again very soon. Nothing is going to happen to him.
He tells himself that as he advances to the door straight ahead again, but not without checking over his shoulder once. There is nothing there except the door to the other hallway that remained open for some reason. He can never be too safe to make sure something wasn’t waiting for Yeosang to leave so it could attack San.
He sucks in another breath: he can do this.
The door opens and he is outside. The moon seems too bright after the dimly lit hallways and San needs to squint. When he can see better, he just isn’t outside: he is in a graveyard. There’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Why would this house need a graveyard? Why would a house have a graveyard in the first place? He knows richer folk could have their own private family graveyard, and, even if it seems a bit odd, it still doesn’t seem out of place at a house like this. There are about fifteen headstones that he can see, and that is actually all he can see because smoke starts to seep in from. . .well, from nowhere. San didn’t see it originate from anywhere and it practically descends downwards from the sky.
Covering his mouth with his sleeve, San wanders if he should turn back. The smoke expands. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t suffocate him. From television, San knows that the smoke should make it hard to breathe, but, for some reason, this smoke doesn’t. He moves his sleeve to test it, and, sure enough, he can breathe. He questions if it is only vapor or fog or something he doesn’t know exists, but then he remembers not to think too much about it.
This is a dream after all.
Although he wishes to turn around, he doesn’t. Something pulls him forward. But when he moves forward, the smoke seems to thicken. With each step it continues to expand. San knows he should turn back and he knows he is ignoring all the signals to do so. He is about to give in and turn back around when he stumbles over a tombstone. With a yelp, he crashes to the ground, and he lands on something fuzzy that yowls in protest when he collapses. It jumps up and hisses at San, but San is still a bit dazed when the ground makes his hands sting about as much as the ground would if it wasn’t a dream.
He pushes himself up a little and there is the angry black cat beside him. Through the smoke he can make out unsettling glowing scarlet eyes and teeth glinting brightly in the moonlight.
It looks similar to the black cat that led him to the mansion, but it isn’t the same cat. The eyes are strikingly different, and there is a quiet jingle whenever he moves; this cat must be wearing a collar.
His hackles are still raised, teeth bared in a hiss, and San wonders if it is going to attack him.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t see you. I can’t see anything,” San says, mumbling the last sentence mostly to himself. “Not like I would hurt a cat on purpose. Even a fake cat in a dream.”
The cat spits at him, but it doesn’t budge. And it calms down, as if it can understand San. But San knows that’s silly, and maybe his talking is enough to calm him.
“You’re not the same one from earlier, are you?”
He knows it isn’t the same cat, but he is talking for the cat’s benefit, not his own. Thankfully, the cat seems to relax a bit more, his mouth closing finally. The red eyes bore into San, the tip of his tail twitching ever so slightly as he continues to watch the boy in front of him.
Pushing himself up onto his knees, San sighs. He keeps his movements slow, making sure not to startle the cat again.
“I am really sorry. Do you live here?”
The cat continues to stare at him, tail tip still flicking as he remains attentive. Part of him feels a bit foolish; it’s not like the cat is going to respond.
But, as soon as he thinks that, the cat meows. Just one short meow, more of like an unthreatening mew. San can’t help but smile. He moves one hand forward slowly, but the cat shows no signs of being frightened anymore. He presses his nose to the hand, and San’s smile widens.
“Will you let me pick you up? I promise not to fall again.”
Promising not to fall when he can’t see is a bold promise, and San knows that, but he really would try his hardest to not fall if he is carrying a cat.
The cat bounces forward and leaps right at San. Thankfully, San is quick and he catches the cat in his hands. Part of him is delighted, but the other part is a bit suspicious.
“You can understand me, can’t you?”
The cat meows once.
And whether it is a coincidence or not, San really doesn’t know.
He scoops the cat up protectively in his arms and finally gets back to his feet. The smoke still hangs heavy in the air, and San really can’t see now. He knows he needs to leave the area, especially before he falls again and hurts himself or his new companion.
Inch by inch, San works his way through the grass and back to the mansion. As he moves back towards the building, the smoke seems to get lighter with each step. He tells himself it is just his imagination, but he also thought the cat understanding him was part of his imagination.
He returns to the house and is just about to re-enter when the Game Master’s voice rings loud throughout the entire graveyard. “Ah-ah! It isn’t your turn! You have to wait now for your next turn. You triggered an event and acquired an item, thus ending your turn.”
How convenient, San thinks, because he certainly didn’t mention that before. But he doesn’t protest; he doesn’t wish to irritate the Game Master when he is controlling his fate. With a sigh, San slumps against the building and closes his eyes. The cat meows once, almost like a question, and San can’t help but laugh a little.
“Guess we gotta wait until our next turn, kitty.”
San sighs again. Unfortunately, the break allows him to think, something he wished a dream would distract him from. doing. In other dreams he has wandered in, he never had much downtime, but, now, it is almost like he is forced to recall the events from earlier that day. Stomach clenching, he can hear his father in his head. Angry—no, furious. Calling him a disappointment, wasting his potential, and providing an ultimatum.
