Luck Ran Out

*back at it again, developing the story bit by bit. I suggest you all pay attention to details from now on, cuz we're going on a nice ride :))

Let me know what you think. Peace out and Deus vult.*

Thus, the three of them ended their dance. It had somehow turned into quite the performance, and Mark didn't fail to notice some phones recording them as it happened. If he'd find images online of it on whatever version of social media that universe had, he'd be pretty screwed. 

"This way, Acheron," he said as he gently tugged on her coat, pulling her the right way. 

She turned around, following him, and rather than taking wrong turns, she simply grabbed on to his coat, holding slightly to him. Black Swan walked by their side, looking disheveled. Mark couldn't help but laugh. 

"Come on now, light up. You didn't have to face that thing head-on like I did. It was quite the experience I don't want to go through again." 

She stared at him with a worried expression, which was slowly turning to her usual one that seemed to hold a touch of amusement. 

"I can't comprehend how that managed to get inside your mind. You're quite the strange Nameless..." 

She leaned closer, staring into his eyes, this time not to take a peek at the wrong things but just to express her interest. Mark knew about her passion for memories and the thing she ended up doing for it—how she gave up her physical form in order to become a Memokeeper. It was something that he didn't quite agree with but understood. 

His thoughts were interrupted as she placed a finger beneath his chin, lifting his head a little as she broke any barrier meant for personal space. Her breath was warm on his lips, and his heart almost stopped. Still, his expression was kept firm, hiding whatever was going on inside. Instead, he offered a half-lipped smile. 

"What are you doing?" 

She looked into his eyes, speaking in a low voice. 

"So many memories must be tied to you, and yet... I can't see any of them. What a shame. I bet they're wonderful." 

Mark shook his head and pulled back. Acheron at his side said nothing, but she simply followed Black Swan with her gaze, blissfully unaware of the effect she's had on the Memokeeper. Both of them were monsters for beings like her, creatures who could devour or tear them to nothingness. Such was the strange duo that were united by something unspoken. 

"Yeah, sorry, but my memories are mine alone. I treasure them as much as you do, but I wouldn't go as far as you went in order to collect them. Witnessing the past of something, gathering the memories of things that were, keeping them forever... one would think it an insane task. Not me, however. It's wonderful. I had a collection of trinkets back at home from random things. It was something as simple as a bottle cap that I had from a special event," blabbered Mark, the trip walking back to the reception. 

"I see, so you also love collecting memories in one way or another. You'd make for a good Memokeeper, Mark," chuckled Black Swan, still a touch too close for comfort with him. Seeing how much he tried to keep a straight face only made her wish to push further, until he'd crack and turn into a blushing mess. 

"Anyway, we're back in the lobby. Sorry, ladies, but I have an 'appointment' to catch up to. I guess we'll see each other around, right?" 

Acheron let go of his coat, nodding as she offered a tiny smile. Black Swan waved gently, watching him depart. 

He didn't know how fast he walked, but he had gotten into his room in just a few minutes, away from anyone and everything. His heart was a mess, beating like crazy, but he was slowly adapting to the situation. It was until a specific point that such things had a strong effect on him. 

"Well, screw it. Time for my dive into the dream world." 

He settled down into the strange pool of liquid, feeling as though it didn't soak his clothes. It was a strange, cold experience that didn't really feel normal from any point of view. What else did he expect? Nothing about it was normal. He simply submerged himself in the liquid until just his head peeked out. The recorded voice kept blabbering instructions that he didn't need, focusing on the process itself. Mark just closed his eyes, focusing on the dream, and slowly, his consciousness sank deeper and deeper. 

Flashes of the past and unknown scenes crossed before him, screams and shouts filling his ears. He saw flashes of dark shapes that moved around, chaos flowing through his mind as his memory sank deeper into the dream. 

"What the?!" he shouted, standing up at once. He was in the same room, but floating objects let him know easily that it was the dream world. The images he saw didn't falter, persisting instead in his mind. Shadows, thousands of them—the very things that kept coming for him, threatening to ruin his mind. 

"Just what the hell is going on? Ah, damn it..." 

He walked around, hearing a familiar voice call out to him. It was the same boy that had offered to help with the luggage at first. 

A weird painting of sorts with hands tearing space itself open was silently watching over him from the corner of the room. He got closer to it, only to step right through and meet Misha. 

"Welcome to the Gallery of Thoughts! You can think of this as the entrance to the Golden Hour. I'm here to provide guidance to our guests." 

Mark smiled a little, nodding to the boy. 

"A pleasure to see you again. I hope it's all going fine." 

He was surprised, smiling despite himself. 

"You remember me? I'm so glad. And yes, everything is alright. I've met a lot of interesting people." 

Mark chuckled, glad at the boy's joyous demeanor. Something about him still buzzed in his mind, but he chose to focus on the moment. Perhaps out of instinct, Mark chose to softly pat the boy on the shoulder, his touch firm. 

"That's good. Glad to hear that you're having fun while working. It's what matters most, right? Doing a job you hate... I don't want to go through it again." 

Misha nodded, but he stared at his shoulder for a moment longer. 

"I understand. Well, you should have no problem in the Golden Hour. All your worries shall dissipate." 

Mark nodded, going ahead. 

