Chapter Text
The world had a cruel sense of timing.
At two in the morning, most people were asleep. Tucked under blankets. Dreaming of nothing in particular. Not him. He was still awake, bathed in the pale blue glow of his phone screen, thumb hovering over a button that would cost him his last in-game currency.
To hell with being F2P.
The banner was ending in hours. He'd already spent everything—every gem, every key, every free summon the game had thrown at him. And still, the character with mismatched eyes refused to come home. One yellow. One olive-brown. Staring at him from the summon screen like a taunt.
His gaze drifted to the gem count in the corner.
Thirty.
Whatever. It's not like I even wanted the card that much.
He tapped 'Single Summon' anyway.
The animation played. A key slid into a coffin lock. Turned. A flash of light colored—
White.
"Aghhh…" The sound came out muffled, pressed into his pillow. No fanfare. No rainbow sparks. Just the quiet, crushing weight of another failed pull.
He dropped his phone onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.
Out of sight, out of mind.
He should have been sleeping hours ago. Instead, he'd spent the whole night chasing pixels. Tomorrow—no, today—he had deadlines. Responsibilities. A mountain of tasks he'd ignored in favor of a mobile game he'd probably quit next month.
His eyelids grew heavy. The ceiling blurred at the edges.
I'll do it all tomorrow.
Sleep tugged at him. He didn't fight it.
The darkness came slowly, wrapping around him like a blanket, pulling him under.
He dreamed of horses.
They came out of nowhere—two massive shapes, dark as smoke, their manes trailing like ink in water. They pulled a carriage behind them, black and ornate and wrong, down a dirt path that cut through a forest he didn't recognize.
The thunder of their hooves filled his ears.
He stood frozen as they approached. Their beady eyes seemed to look right through him, judging, dismissing, finding him unworthy of even a single glance.
Then they passed.
A cloud of dust exploded into his face—into his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He coughed. Choked. Bent over, spitting dirt.
What the hell?!
But the carriage was already gone. Swallowed by the trees. Vanished like it had never been there at all.
He straightened up. Took a breath. Then another.
The dust settled.
And the questions began.
How could I feel this?
He looked down at his feet. Fluffy. Furry. The rough texture of the path pressed against his 'paws'. The wind still brushed against his body. The crickets still chirped. Every detail was sharp—too sharp, too clear, too real.
This didn't feel like a dream.
Dreams were blurry. Dreams faded the moment you opened your eyes. Dreams didn't make you cough from dust or feel your own heartbeat hammering against your ribs.
But this wasn't fading.
He looked down at his hands.
Or rather— Paws.
Small, gray, furred paws.
His stomach dropped.
Why am I in a furry costume?
He stared at them. Turned them over. Flexed the tiny claws. The movement felt natural—too natural. Like these paws had always been his.
No.
A cold knot tightened in his chest.
This wasn't a costume.