What choice did San have but to listen to his father? To be threatened to completely cut off and shunned by his own family sounded unbareable. All his life, San pushed his luck further and further to see just how far he could push it. And now he pushed it too far. His father made himself clear: if San could stop fooling around with petty, useless dreams and continue to pursue the career he was made for then he could remain as part of their family.
The cat meows again, bringing San’s attention back to the dream and his current situation. Squeezing the cat in his arms, he whispers, “What choice did I have? I had to delete all my social media. It isn’t important anyway, right? People lived without it for years. And who was I kidding, thinking I could be a model, even on the side.”
There is another meow sounding just like a question again. San laughs again. This cat has to be really talkative or he must be losing his mind thinking this feline can understand what he is saying.
“You understand me, right?” San asks again. “I had to stop ‘playing around’ and grow up. I have a career to start.”
This time there isn’t a response and the cat stares up at San with those bright, unsettling scarlet eyes.
“Alright, San! You can move again. Four spaces this time. Choose wisely.”
San enters the mansion once again. There at least isn’t a choice to be made this time because he agreed that he would go meet up again with Yeosang, and he doesn’t plan to go against what he promised the other boy. He isn’t about to abandon someone when they very clearly need to stick together during this time.
When he goes through the door Yeosang originally went through, he is shocked to find that it is another exit to the outside. Although, technically, it isn’t outside. There are some walls surrounding a small garden, looking as if it is half part of the house and half part of the outside world. There isn’t much around except for some tall violet flowers. They stand upright, about as high as sunflowers, but they are connected to thick, thorny bushes. If it is a type of plant that exists, San has never seen it before.
Yeosang isn’t alone. In front of him is Hongjoong who apparently decided to follow them on his turn. Yeosang is seated on the ground, inspecting one of his laced-up boots that is now coated in a fluorescent purple goo.
“What happened?” San asks. As he does, the cat leaps out of his arms and runs right for Yeosang. At first, Yeosang stumbles as he tries to get up, losing his footing and falling backwards a little. His eyes are wide, seated on the ground as he watches the cat leap towards him.
But the cat only lands on Yeosang’s chest and nuzzles into Yeosang’s jawline with a loud, rumbling purr. Yeosang glances up at Hongjoong and then San. “Where did you find the cat?”
“In a graveyard,” San replies and realizes how ridiculous it sounds. Also what a bad idea it probably should have been to take a cat that was lurking in a graveyard.
“There’s a graveyard here?” Hongjoong asks. Yeosang tentatively strokes the purring animal, and San watches the cat headbutt his hand, eager for more and not wanting him to stop. Why does Yeosang get this reaction and San got hissed at?
“The room I went to was a graveyard. It filled with smoke, though. I couldn’t see anything, but I found this cat,” San says, failing to add the part where he fell over the cat. “But what happened here?”
Yeosang continues to stroke the vibrating animal, his lips pursing a little bit in thought. “I really don’t know. Something slimy tried to grab me out of nowhere. I don’t think I stepped in something.” He glances back down at the goo on his boot. “I got out, though. Then Hongjoong showed up. Then you.” He stops petting the cat for a tiny bit and the cat frantically paws at Yeosang, meowing insistently about something . The bell on his collar jingles with each movement. Hongjoong scoop the cat up and receives a loud protest from the cat. He ignores him and looks at the collar.
“It says his name is Nero.”
There is a hiss in response to that.
“I got hissed at too,” San says, “but he likes Yeosang for some reason.”
Without the cat on top of him, Yeosang is finally able to return to his feet. There is another hiss as Yeosang moves and, next thing they know, the cat bites Hongjoong’s hand. With a yelp of pain, he releases the creature, and Nero moves back over to Yeosang, pawing at him again. Yeosang glances at the two of them again, but he carefully scoops the cat back up in his arms. There is no hiss, there is no bite, there isn’t a sign of any emotion besides extreme affection.
“We know you’re pretty, but I didn’t think cats cared about that,” Hongjoong comments as he shakes his hand.
Before San even realizes what he is doing, he blurts out: “I have a weird feeling the cat can understand us.” There is a firm meow in responses, almost like it is an agreement. “I know it sounds crazy, but. . .”
“This is a dream,” Hongjoong adds. “There are crazier things that happen in dreams.”
He isn’t wrong, and San knows that. If anyone knows dreams, it is San. But then why does he still think it is a bit strange the cat seems to understand them so easily? Cats can respond, sure, but it is almost like he is human with his quickness to respond to them.
“Maybe we should take our turns together again,” Hongjoong offers. He finally stops shaking his hand and steals a glance at Yeosang and the cat; the latter’s eyes are closed, purring in delight again as Yeosang returns to petting him.
“I was in the middle of mine,” San says. And he still probably is in the middle of it, unless the Game Master is ruling anything to stop his turn again.
As if thinking of him summoned him, the Game Master’s commanding voice echoes again: “What a wonderful strategy! All of you can move at least four steps, except San. You already took two of them.”
