CHAPTER 44

With unwavering determination, he used his gift to imprison the malevolent nightmare within himself, locking it away within the confines of his dreams.

Through great effort, he gradually regained mastery over his extraordinary ability.

Yet, the haunting memories of the horrors he had unleashed never left him, and his subjects began to refer to him not as the Dreamer but as the Nightmare.

His heart bore the burden of guilt, and he pledged never to misuse his gift again.

From that moment onward, Lysander dedicated his life to safeguarding the kingdom from the chaotic forces of his own imagination. He vowed to never use the power of nightmares again, nurturing a realm where dreams could flourish without the looming specter of nightmares.

12

Page by page, he meticulously turned the weathered leaves of the book, his fingers tracing the faded words as if seeking a long-lost secret.

The stories held within those worn pages were like forgotten dreams that had surfaced from the depths of his subconscious.

Each tale felt strangely familiar, yet he couldn't recall ever encountering them before.

The narratives whispered of a haunting déjà vu, as if he had once known them in a distant past, hidden behind the veil of memory.

It was as though these stories were fragments of his own forgotten experiences, brought back to life in the dimly lit corners of the library.

But what captivated him most was the absence of happy endings in every tale, leaving him with an eerie sense that the book's author had left them incomplete, as if the conclusion remained trapped within the recesses of the author's mind.

—ding, dong... Ding, ding...

Suddenly, the chimes of midday echoed through the library, a reminder of the outside world intruding on his reverie.

Time had slipped away, devoured by the captivating narratives that surrounded him.

Leaving the room with Number 102, they stepped back into the library's central space. The transition was startling. The overhead lights, which had been dormant in the secluded corner, now blazed with an intensity that seemed almost surreal.

It was as though the library itself had awakened from a deep slumber.

Walking through the library, a whirlwind of questions stormed through Blur's mind.

The stories he had read, the elusive memories, and the inexplicable connection he felt with "The Dreamer's" tales left him in a state of profound bewilderment.

Where had these stories originated? Why does it feel like I know them? And, most perplexing of all—what did I forget?

With each step, Blur felt like he was unraveling a labyrinthine mystery concealed within the very walls of the facility.

However, the answers remained elusive, like scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle yearning to be assembled into a coherent picture.

Number 102 on the other hand was undisturbed by the stories.

Blur tried to reach out to ask her what she knew about the secret place and the stores but gave up on asking as he didnt want her to worry much about the situation.

13

Still lost in thought, Blur wandered toward the center of the library, his eyes drawn to the enormous globe hovering in the air.

It was a mesmerizing sight, and as he stared at it, a peculiar thought crossed his mind, unbidden.

"Now that I think about it, this was the first place I saw the cat."

He couldn't help but wonder what the cat had been doing that day he had first emerged from the globe.

It felt like a lifetime ago, and his memories of that moment were tinged with the same sense of curiosity and confusion that filled him now.

As he gazed at the rotating globe, a single word escaped his lips, uttered softly as if he had just realized something odd about it.

"—cat."

The word hung in the air for a moment before a feline voice responded from within the globe.

"This is the first time you've noticed, how long have you noticed?"

Startled, Blur looked up to find the cat sitting nonchalantly on top of the globe.

It was a strange and unexpected appearance, but Blur was more focused on the cat's cryptic question.

He decided to play it coy, feigning innocence. "—Noticed what?"

"That I had been here all this while," the cat replied, its tone enigmatic and knowing.

Blur was perplexed by the cat's words. It was as if the feline knew something that he didn't, and the boy had no idea what it was referring to.

"Well... I don't know," Blur admitted.

It was the truth. He was genuinely clueless about what the cat was insinuating. His encounters with the beast, the loops, and the strange occurrences were still shrouded in mystery.

The cat, seemingly unconvinced by Blur's act, continued, "There's no point in hiding it anymore since you now know."

The boy furrowed his brow in confusion, prompting the cat to ask directly, "What do you mean by 'I know'?"

As the cat blinked, motes of white light began to float upward from its body, resembling a gentle snowfall defying gravity.

It was a surreal sight, one that held Blur's attention captive.

"[Time] concept—"

He knew that the cat's chants weren't a system command—this was something entirely different. As the shimmering particles danced in the air, they gradually took the form of an intricate clock.

The clock had two faces moving in opposite directions, connected by a small sphere at the center, resembling an astronomical clock.

The latitude time displayed on one face was "now."

"[Freeze]," the cat uttered.

In an instant, the clock's hands froze in place, and then it shattered into scattered light.

The motes hovered in the room, seemingly fixed in space, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

Blur's eyes flickered as he tried to comprehend the strange display before him. Then, he heard the voice of the cat calling out to him.

"So, Blur, you want to ask something? Or maybe several things. Where do we begin?"

The young boy was left to wonder and struggle with the mystery that appeared to be falling apart all around him.

Blur couldn't help but feel that he was about to learn a secret that was deeply buried within the walls of the facility after the cat made a significant hint.

—

The library's ethereal beauty, bathed in the searing white light from above, seemed almost otherworldly as the light traced its path through the shelves and reflected off the marble floor.