Chapter Text
Wer liebt, besitzt nicht; wer besitzen will, liebt nicht.
–
Y/N can't honestly say what she was dreaming about. The details slip away the instant she reaches for them, dissolving before she can make sense of them. All that remains is a strange, lingering feeling in the pit of her stomach, as though she has forgotten something incredibly important, something she should remember, something that matters more than she can possibly understand. It nags at her even as consciousness slowly begins to pull her awake.
With a quiet sigh, she decides there is no point dwelling on it. Dreams are strange like that, aren't they? They disappear the moment you wake up, no matter how desperately you try to hold onto them. Whatever it was will probably come back to her eventually, or maybe it won't. Either way, she should stop lying around and get up before she wastes the whole morning.
Her eyelids flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and she instinctively prepares herself to find the familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling waiting above her.
Instead, she is greeted by a narrow strip of pale blue sky, hemmed in on both sides by towering brick buildings that stretch high enough to swallow almost everything else from view. It takes her sluggish, sleep-fogged mind several long seconds to process what she is looking at, because it makes absolutely no sense. This isn't her room. It isn't even indoors.
For a long, silent moment, she simply stares upward, completely frozen as her brain struggles to catch up with what her eyes are telling her. The world feels strangely distant, as though she is still halfway trapped inside her dream, waiting for reality to settle back into place. When it doesn't, the only sound that leaves her lips is a small, confused whisper.
"...What?"
The word barely escapes her mouth before she jerks upright so quickly that the world tilts alarmingly around her. A wave of dizziness crashes over her, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut for a heartbeat as she steadies herself. When the spinning finally eases, she looks around properly for the first time, and her growing confusion twists into something far closer to unease.
She's sitting in the middle of a narrow alleyway enclosed by rough brick walls, their dark surfaces slick with what she assumes is rain. Black rubbish bags are stacked carelessly beside an overflowing skip, the faint smell of damp refuse lingering in the cool morning air. Beneath her, the concrete is cold enough that she can feel it seeping through her clothes, the chill biting at her skin.
She's in an alley.
A real alley.
Not one she recognises, either. She's certain of that almost immediately. It isn't tucked behind her house, it isn't somewhere in town, and it definitely isn't anywhere her parents have ever taken her. No matter how hard she searches her memory, nothing about this place feels even remotely familiar.
Her heartbeat begins to climb, each pulse a little faster than the last. A nervous knot forms in her stomach as she looks around again, almost hoping that a second glance will somehow make everything make sense. It doesn't. The towering brick walls, the overflowing skip, the rubbish bags... they all remain stubbornly, undeniably real.
Okay.
Okay...
Maybe she's still dreaming.
That has to be it.
People have dreams that feel real sometimes, don't they? She's heard about that before. Maybe this is one of those weird, super realistic dreams that only seem strange after you wake up. It isn't the best explanation, but it's the only one she has, and right now she clings to it with surprising determination.
Taking a steadying breath, she reaches over and pinches her arm as hard as she possibly can.
"Ow!"
A sharp sting shoots through her skin, making her immediately snatch her hand back with a wince. Tears briefly prick at the corners of her eyes from the unexpected pain, and she rubs the sore spot instinctively, waiting for everything around her to blur, fade away, or simply disappear.
Nothing happens.
The alley remains exactly as it is, silent and still beneath the pale morning sky. A gentle breeze slips through the narrow passage, cool against her face as it carries the lingering scent of rain-soaked brick and damp concrete. Mixed in with it is something unexpectedly warm and comforting, the unmistakable smell of fresh bread or pastries baking somewhere nearby. The combination is so vivid, so ordinary, that it only makes the situation feel even more impossible.
Dreams aren't usually this detailed... are they?
Swallowing uneasily, she pushes herself fully to her feet, brushing the dust and grit from the backs of her shorts. The movement is automatic, more out of habit than conscious thought, but as her eyes drift down to herself, she abruptly freezes.
"...These aren't my pyjamas."
She blinks once, then twice, staring at herself in growing disbelief. The oversized sleep shirt she'd gone to bed wearing has completely disappeared. Instead, she's dressed in a plain T-shirt, black shorts, and a pair of well-worn trainers. Every piece of clothing is unmistakably hers, she recognises them immediately, but that only makes the discovery even stranger. She knows exactly what she fell asleep wearing, and this definitely wasn't it.
"...No, no, no..."
Her breathing turns shallow as panic begins creeping into her chest. She looks around again, hoping she'll spot something—anything—that explains why she's here. There has to be a reason. People don't just wake up in random alleys. Someone must have brought her here while she was asleep. As impossible as that sounds, it's still easier to believe than anything else her mind is desperately trying to come up with.