“I wish he would stop doing that,” San mumbles.
“I guess we have no other choice but to continue on,” Yeosang says. Hongjoong nods and does not hesitate to take the lead, something San is incredibly thankful for. He leads the way, opening the next door, San right behind him and Yeosang just behind San. San can feel his heart pounding again, an unease from not knowing what is in store for them.
Wherever San expected the new door to lead, he certainly did not expect to find an organ room before them. There isn’t much else in the room except the organ and a couple of seats scattered around for listening pleasure.
“This house is so weird,” Yeosang comments from behind them. There is another meow of agreement.
Entering the room, Hongjoong moves slowly. He approaches the organ a bit hesitantly. His fingers stroke over the keys. Unlike the hallway, there seems to be no dust, and that itself is a little unnerving.
Hongjoong presses down on a key and it drones a low sounding note. It sounds too loud in the room, so powerful that San can feel it vibrating his bones. His breath catches as Hongjoong continues to play a couple of notes, his fingers wandering over the keyboard. It’s like they are trapped in a fish tank and someone keeps banging on the glass hard enough to vibrate their whole entire bodies.
A slim finger presses down on another note and, instead of the drone of the organ, there is a click behind them. San jumps, at first thinking of a gun, although it sounded nothing like any gun he heard before.
But with the click is a quiet rumbling as part of the wall unhinges itself and slides open to reveal a secret passageway. No one goes to make a move as the secret entrance opens and all three boys stare at it without moving.
“How did you know to do that?” San asks, a bit amazed. He notices even the cat is staring from the comfort of Yeosang’s arms.
Hongjoong turns back to them and flashes a smile. “I didn’t.” He faces the new passageway again. “We should go in.”
San swallows hard. He tries to erase from his mind that it could very possibly be a trap. But this whole entire mansion can be a trap. What would make this door different than the other doors?
Hongjoong doesn’t wait for anyone to agree or disagree. He walks through the entrance without any hesitation, and San admires him. He exchanges a glance with Yeosang, and at least the other boy seems hesitant as well. Yeosang is the first to move and San resumes walking behind him. The cat looks back at him as if checking to make sure he follows.
It appears to be made of a gray stone, just like the wall that opened to reveal it. The floor itself is concrete and honestly hard to see because the hallway is so dark. There are sconces lighting the area, but, unlike the other hallways, they are spaced farther apart. In fact, they are so far apart that there are sections of almost complete darkness in between them. San makes sure to stay close to Yeosang and resists the urge to latch onto him. He doesn’t wish to show he is unsettled by the dark, but he also doesn’t want to lose him.
The passageway seems about as long as the other hallways, or perhaps it is a bit shorter and the patches of darkness make it seem longer than it is. At the end is another stone door with a handle. Hongjoong does not wait for the others to catch up, nor does he ask if either of them have any objections to him opening the door. They really don’t have much choice, but San can’t help but admire how the man readily takes charge.
When Hongjoong pulls on the metal handle, there is a slight groan as the door slides open. There is a small crunch as a couple of rocks cascade down as if they were in the way until it is time for the door to be moved.
It connects to a bedroom.
And they aren’t alone.
A shrill scream greets them when the wall slides fully open, and all three of them scream back. San jumps backwards, ready to fight, and he hears Nero hiss.
But it’s just Mingi. Beomgyu is also with him and seems not as surprised by the wall opening, or maybe he just expected Mingi to scream. However, he is still watching them with wide eyes, and his eyes latch onto the cat who now joined them.
“Where did you guys come from?” Beomgyu asks as Mingi beside him attempts to catch his breath. San realizes that he too is breathing quickly, and he tries to calm himself as he looks around the room. It is a small room meant only for one person. There is a twin bed across from them, but it is completely disheveled with the wool blanket and pillows tossed about. Clothes lay on top of the messy bed, and, from the look of it, it is a butler’s uniform: there is a black suit and tie, black slacks, and even a pair of white gloves resting on top of everything.
The white parts have flecks of red stains on them.
“An organ room,” Hongjoong answers while San continues to stare at the red markings. “One of the keys opened up a hidden passage that led here.”
There’s a shuffling from the same passageway, and San scurries over to the side, a bit closer to Yeosang. He is wondering if something was unlocked when the door opened and if that same something decided to follow them and chase them down.
But it is the last boy of the group: Yeonjun.
When he comes through, his eyes flit over the group of them, a questioning look on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but he is cut off by the too familiar booming voice: “Look at that! Everyone is united! At last! What an interesting turn of events to meet up at the servant’s bedroom. Looks like he has been busy and has been up to something, huh?”
At this time San realizes that it is very possible that they aren’t alone here in this mansion. Is the servant still wandering around somewhere else in the house, waiting for the opportunity to attack and to stain one of his other uniforms?
“Guess it is time to work on your strategy again, huh? Careful, it could make the very difference between life and death and we wouldn’t want anything unfortunate happening too soon, right?” The Game Master finishes his announcement with a maniacal laugh and does not speak again afterward.
