Chapter 1
# The Dreamer
## Chapter 1: Return from the Mist— A Stranger’s Cry for Help
Alex West stepped onto home soil—and gasped like he’d been slapped.
The air? Disinfectant and roses. Like someone had duct-taped a hospital to a funeral home and left it out in the sun.
He carried nothing but a frayed wool bracelet， coiled tight around his wrist. The stitches were crooked—badly done by a ten-year-old who’d cried through half of them.*R + A forever.* Renie’s name. His sister. Dead three years now.
Three years since they buried her at the charity gala while Mom wore an ivory gown that cost more than Alex’s entire college tuition. And played the video—Renie， pale as parchment on a bed， whispering:
*“Thank you， Mom… for letting me see the light—in my dreams.”*
The whole room wept.
Nobody knew what was hidden under those frayed threads.
He’d pried it open this morning with his thumbnail. Inside—the laser etching:
**Nexus-7 Batch #0189**
Production date:*three days ago.*
Renie was supposed to be dead for three years.
So why did the bracelet say she wasn’t?
He didn’t go back to the old house. Too many ghosts， too many cameras. Instead， he rented a basement in the city’s rotting edge—previous tenant? A junkie with a flair for horror art. Red lipstick smeared grins across the walls. Scrawls in shaky capitals:
*“They made you forget her.”*
He plugged in a black-market Ghost Decoder—jerry-rigged， buzzing like a wasp trapped in a tin can—and typed three words:
>**Renie West | Death Certificate | Surveillance Footage**
Three seconds.
Red alert flashed:
【FILE ENCRYPTED & LOGICALLY ALTERED】
Alex didn’t flinch. He smiled.
Because he wasn’t looking for the truth anymore.
He was hunting the *lie*—and he’d already found its heartbeat.
Buried in the corrupted fragments: Renie’s official time of death—March 17， 2021， 2:47 a.m.
But the security feed? At 2:39 a.m.， she sat up. Sipped water. Waved at the camera with that stupid， heart-shaped hand gesture she always did when she was trying to be cute.
Eight minutes gone. Vanished. Like they’d been chewed up and spit out.
“No one’s deleting footage，” he muttered.“Someone’s *rewriting* it.”
He dug into the Foundation’s old IT logs. Found Marcus Holt—former Chief Systems Engineer. Resigned three years ago after a“sudden cerebral hemorrhage.” Disappeared clean.
No social media. No trail.
But Google Images? A grainy shot from March 16， 2021: a man in a trench coat smoking behind the hospital. Behind him—a rusted gate to an abandoned parking lot.
Taped to it: a yellowed slip of paper.
>*“If you see this—go to Basement B7. Find the Red Bear.”*
Alex’s heart stopped.
The Red Bear.
He’d saved every penny from mowing lawns for six months to buy her that stupid， cheap thing for her tenth birthday. She slept with it until a month before she died.
Then Mom said:*“Burned it. Too dirty.”*
Liar.
At 1:17 a.m.， he broke into Basement B7—abandoned wing of the Foundation’s old storage block. No cameras. No network. Just dust thick enough to choke on.
Rows of toys. Sealed in plastic like museum exhibits of dead childhoods.
Teddy bears. Broken Transformers. Barbies with their heads twisted backward.
His flashlight hit the corner—and froze.
There it was.
The Red Bear.
One eye half-pulled loose. Stitches jagged， uneven—like a child had sewn it after crying for hours.
He reached out—
His fingers brushed something hard behind its ear.
A micro-SD card.
And taped to it—in Renie’s handwriting， the *y* curled like a question mark:
>*“They didn’t kill her. Mom locked her inside the Dream Corridor. Don’t trust anyone in white coats—not even the head nurse.”*
Alex’s palms went slick.
The Dream Corridor.
A billion-dollar neuro-rehab center. Officially? A sanctuary for trauma and depression patients.
Officially， Elin was its noble chairwoman.
On CNN:*“We don’t cure people… we awaken their sleeping souls.”*
He remembered the voice message now—the one he’d deleted as delirium.
*“Alex… I hear Mom crying. But she’s smiling. She says‘you’ll love me forever’… as she pours clear liquid into my cup…”*
She didn’t hallucinate.
She warned him.
And now? The SD card was tucked into his coat.
His phone buzzed.
Anonymous text:
>*“Your mother’s waiting for you， Alex. She knows you’re back.”*
He spun—
The lights exploded.
White. Blinding.
Footsteps.
Not one.
Four.
Precise. Synced. Like soldiers marching in time with a dead man’s heartbeat.
He didn’t turn.
Slowly， he slid his phone into his sleeve—and hit record.
“Alex West，” came a voice—smooth as silk， sweet as poison.*“You should thank us… you’re still alive.”*
He turned.
Three men in black suits at the doorway. The leader wore wire-rimmed glasses. Held a briefcase. Chest pin:
**NEXUS FOUNDATION | MIND OVER MATTER**
Daniel Cole.
Elin’s assistant.
The man who’d wept so hard at Renie’s funeral， he had to be led out by two nurses.
Now—he smiled.
Like a hunter watching a rabbit jump into the trap.
“You took something you shouldn’t have，” Daniel said， opening his case.“That card… do you know what it does?”
He pulled out a small player. Pressed play.