"I'll keep that in mind. Take care, alright?" 

His steps carried him on the platform and up to the other weird painting. They were doors, but the eerie way they worked bugged Mark out a bit. 

As he got further away, Misha tapped his shoulder, somewhat confused. 

"That felt odd for some reason," he whispered, trying to understand what had happened. Still, there was nothing to be done about it, so he returned to his duties. 

Mark stepped through that entrance, only to find himself in the same situation as Stelle. He was falling from the sky, just like Stelle must have. The spot where she had crash-landed was visible as he got closer to the ground. Still, he didn't waste a moment, powering the Stellarons to prepare his body for the impact. With a strong movement of his lower body, he angled himself legs first, hands kept in the pockets of the coat, the lower part of it dangling against the air. 

"Just like this," he muttered as the people from below watched, surprised to see another one come in like that. Rather than falling in an embarrassing manner, he crashed legs first against the ground, increasing the size of the crater, but he stood up without issue. He glanced around at the people, who were watching in awe. 

With nonchalance, he took out his phone, noticing a few messages from Himeko and March. Both had been waiting for a while, and seeing as he bailed out, they simply left a message saying 'brace yourself for when we meet', which sent a cold shiver down his spine. It wasn't a good sign, that much was for sure. He sent a quick text saying 'Sorry, got busy with investigating stuff' which was a lie, considering that he had gone dancing. Well, it wasn't a full-on lie since both Acheron and Black Swan played a large role from what his mind's sharp pain could tell. 

Despite it being a dream world, he still felt the pain from his thoughts, meaning that it was something deeply tied to his existence as a whole, not just his body. As he stood there, trying to figure out where to head next, the feeling of something touching his shoulder spiked in him. He turned around but saw nothing. 

"Weird... must be the dissonance with the dream world or something. I'll get used to it." 

He focused for a few moments, trying to figure out where to go. His memories of the places Stelle was visiting with Firefly come to him. Thanks to the dance, he was late, meaning that he missed their first meeting. Still, he could follow them to Aideen Park. It's where his memories begin growing fuzzy. 

"Welp, off I go." 

He didn't waste too much time, so he simply dashed off, knowing the city quite decently. It was bustling with people, which was to be expected, so trying to find the two would prove difficult. Instead, Mark took out his phone and sent Stelle a message. To his surprise, she answered, directing him to the slot machines. 

"Of course she'd be gambling... why am I not surprised?" 

Mark went that way, asking the same guy Stelle had for tokens, which he got after showing the Dreamscape Pass. To the side, Stelle and Firefly were laughing together, giving the slots a few tries. The prizes were pretty nice, but they differed from the game. No monetary gains, but they did get sweets or other treats. 

"Heh, why am I not surprised that you're here gambling?" asked Mark as he snuck up on the two. Both turned to face him, startled. He chuckled, crossing his arms, and Stelle punched him lightly in the shoulder. 

"Don't do this again next time, alright? I might hit you with the bat." 

He chuckled, shaking his head. 

"Quick to smack me as usual," he sighed, turning to look at Firefly, who seemed a bit taken aback by Mark's appearance. His mind rattled and creaked, the sigh of the gentle girl before him causing the pain to increase. 

"Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Mark," he said politely, offering a tiny smile as he went for a handshake. She looked at his hand, giving it a gentle shake. 

"I'm Firefly, nice to meet you." 

Mark nodded, then turned to Stelle, who was failing to get any good prizes. 

"Mind if I have a go? I usually don't win either, so we can share in our suffering." 

Stelle, annoyed by her loss streak, moved aside, allowing Mark to take a seat. He looked at the screen as he introduced one of the tokens, staring at what the prizes were. Mostly sweets and the like, with the big prize being a ticket for a lot of free SoulGlad. 

Mark grabbed the handle, staring intently at the screen. He knew he'd never win, but the hope never died inside. It's the last thing to die out, no matter what you're faced with. It felt best in those moments when you knew the odds were stacked against you, but you still wished deep down for it to go your way. 

He pulled it, staring at the screen as the lines spun and spun, moving as if they didn't plan to slow down. Both Stelle and Firefly were watching, looking over his shoulders. One by one, the lines began to slow, and Mark closed his eyes, accepting his fate. 

"See? I knew I wouldn't win anything." 

The alarms went off, signaling that someone had won the big prize. Stelle and Firefly looked at him with wide eyes, and his confident grin faltered. 

"I fucking what now?" 

He looked to the screen, noticing that the big prize had somehow made its way to him. Free SoulGlad for a good while, enough to last him months. 

"What in the actual fuck?" 

He stood up, not believing his eyes. 

"That damned gambler must have put a curse on me. Heck, I don't like it. Don't waste my winning streak here. It's a bad sign. Stupid machine," he growled, sighing. 

"You won!" shouted Stelle, jumping with Firefly, who was also laughing and spinning with Stelle. The two were more joyous than Mark, who stared at the screen. The people were watching him, the crowd gathered, with the prize soon to come. He felt a sharp pain in the back, and he quickly turned around. Nothing, again. 

"What the hell? Just what? You're not supposed to feel PAIN in the Dreamscape..." 

As his prize was handed to him, Mark put on a brave face, smiling, but deep down he was confused, thinking that something was completely wrong.