“He’s really enjoying this way too much,” Beomgyu comments, the first to speak up with a hint of disgust in his voice.
San is still staring at the butler’s bloody clothes, but he hears Hongjoong speak up, “Well, San, you have one more room to move, why don’t you and Yeosang go back? We will find you if anything changes.”
Yeonjun nods. “We can explore here.”
San is more than happy to be told where to go and what to do; he also doesn’t want to stick around to see if the butler returns.
Together with Yeosang, both boys return to the brick hallway. Even if they were just in here, it still is too unsettling, so San tries to start a conversation to distract himself from where they are at.
“What do you think he wants with us?”
Yeosang purses his lips, stroking Nero for a couple of seconds before he responds. “That isn’t him. Wooyoung, I mean.” Nero meows loudly and starts to paw at Yeosang frantically. It is too much and Yeosang has to stop walking and squirms as he tries to get the cat to settle down. San moves over and scoops up the cat easily; he is used to cats, he knows cats. The cat yowls in protest, but he stops squirming as San pulls him close to his chest, holding him securely as he strokes Nero between the ears.
“He’s a feisty one,” San comments. He then kisses the top of the cat’s head. Nero only grumbles in a slight complaint. “Never seen one with red eyes before. You must be special.” The last comment actually gets the cat purring. Scratching between the ears again, he glances over at Yeosang. “Do you think Wooyoung isn’t really here? Or do you think he is possessed or something?”
Yeosang shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I know that isn’t him. He doesn’t even speak like him. And he wouldn’t be capable of hurting anyone.”
They return to the organ room, and after the passage, the light feels way too bright. Squinting his eyes until they adjust, San continues to pet the cat and ponders the situation. The cat is still purring and seemingly calmer now. What made him so antsy is unclear, but the moment has clearly passed.
“Whenever I go into a dream it is run by one person. I don’t think any others were in the dream before besides me and the one who was having the dream.” He stops mid-scratch, a thought occurring to San. “Do you think that one of us is the target? I don’t know why the rest of us are here, but do you think whoever is doing this just wants to target one person?”
Yeosang leans against the wall next to the passageway. Resting his head back against it, he stares up at the ceiling and seems to think for a second. “We need to figure out who is the target.”
“Maybe it’s you,” San offers, blurting it out before he can really think it through or stop himself. Yeosang turns back to face him, his face stern and serious. It seems out of place on his gorgeous face.
“Me?”
“I-I mean if you’re the only one who knows Wooyoung, so it is possible,” San rambles off. He doesn’t think Yeosang will freak out after hearing this, but it is still possible that he could. Plus, it would be San’s fault for making him freak out, and he already feels a little bit guilty for putting the idea into the other man’s head. “I could be here by accident. I slip in and out of dreams, so maybe I’m not supposed to be here.”
“And what about the others?”
San frowns and Nero leaps down suddenly from his arms. “Well, you need a bunch of players for a game.”
“And why does he need a game?”
San shrugs and watches as the cat wanders over to the organ’s keys and starts playing them. Loud, abrupt sounds echo throughout the small room, way too loud in the silence.
“ Nero !“ San yells and resists the urge to cover his ears. Nero fixes his scarlet eyes on San and pulls his lips back into another hiss, but he stops playing the keys.
“And none of your, uh, ‘dream-walks’ have been this crazy before?”
On the other side of the passageway, San joins Yeosang as he slumps against the wall. Closing his eyes, he shakes his head.
“No. They were just dreams. Normal, average dreams. Only one other person and no life or death consequences.” Unconsciously, San chews his lip after he says the last sentence. “Do you think he really could kill us? Do you think he wants to?”
Finally, Yeosang moves away from the wall and goes over to Nero who is just sitting on the organ’s seat, his eyes fixed on them the entire time. When Yeosang approaches him, he turns to greet him, meowing once in greeting, his tail curling happily. Yeosang scoops him back into his arms and finally says, “Let’s try not to test it.”
“Good news!” The Game Master’s voice rings through the room, making all three of them jump. Spine rigid, San jumps off the wall, his fight-or-flight response triggered. Yeosang only jumps in place, but Nero leaps from his arms with a screech. Hackles raised and tail floofed, Nero also seems ready for a fight. “It is your turn once more, San! Do you want to take the turn together again? You two have become quite the pair, haven’t you? Sticking with each other. So loyal and so smart! Both of you really know how to have a strategy, huh?”
Without acknowledging the odd compliments, Yeosang replies, “Yeah, we will take our turn together again.”
“Perfect! Both of you can still move four steps. Choose wisely! And don’t go through the wrong door!” He laughs and then he disappears, but San knows he is still watching and listening. He shudders.
“So, uh, which way do we want to go?”
Nodding at one of the doors, Yeosang responds, “That way? It doesn’t matter.”
Sucking a breath through his teeth, San listens. They really can’t make a wrong decision if they don’t know what is behind any of the doors. He opens the door carefully, hardly even noticing he is holding his breath.