A prank? No... nobody could possibly go this far.
Kidnapping?
Sleepwalking?
Neither explanation really makes sense, especially not when she thinks about them for more than a few seconds, but they're still better than admitting she has absolutely no idea what's happening. The longer she stands still, the faster her thoughts spiral, each possibility somehow sounding more ridiculous than the last.
She forces herself to move before she can completely panic. One careful step turns into another, her trainers scraping lightly against the pavement as she makes her way towards the end of the alley. If she can just find someone, then maybe they can tell her where she is. Maybe this will all start making sense.
The alley opens onto a quiet street, and for a moment she just stands there.
Morning sunlight spills across neat rows of buildings, catching on windows and shop signs. A cyclist rides past without any obvious hurry, while a businessman walks briskly down the pavement with a coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other. Somewhere nearby, birds chatter noisily from overhead wires, and she can hear the distant hum of traffic further down the road.
Everything feels... normal.
Painfully normal.
Nobody is running around in a panic. Nobody seems confused or frightened. People chat as they walk, shops are opening for the day, and life carries on exactly as it should. It's almost unsettling, like the entire world has silently agreed that nothing unusual is happening, while she's the only person who can see that something is very, very wrong.
Then her attention catches on the shop signs.
Bright storefronts line both sides of the street, each one covered in writing she doesn't recognise. Street names, advertisements, menus taped to windows. Everywhere she looks, they're all filled with unfamiliar characters that definitely aren't English.
"..."
She frowns and stares at the nearest sign, expecting it to be complete nonsense.
Instead, she reads it.
Without even thinking.
Her head snaps towards another sign across the street.
She understands that one too.
Then another.
And another.
"What?"
She doesn't know this language.
She only speaks English. A little French, if she's lucky, but definitely not whatever this is. The characters don't look French at all. Chinese, maybe? No... Japanese? She honestly can't tell.
So why does every single word make perfect sense?
It's as natural as reading a book she's owned for years. She doesn't have to stop and think or sound anything out. She simply looks at the writing, and somehow, she understands it.
A knot tightens in her stomach as she stares at the sign in front of her, hoping that if she looks at it for long enough, the words will suddenly stop making sense.
"...That's not possible."
The quiet murmur barely leaves her lips before someone passes by. A woman walking a bicycle offers her a small, polite smile as she goes.
"おはよう."
"Morning," Y/N replies automatically.
She takes three more steps before her brain finally catches up with what just happened.
Her feet stop moving.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
She turns around.
The woman has already disappeared into the flow of people further down the street, completely unaware that she's just shattered Y/N's understanding of... well, everything.
"...I..."
She understood her.
Not just understood, she answered her.
She didn't stop to think. She didn't translate the words in her head first. She simply heard them, knew exactly what they meant, and replied without even realising she'd done it. It had felt as natural as speaking English.
The panic she's been trying so hard to keep under control crashes over her all at once, hitting with enough force that her chest feels tight.
"What is happening?"
The words come out louder than she intends. A few people glance in her direction as they walk past, their expressions briefly curious before they quickly look away again and continue with their day as though nothing happened.
Great.
Now she's talking to herself in the middle of the street.
Fantastic.
She squeezes her eyes shut for a second and forces herself to take a slow breath. Then another. Panicking has never solved anything before, and it's definitely not going to start now. As terrifying as this is, standing here freaking out won't magically fix it.
She has to think.
If she can understand the language, then she can ask someone for help. There has to be a police station nearby. Or a hospital. Someone has to know where she is, or at the very least help her find her parents.
Someone.
Anyone.
She starts walking again, trying her best to ignore the way her hands won't stop trembling. One foot goes in front of the other, almost on autopilot, while her mind races in circles. Police station. Hospital. An adult. It doesn't matter who she finds first. She just needs someone to tell her what's going on.
She's so caught up in her thoughts that she barely notices the cyclist speeding towards the intersection.
She doesn't notice the delivery van turning the corner, either.
Not until someone nearby suddenly shouts.
"Watch out!"
Her head jerks up at the sound.
For a split second, everything seems to happen at once.
The cyclist yanks the handlebars to avoid her. The van's brakes slam on. Tyres screech loudly against the rain-slick road, sharp enough to make her flinch.
Y/N freezes.
Her mind goes completely blank.
The cyclist can't avoid her completely. The handlebars catch her shoulder as they rush past, throwing her off balance before she even understands what's happened.
She stumbles backwards.
One step.
Then another.
Her heel slips from the pavement onto the road.
A deafening horn tears through the air.
She doesn't even have time to look up.
Then—
Impact.
The world disappears.
Darkness swallows everything.