Static—
Then Renie’s voice—clear as if she were whispering right beside him:
*“They injected me with‘Oracle Water.’ Not treatment… control. Every night I wake up—and see another version of myself in the mirror. She says:‘Don’t trust your mother. She’s your real experiment.’”*
Daniel shut it off.
“That recording was supposed to be erased three years ago.” He tilted his head.“But a fool—Head Nurse Emily—took a backup.”
Alex swallowed.“Did you kill her?”
“No，” Daniel said， nodding sideways.
The third man stepped forward.
Removed his sunglasses.
Emily Chen.
Renie’s nurse.
But her eyes? Hollow. Dead. Like windows boarded up from the inside.
A thick， dark scar circled her right wrist—burned deep. Electric shocks. Repeated.
She didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
Not a person anymore.
Just…*a conscious puppet.*
Daniel leaned in. Breath cold against Alex’s ear:
“You think you’re searching for your sister?”
He paused.
“*You’re looking for evidence.* But we knew you’d come back.”
Alex didn’t move.
His hand slipped into his coat pocket—fingers brushing paper.
He’d stolen it from Elin’s desk drawer six hours before Renie“died.” Her handwriting， frantic:
>*“If you’re reading this… I’ve broken. Don’t trust anyone who benefits from Dream Essence… especially yourself.”*
Daniel raised a hand—pointed to a steel door at the far end.
New label taped to it:
**【NEXUS-7 SUBJECT #0189】｜STATUS: DEEP IMMERSION**
Alex’s pupils shrank.
He lunged—
***CRASH!***
The wall *exploded.*
Bricks. Wires. Concrete—flying like shrapnel.
Through the dust—a small figure tumbled in.
Bleeding.
Trembling.
Nurse uniform. Face slashed—three deep gashes on her left cheek.
She lifted her head.
Eyes: black. No pupils.
“Alex…” Her voice cracked.“Your sister… she’s crying.”
She shoved a phone into his hands.
The screen glowed with live video.
Elin， kneeling.
Wrist-chained to steel bolts.
Nails digging into concrete.
Screaming—raw， broken—
*“Don’t let him see that room! That’s your child! Your own flesh and blood! Don’t you remember?!”*
Alex stared at the phone’s back.
Stuck there—a yellowed birth certificate.
Newborn ankle: a crescent-shaped birthmark.
Identical to his own.
Daniel laughed.
Soft. Chilly.
He raised his briefcase.
Inside—not an SD card.
A syringe.
Sapphire blue.
The fluid inside swirled… like it was breathing.
“That’s… Dream Essence?” Alex whispered.
Daniel shook his head.
“No.” He pressed the needle to Alex’s neck.“This is *Retrospect.*”
He smiled—too sweet， too wrong.
“It’ll show you how you were born.”
His breath hitched against Alex’s skin:
“Then… you’ll beg us to turn you into her.”
Alex’s knees trembled.
The phone auto-played another clip.
Renie strapped to a table. Tubes everywhere.
Pale as bone. Eyes wide open.
Staring straight at the camera.
Lips trembling:
*“Alex… don’t trust anyone. You’re not here for me…”*
A pause.
Then， quieter:
*“You’re here… to die in my place.”*
The screen went dark.
Silence.
Daniel raised the syringe again—
***Snap.***
Alex’s hand shot out—grasped Daniel’s wrist with a grip like iron.
His eyes opened.
Deep inside—the pupils pulsed. Slowly. Sapphire blue.
His voice came out low. Gravel dragged through rusted pipes:
“You know what? I’ve waited for this… three years.”
Daniel paled.“You—you *how*—?”
Alex wrenched the arm.
The syringe flew into the air.
He ripped open his shirt.
Center of his chest—a blue hexagram. Tattooed. Old.
Identical to the one on the original Dream Essence sample.
“You’re… Subject Zero?” Daniel stammered， stumbling back.
Alex smiled.
Gentle. Heartbreaking.
His fingers pressed over his heart—
Beneath them， the SD card burned warm.
“No，” he said.
“I’m her backup.”
Behind him—
***BOOM!***
The steel door shattered.
Smoke parted.
A woman stepped in.
White lab coat. Long hair like silver waterfalls. Face—icy beautiful.
Elin.
In her hand—a syringe.
Identical to Daniel’s.
Blue fluid danced inside like living ink.
She looked at Alex.
Whispered:
“Darling… you finally remember how you were born?”
Her gaze dropped to his hexagram.
Then slowly—
She raised the needle.
Aimed it at *her own* neck.
“You think you’re saving your sister?” Her smile—the one he’d loved since childhood—curved like a knife.
Now—it carved right through him.
“You… are the lie they created.”
The needle pierced her skin.
In Alex’s pocket—
The birth certificate burst into flame.
Ashes rose.
Then formed letters， glowing blood-red:
>*“If you’re reading this，‘she’ has awakened.”*
>*“And you… will become her soon.”*
Deep in the basement， behind a door labeled:
**【SUBJECT #0189】**
A woman slowly opened her eyes.
Her face—exactly like Renie’s.
But when she smiled?
It was Elin’s smile.
She turned to the surveillance camera—
And pressed a single finger to her lips.
Then wrote on paper， slow and clear:
>*“Brother… don’t trust Mom. Trust me.”*
>*“Because you’re not human at all.”*