It’s just another hallway.
But when San moves forward, the floor below him complains. It isn’t a new hallway, it is the same hallway they were in before with the creaky floor. Glancing back at Yeosang, he says, “It’s the hallway we were just in.”
The cat runs ahead of Yeosang and they both move into the hallway. The dramatic floor even creaks when the cat walks on it although he can’t be heavy enough to put any stress on the wooden tiles.
Without asking which way to go, San moves towards a door. Of course, it isn’t until he opens the door that he notices it is actually the door to the hallway covered in dust. With a quiet tsk , San scolds himself; he should have remembered that, he knew the door went there.
Thankfully, Yeosang doesn’t judge him for going to the same area. They move into the hallway, the cat bounding in front of them with a little bounce in his steps.
Even if Yeosang didn’t comment on San’s choice, San still allows Yeosang to take the lead. “You can pick the next room.”
With a nod and still no judgment, Yeosang selects a door on their left. The door creaks open and it is a room filled with statues. At first San just assumes they are just an art collection, but each statue has an uncanny resemblance to each of the players. Down to the lines in their faces, the same exact outfits carved into the stone, it is them.
San stops in the doorway, a chill coursing through his body. He can’t force himself to move into the room and he starts to hyperventilate.
Why ? That’s all San can think. He can’t even think of any other words after it, just one word over and over. Why why why why?
What would happen if he quit playing? Would their “gracious host” kill him?
A warm hand places itself on his shoulder, making San jump, as if he forgot for an instant that he wasn’t alone.
“Breathe.”
The deep, smooth voice of Yeosang is comforting. San latches onto it, repeating that word in his head instead, playing it in Yeosang’s voice over and over again. The little mantra works and takes effect instantly. His breathing is slower. It is still fast, but the panic fades.
Once San crosses the threshold to join Yeosang, there is a bright flash and he is teleported to another room. The statues are gone and it is a pitch black room with a spotlight on a casket. Yeosang and Nero are both gone, and it is just San and the box in front of him.
Although he isn’t sure what exactly happened, the Game Master’s goal seems clear: he is supposed to move to the casket. He walks forward, feeling as if he is floating. The moment is surreal. He has heard of out of body experiences, but he never actually had once. It must be what this is. He no longer feels connected to his body, as if he is floating above himself.
When he gets to the casket, he pulls back with a scream.
He is indeed floating above his body because it is his body that is in the casket.
The scream grows louder and a sudden pain blooms in his right hand. The room abruptly vanishes and he is back in the statuary corridor with Nero firmly latched onto his right hand with his sharp fangs. Blood has even started to trickle down and San pulls his hand back, finally breaking his hand free from the cat’s mouth. Heart racing and the panic fully engulfing him, Yeosang’s grip tightens on his shoulder, pulling San a little bit closer to him.
“San? You okay?” Yeosang asks, voice filled with concern. Nero echoes Yeosang with a meow.
Without responding, San stares down at his hand. Nero bit him hard: there’s a lot of blood flowing from the bite marks. He continues to stare at it, watching blood blossom out of his wound, bubbling up and flowing over. His hand is shaking and he can hardly feel the pain.
“ San !”
San snaps his head to look at Yeosang. The boy’s other hand grabs San’s wounded one carefully, fingers wrapping around San’s in an attempt to steady the shaking.
Closing his eyes, San tries to breathe.
“I-I’m okay,” San says, but his voice breaks and he certainly does not sound fine.
“What happened? You stopped and just started screaming.”
San swallows hard. “I. . .I was dead.” He pauses, but Yeosang waits for him to continue. “It. . .it was my funeral. And I was dead.”
Nero meows once, sounding like a question, but that is all that is said about it. San opens his eyes once more, looking over the statues again. He wouldn’t rather be here, but he certainly did not want to be stuck in that dark room with his own body again.
“Come on, let’s continue and get out of here.”
Yeosang moves, but he keeps his hand wrapped around San’s fingers. It should feel be weird, but San isn’t going to complain. Body heat from another human is sometimes the most comforting thing.
San allows Yeosang to guide him to another door next to the Hongjoong statue. This doorway leads to outside once more, but it isn’t really outside. There is a fenced in patio looking out at the mansion’s entrance and the very same steps San walked up to this horror show. The balcony hangs a little bit off the side and overlooks the steps and some of the forest. In front of the rail are two skeletons, one arm draped over the front of one as if they are snuggling together on the balcony. They look positioned like Halloween decorations, but the bones look a little too real.
“Y-You can see it too, right?” San asks, still hesitant about whatever happened to him. Hallucination? Vision? Hopefully something that won’t come true?
“Yeah. I can,” Yeosang says and the cat bounds over to it. Part of San wants to stop the cat and to warn it to get away in case it is a trap or something, but there is nothing hesitant in the cat as he wanders over to the skeletons. He jumps on the chest of one, and both Yeosang and San gasp at the same time. The cat paws at something in the rib cage, but his gentle smacks don’t get anywhere with the ribs. He turns back and meows at both of them.
