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The flames, burning like a torch, flickered despite the absence of wind, and even when the wind blew, it seemed unaffected.

As if it swayed along with the heart’s tremors, and remained calm when the heart was still.

The flame danced gracefully, illuminating the room and casting light upon both individuals present.

Jinseong’s face, ignited by the flame, bore an inorganic quality.

Though the dark room concealed that inhuman aspect, it could not hide it in the presence of the light and fire. Even as the flame flickered, casting shadows, Jinseong’s expression remained smooth and expressionless, akin to a doll, and his eyes—often called the window to the heart—glistened like a doll, untroubled by the flame’s movements.

That glimmering was.

The sparkle of those eyes, shining and then dimming in accordance to the flames’ dance.

It seemed almost like the predator blinking while stalking its prey.

And the person across from him sat with their head bowed, bound to the chair.

Was it the dark room’s doing?

Or perhaps it was because he was seated at an angle where the light could not reach him?

Or maybe, it was the profound darkness of his own heart?

The shadows cast upon the man’s face refused to dissipate easily, as if he had no intention of erasing them, and so he did not lift his head.

“It takes courage to take a single step forward. Even with open eyes, no one knows what hangs at the tips of their feet. Stepping into the grass could yield a snake, and what seems solid could just as well give way beneath you. A harmless-looking stone may turn out to be slick with moss, and a misstep could plunge you into a swamp from which escape requires all your might. It cannot be denied that each footprint contains unmistakable courage.”

Jinseong spoke as if trying to mesmerize that man.

With flames in his eyes and a gleam that sparkled, he gazed directly at the man.

He resembled a shepherd intent on leading a fool into becoming a blind zealot.

“Courage is certainty. It is the belief that you can, the faith that you will endure the pain, and the conviction that you can overcome hardship. Therefore, courage is the anchor of the heart, the nail that secures it. With ample courage, the heart will be unwavering, and there will be no seduction regarding the path ahead; no anxiety will rise like fog to consume the heart. This is truly desirable.”

Jinseong continued to watch the man, without even a blink of his eyelids.

“However, excess is but a manifestation of vice. Too much can be detrimental; it is the nature of the world. Excessive rain becomes a flood that sweeps away everything, and continuous warm sunshine can crack the ground and prevent crops from growing! The human heart is no different; courage follows the same principle.”

Jinseong remained doll-like, as if he were not a living being, unblinking.

“When courage becomes excessive, it turns into overconfidence and blind faith. Overconfidence makes one delude themselves about danger, blinding their perception, while blind faith leads one to refuse to acknowledge their own mistakes, drawing themselves and those around them toward destruction. Thus, the ancients referred to this as pride, calling it the cardinal sin.”

He paused for a moment before slowly beginning to move the flames.

The movement was languid, swaying like a candle in the wind.

This peculiar motion of the flames gradually shifted.

The intensity of the fire diminished, taking on a lantern-like quality, while the darkness in the room seemed to encompass it on all sides. From the center of that darkness, the flickering flame formed an uncanny distance, shrinking and growing, edging closer and further, while the shadows it cast pulsed, enchanting the observer’s eyes.

The flame nods.

Down and up.

As if a fisherman from beyond the surface were luring fish by moving the line up and down, the flame sways in a similar manner.

The flame sways.

Swaying and swaying.

Like a flickering will-o’-the-wisp wandering chaotically, the flames flickered.

Like a tiger harboring will-o’-the-wisps in its eyes, searching for prey as it turns its head about, the flame dances from left to right, right to left, mesmerizing those who gaze upon it.

The movement was slow, leaving traces, yet the pattern remained imprinted in the observer’s mind, creating the illusion of a connecting line.

Afterimages.

Though the elongated tail of the flame was absent, it firmly remained in place.

The darkness filled the spot.

Though darkness rose to fill the vacancy left by light, the remnants lingered, as if longing to remember its warmth, taking the form of a path of light.

Thus, the flames that connected forged into shapes, becoming a figure that seduced alongside the shadows.

Sway.

Swaying and swaying.

And alongside the movement of the shapes, the shadows wavered and transformed.

Like water plants beneath the surface swaying to crave the sun’s rays, the shapes thrashed loosely, stretching upward to grasp the sun.

And so the shadows, too, swayed and extended, wrapping around the man’s body.

And something moved along with that shadow.

Hiding its true self within the shadows draping like hair.

As if extending like a hand, the shadow spread its edges, forming claws to reach for the man.

Taking advantage of the darkness, a ghost approached, concealing its dispassionate eyes and preparing to bite into the neck.

Seitani.

“Self. A pitiful being swayed without purpose, relying on the collective for your standards. An empty-headed fool hesitant even to delegate thought and judgment, recoiling at the mere notion! Now, you cannot refuse. Let us converse.”

*Zzzrrr—!*

Dreams distort time.

This happens because thought transcends the realms of time and space, and the power of thought holds the potential to leap far beyond reality.

Did the ancient myths not speak of this?

Surely the fastest of all is thought.

If that is so.

If thought is indeed the fastest.

Then, thought must also be the most widely disseminated, and the most inflated.

In accordance with this principle, dreams built upon the foundation of thought hold the right to exist beyond the constraints of time and space.

“Where am I…?”

When the man opened his eyes again, he found himself in an expansive meadow.

A wide, open field stretching to the horizon.

The grass stood at varying heights, bending and swaying in the wind, while the clouds drifted lazily across the sky. Sunlight peeked through the clouds, alternately shining and hiding, painting a perfect day.

“I am, I am surely.”

The sunlight felt bright but not harsh.

The wind blew, yet it was not cold.

The grass continued to sway, tickling his legs without lacerating them.

Each and every aspect felt inviting, exuding warmth toward humanity.

This only deepened the mystery.

“I am, surely captured.”

Just moments ago, the man had been in a dark room.

A space filled with the musty scent of underground mold and dampness.

With every breath he took, he felt his lungs constrict in real time.

The air was thick with unsettling darkness, devoid of light, and no presence of grass—only the trace of insects could be felt in that place.

To suddenly move from a place that could hardly be described as pleasant to this one.

“…Is this a dream?”

As the man pondered in bewilderment, memories suddenly resurfaced.

The part about ‘dreams’ from the manual.

It stated that if a disparity existed between the last and current memory, it was likely a ploy by an evil spirit attempting to beguile a person, and to break away from it, one must ascertain whether the present was indeed a dream.

In order to convince himself that the current scenario was a dream, the man began to move.

He immediately performed what is known as a reality check.

He pinched his nose and attempted to breathe.

‘It breathes.’

Even with his nostrils firmly pinched, it felt as if they were free, and he could breathe easily.

This solidified his conviction that the current situation was indeed a dream.

‘What was I doing just now?’

Convinced it was a dream, the man started to whirl his head around.

He began to recall what he had been doing moments before, and what the situation had been.

This was both a reality check and a basic method to extricate oneself from the grip of an evil spirit. Understanding one’s situation from an objective perspective was of utmost importance.

“Yes, that mad Shinto priest was babbling about pride….”

That grotesque creature made of insects.

That priest who had seemed mad certainly uttered as much.

He had beckoned to converse.

 

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