Yeosang shakes his head and takes a step back. “Uh uh. No. Hell no.”
Nero meows again, a bit louder and longer this time.
Swallowing thickly, San steps forward. “I’ll do it.” Although he says it, San certainly does not feel like doing it, nor does he feel courageous enough to stick his hand into a former dead person. It also doesn’t matter if the cat already did it and proved it isn’t a trap; San is still convinced it is a trap. His stomach twists uncomfortably as he walks toward the skeletons, one careful foot after the other. Nero’s ears perk up as he gets closer, meowing again directly at San as those bright scarlet eyes bore into him.
Who is this cat and is he important?
What if the cat is meant to lead them to a trap? A cat led him here; why can’t the cats be working for the Game Master?
San pushes the intrusive thought away as he kneels down in front of the skeleton. He expects them to smell like death, but surprisingly there is no scent except the fresh, crisp autumn air thick with fallen leaves. Jumping to San’s side, Nero moves out of San’s away, but remains attentive in watching San’s every moment as if he is watching his prey.
Extending his arm, San holds his breath. It takes every bit of his will to push his fingers forward and into the skeleton’s rib cage. The bone is chilled from the wind and feels foreign and ice cold against his fingers. He wonders if the bone is thick or fragile as his hand moves through the space where the cat was reaching minutes before.
That’s when he sees it: a bright gold medallion in the center of the rib cage. Its gold chain is wrapped around a bone by the shoulders, making it dangle and swing with the wind cutting through the skeleton’s bare body. It's further back, and San can’t reach it either.
Allowing himself to resume breathing, San takes a deep breath and then breaks a couple of ribs off the skeleton. They seem brittle, but they provide a little resistance when he tries. Thankfully, he is much stronger, and the action is easy for him.
He loops the chain around a finger and finally pulls it through the wider opening. It swings out and Nero meows in delight. There is a pattern engraved into the front: in the center is a skull with a repetition of whimsical designs and little cat faces.
When it is out, San waits for something to trigger. But nothing happens. He rules it as safe and drops it around his neck, the gold seeming a bit out of place as it rests against his white and silver corset vest. Tracing the edges of the newly acquired item, San looks up at Yeosang.
“A necklace?” Yeosang asks, a bit dumbfounded. And when he says it San realizes how ridiculous it seems. It really is just a necklace, and why the cat made a big deal about it, San doesn’t know. Is it important or is the cat just happy he found something?
On their next turn, the both of them move to a dining room. Yeosang finds a ring resting in a champagne flute and he pulls it out.
“Maybe they will be important?” San says as Yeosang look at the ring, but San isn’t really convinced of it. The most important thing they found so far was the cat who is back resting happily in San’s arms. It is almost like San earned the cat’s approval once more by taking the second to get the medallion the cat was so interested in.
“Go ahead and select the next door,” Yeosang tells him. He continues to look over the ring and then he slides it over one of his fingers to carry it.
San adjusts the cat in his arms so he can open up the nearest door; he tells himself it will be good enough. It is just an empty room, perhaps an empty bedroom with nothing in it yet.
Although it is odd, San still steps in. There is a crack and the wood beneath San’s feet suddenly gives way and he falls forward with Nero still in his arms.
“ San !“
Yeosang’s voice is drowned out by the wind rushing past San’s ears; it even drowns out his own yelling as well as Nero’s loud yowling. For the few seconds he has, he wonders if this is really it and this is one of the traps the Game Master has left for them to find. He said to be careful to not enter any of the wrong rooms, and San clearly entered the wrong room.
The falling is over about as soon as it starts, and it ends abruptly when he crashes into plastic, wooden, and metal shelving units. It lessens the impact for when he hits the ground, and Nero ends up escaping out of his arms before he collides with the pavement so he isn’t squished underneath him. Stunned, he takes a little bit to start moving, his whole body aching and stinging.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” says the Game Master’s voice. San forces himself to look up and there he is standing in front of him with the too-wide smirk plastered on his face again. San wishes he could smack him, but every bone and muscle in his body is screaming dramatically still. He is clearly okay, but it still hurts.
Then the smirk vanishes and an uncharacteristic expression takes over his face. “Are you okay?” The Game Master says it quietly, almost gently as if he is talking to a loved one instead of one of his many player pawns.
And San refuses to believe for a second that he is actually concerned or that he could ever actually care about him.
“Yeah. I’m okay,” San says although he doesn’t feel okay, he knows he is okay. There wouldn’t be any way San would show vulnerability and admit he wasn't okay.
“You’re bleeding.” The Game Master practically chastises him.
Glancing down at his body, San notices he really is bleeding. Somewhere on his way down he sliced his arm open pretty good. It is still bleeding, dripping blood slowly down his arm. Some of it lands on his vest and his pants, seeping into the white and turning spots of it bright red with fuzzy pink edges. It isn’t until San sees the wound that he feels the gentle ache from a fresh wound.
“Here,” the Game Master says and walks towards San. All of San’s muscles tense and he sits up quickly even if it hurts to do so. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you, darling. I would have done it already if I was going to do it. I don’t plan to hurt you.”
Although San wishes to ask why he is doing this, he keeps his mouth shut. He remains frozen, ready to fight or flee if the Game Master is lying, and he wants to be ready for any possibility.
The Game Master closes the distance between them and kneels down in front of San. As he lowers himself down to his knees, he pulls out something from his long red coat. San watches that hand, ready for a weapon. But whatever he pulls out is in a small jar. San catches himself blinking, honestly surprised.
“I already said I’m not going to hurt you, darling. Now just relax.”
Relaxing really isn’t an option for San, especially not when the man who trapped him here is right in front of him. The Game Master unscrews the jar and dips his fingers in and, when he pulls them out, they are coated in a thick, white lotion-like substance. Those fingers move carefully over San’s wound on his arm. He tenses, but the Game Master is surprisingly gentle. He is careful to only place the cream on the wound and to not touch the open cut. He coats San’s arm with a thin layer; some of San’s blood spreads on the Game Master’s hand as he works, but he doesn’t seem bothered at all. San just watches him in quiet fascination.
He didn’t understand the Game Master before, but now he doesn’t think he has any chance of understanding him.
“There. You should be better soon,” the Game Master says. San shifts his gaze from his wound to the Game Master’s face again and he catches the latter smiling at him. An honest smile, a real smile, a caring smile. And he actually has a nice smile when it is real. It brightens up his face, making his eyes close slightly and seem to glow positive energy. San’s eyes fixate on a mole under his left eye.
“Take care, darling,” the Game Master says. He is still smiling and he is still talking in that soft tone. It is almost like the words are laced with love, and, instead of feeling even more unsettled by this, San only gets more confused.
Why is he acting like he cares about him?
The Game Master stands back up and both of them are still looking at each other: the Game Master still wearing the protective smile, and San still trying to figure him out.
But they are finally interrupted by a loud hiss. It snaps San back to reality, realizing they aren’t alone.
He hears Nero before he sees him, but it is only by a second or so because the cat charges over by the boys and launches himself at the Game Master.
“N-Nero!” San catches himself yelling, and he isn’t sure if it is out of surprise or if he is trying to scold the cat for attacking the man who just helped him.
Nero flies at the Game Master with fangs out and claws extended. They snag on his ringmaster’s coat and tear into it on his right sleeve. The Game Master attempts to shake him off, but the cat refuses to let go, his cries becoming louder as he tries. Claws flash towards the Game Master’s face, and he takes advantage of the moment to break free from the cat. Nero falls elegantly on his four paws, his hackles still raised and scarlet eyes flashing with a hunger for violence. When he goes to leap up again, San grabs him. The cat complains and squirms in his hands, still hissing and ready for a fight.
“I-I’m sorry,” San says before he even thinks it through and he is suddenly apologizing for the cat who attacked the man who trapped him here. He feels a bit foolish, but the cat at least stops trying to escape. His eyes are still locked onto his target, though, and the Game Master straightens out of his jacket.
“You fucking cat!” The Game Master continues to examine his coat, and then both animal and man are glaring at each other again. Nero starts to squirm again suddenly and he manages to break free from San. He goes for the Game Master again, but the latter evaporates into air before the cat can get to him. The cat cuts through the bits of red smoke as they fizzle out and huffs in frustration.
“Why did you do that!?” San yells at the cat. Nero turns around and hisses loudly at San. “What’s the matter with you all of a sudden!? Why are you so angry!?”
Nero just huffs again and sits down. His fur starts to relax, but he keeps his back to San. With a sigh, San rests back. In the sudden quiet San realizes how ridiculous he himself is being. The Game Master gave him something to help his wound, yes, and he can feel it working already actually. But that still doesn’t change anything. He is still trapped in this dream, he is still forced to play this game. And why he yelled at the cat for attacking someone who doesn’t plan to really help him by releasing him, San doesn’t know.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, watching as Nero’s tail continues to whip back and forth in frustration. “You’re trapped here too and—“
And you’re on my side . The thought pops into his head just as he is about to say it. It’s true, right? Nero hasn’t done anything to prove to San that he isn’t on his side and it is almost as if Nero is another additional player in the game.
Nero cranes his neck around to look at San with narrowed red eyes. His tail is still swishing back and forth, but it isn’t nearly as fast as it was a couple of seconds ago.
“And I’m sorry,” San repeats when he realizes the cat might actually be waiting for him to finish his sentence.
Before he can say anything else, a slow, quiet instrument plays in the distance. It starts to build up, getting louder and louder. It sounds like a string instrument, maybe a fiddle. The song is lethargic but haunting as it echoes throughout the mansion. There’s something a bit melancholy about it that makes it eerie.
“Congratulations! One of your teammates has so luckily found a cursed item and triggered an event to take place. You hear that? That quiet sound? Well, that is the fiddler, and he has a cursed fiddle. Can you feel it? Deep in your bones? The urge to dance? Well, that’s exactly what he wants you to do. He wants all of you to dance together in the ballroom forever. Well, forever until you die. It’s a dance of death if you must.
“The fiddle’s music is going to make you wish to be in that ballroom, although I guarantee you will not want to be in that ballroom. What you want to do is head towards the Pentachamber that has just been unlocked somewhere in this house. And you want to protect sweet Beomgyu and the item he found until you all are there. Together, as one, you can break the curse.
“You also aren’t limited to taking turns now and can all move at the same time. However, I cannot guarantee that all of you will be strong enough to fight the pull to the ballroom. Best of luck to all of you.”
When the Game Master finishes, San feels it. Akin to a magnetic pull, San feels like he needs to go back upstairs. He can feel it: that’s where the ballroom is. His spirit is light and he knows he must dance as he is hypnotized by the song infecting his brain.
“Ow!”
Nero is latched onto San’s hand suddenly, digging his fangs into his skin. After he shouts, Nero releases himself. There are puncture wounds left where he bit, blood already blooming out from it. His other hand, San finally realizes, is on the door in the storage room. Out of his trance, he realizes he truly had every intention of heading towards that ballroom and to his doom. But Nero broke him out of it.
“Thank you,” he breathes in relief. The temptation is still there, he can feel it, but it is buried deep down like a dull ache. If he focuses on it, it gets stronger, but if he doesn’t acknowledge it, it is almost like it isn’t there.
Nero meows at him, shrill and demanding. Wondering if Nero thinks he is about to slip back into the hypnotization, San releases the door.
But Nero meows again at him. He then bounds a couple of steps away then turns back to San. He is waiting for him to follow him, just like the cat in the beginning of the dream.
Deciding to trust the cat and accept that Nero has to be on his side, San follows him through the storage room. Pieces are broken and different knick-knacks are shattered from San’s descent into the room. Where he was sitting before has a couple of stains of blood drops. He tries to ignore all of it and moves through the mess to follow Nero. The cat elegantly evades all the obstacles, and San is much further behind.
Nero stops at another door in the room. He claws at it impatiently, meowing loudly again as if San is too stupid to get what he means from just attacking the door.
“Hang on, hang on,” San says breathlessly as he maneuvers around the last couple of obstacles. Nero meows again when San reaches the door. “You aren’t patient, are you?” Turning the door knob, San pushes the door open.
It opens with a quiet creak and reveals an empty room. The floor is concrete and it is bare; it looks like an unfinished basement or a room someone forgot about a long time ago.
For a second, San wonders what the cat wanted with this room, but the cat bounces through the room without any hesitation.
“Nero!” He yells after him, chasing the cat until they are on the other side of the room. Nero stops at another door and stands up on his hind legs, swatting the door again with his claws. “Will you wait !?" Truthfully, San knows they probably don’t have much time to wait, but he would prefer if Nero would at least wait for him to catch up instead of acting so frantic.
Of course the cat doesn’t wait and meows at San again. San pushes the door open as quickly as he can, and it opens to reveal a kitchen. San stares, confused; he could have sworn they were in a basement, and what a kitchen is doing here he isn’t sure. It is a fairly large kitchen, as well. There is a tiny table in the corner for eating or snacking, and there are many counters laid out. Although the mansion seemed pretty Victorian, there are a bunch of appliances such as the stove, sink, and even a fridge; lights also do not really belong, but at least those were a little more forgivable than the appliances.
Nero races over to a cabinet and swats at it. San is trying to catch up again to open it, but Nero manages to smack it open. The door swings open and Nero places two paws into the entrance and reaches in and pulls out something with his mouth. It looks like a board to a board game, and it is about the size of Nero. San moves to the cat’s size and helps Nero who is struggling a bit to pull it out of the cabinet. San takes it and lays it open on the floor.
It’s an empty spirit board.
San isn’t very familiar with them, but he knows that there is supposed to be something else to the board like a clear glass to push around on it.
And what the cat wants with the board, San really doesn’t want to know. The Game Master did not say it was a required item in their game, nor does San want to talk with any spirits or ghosts if he can help it.
Before he realizes what is happening, Nero jumps at him and bites down on the medallion still hanging around his neck. He is about to protest when the cat yanks it with effort from his entire body and the chain breaks. The cat has already turned away when San manages a scolding warning of Nero’s name. It doesn’t phase the cat at all, and he drops the medallion on the board. San just stares at the cat, more confused than irritated. Nero meows once at him again, and San doesn’t understand what the cat wants from him. The cat pushes the medallion over the “I.” San continues to stare, watching the cat. With his paw still on top off it, Nero moves it over to an “A” then an “M” and then other letters. San watches him, trying to figure out what is going on when the cat repeats the sequence.
IAMWOOYOUNG.
I am Wooyoung .
Dumbfounded, San continues to stare at the board then looks at the cat. When he does, the cat meows at him again.
“Wooyoung. . .?”
After San speaks, the world turns dark suddenly.