Looking at the flaw,
Silias found no words.
It didn't surprise him.
It resonated—like a whisper from somewhere deep,
a truth he had always known but never named.
His numbness, the hollow quiet of his mind…
It was not armor.
It was the beacon.
A flaw carved into his soul long before the system ever spoke it aloud.
He accepted it with a slow breath.
Then looked down at his hands—battered, scarred, yet healed by the end of the nightmare.
Still… it felt like the wounds were meant to remain.
Not on flesh, but on memory.
He wrapped them in bandages anyway.
Tight. Neat. Like a ritual.
Then, without much ceremony,
he tied back his long, purplish-black hair into a rough ponytail,
the strands darker near the roots—faded, almost bruised at the ends.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
No dirt. No blood.
Cleaner, yes.
But not clean.
He dressed slowly, slipping into the plain grey tracksuit left for him. The material was rough, government-issued—but clean.
Then, without a word, he stepped out of the room.
The halls were sterile. Cold. Echoes of boots on linoleum passed in the distance.
He made his way down, toward the canteen.
And there… walking the same path ahead of him…
He saw him.
Sunless.
The one who didn't fall.
The one who stood in the dark… and made it kneel.
He walked casually, hands in his pockets, as if he hadn't shaken the bones of titans.
Silias followed, silent.
There was no reason to speak.
Not yet.
They entered the cafeteria.
Master Jet was already seated.
A tray before her. Two more set across the table—one for each of them.
She barely looked up, only briefly nodded as they approached.
Still, her presence felt… different.
It was strange, thinking of her as someone above him.
She was, technically.
But that wouldn't last.
Not if he wanted to change. Not if he wanted to claw out of the shadow he'd been born into.
Sunny didn't seem to notice him.
Or maybe he did—and chose silence.
They sat together without a word.
Two lives that had never touched, seated only a breath apart.
Jet raised her eyes.
"Help yourselves," she said simply.
The silence wavered.
They ate quietly.
Each bite tasted bland, but it was food. Warm. Filling.
Better than the horrors they had swallowed in the Dream.
Silias kept stealing glances.
Even seated, Sunny seemed… contained. Like a calm sea hiding a storm.
No power radiated from him—nothing dramatic. Just the uncomfortable sense that this was someone different.
Someone real.
He chewed slowly, thinking:
'This is that man. The guy.'
It was strange—on the surface, they looked the same.
Two sleepers. Same uniform. Same tray of food.
But Silias felt the divide like a cliff between them.
He didn't feel like an equal.
Meanwhile, Sunny was lost in his own head.
'Knowing my luck… now would be the right time to—'
A voice cut through the silence.
"What are you guys thinking about?"
Jet, her fork half-raised, was looking at them.
Calm. Amused.
He wasn't like this.
Definitely not.
From the stories, Silias had expected someone more… cunning.
Smart, sure. But spiteful. Treacherous, even.
Not this quiet, composed figure with a deadpan calm that didn't fit the image.
This aura was unheard of.
Silias felt the question hang in the air.
He wanted to reply.
But he knew—Sunny would have to speak first.
And so, he waited.
The response came, slow but deliberate.
"I was thinking that it would be a perfect moment for you to ask me about what I am thinking."
Sunny said, his voice casual, as if he wasn't fully here either.
Jet gave him a glance. Measured.
Not annoyed. Not impressed. Just… observing.
Silias took that as his cue.
"What's next?" he asked, simply.
Not really because he was curious.
Truthfully, he wanted to sleep.
His body ached in the kind of way that even rest wouldn't fix—but still, it was the closest thing to healing.
His voice might've sounded careless, but Jet read him too well.
She didn't need the words.
His posture, the slight way his shoulders slumped, the way his hands stayed wrapped in fresh bandages—they said enough.
Jet leaned back ever so slightly, setting her communicator aside as her voice adopted a more formal tone.
"Then I'll begin. As per protocol, I am obligated to inform you of a few things. It's mostly a formality."
She glanced between them with a soft sigh; something caught between professionalism and genuine concern.
"First of all, concerning your Nightmare..."
Her fingers tapped the table once before folding together.
"You're entitled to receive free psychological counseling. No matter what traumatic experience you've gone through, there is no shame in asking for help. Your mind is as important as your body — it's only right to keep it healthy."
She paused.
"Are you interested?"
Both Sunny and Silias shook their heads in near-perfect sync. A silent 'no'.
Jet shrugged with a faint smile.
"As you wish. You can also talk to me if you'd prefer. I'm… available. Was it very hard?"
Sunny hesitated for just a breath.
Then, his voice came low and even:
"It was simultaneously much worse than I expected… and exactly as bad as I expected."
Jet gave him a slow nod.
She didn't press further.
Then her gaze slid over to Silias.
He blinked slowly, searching for words.
Then, wearing a fake look of confusion—half for show, half out of genuine numbness—he replied:
"Short… and deathly.
Like being dragged breathless through a nightmare painted in rot and blood. I didn't even know if I was alive or not—
I just kept running, and running, and waiting to die.
And when I didn't… I still felt like I did."
Jet didn't say anything to that.
She and Sunny exchanged another few words—something about the outskirts.
Sunny said he'd grown up among rusted roofs and long shadows.
Jet mentioned how familiarity bred survival.
Silias listened quietly. He already knew most of this. Jet had always been known, even if only from a distance. Sunny? He was practically a legend in the making.
So, eventually, Silias simply leaned forward, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead lightly against folded arms on the table. A quiet moment stolen from the noise.
***
A few minutes later, Sunny broke the silence.
"So… what happens now? What else are you obligated to tell me?"
Hearing that, Silias opened one eye, then both. He straightened, rubbing his bandaged hands slightly as he came back to focus.
Jet clasped her hands again.
"That's basically it. There are a few more bureaucratic hoops—stuff involving families, guardianship, legal post-Nightmare declarations... but," she gave Sunny a small nod, "I've read your file. It doesn't apply."
She turned her gaze to both of them now. Her tone became a touch more serious.
"What's left is this: deciding how you'll prepare for your first official journey into the Dream Realm."
A beat passed.
"I must say… your luck is exceptionally bad. There's not a lot of time."
She leaned forward just a little, voice firm but not unkind.
"First of all: you're free to do what you want. No one is forcing you to take a specific path."
A small smile crept into her tone, almost mocking but not quite.
"That means you can train. Or not. You could spend the next few days preparing with your life on the line... or you can party until the lights go out."
Jet continued, her voice settling into that familiar authoritative rhythm:
"However, I would advise against that."
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"As a Sleeper, you are also entitled to enroll in the Awakened Academy."
She leaned back, folding her arms now.
"You'll be provided with food, lodging, and a wide selection of preparatory classes. This late into the year, you won't have time to learn a lot… but it's better than nothing."
There was a pause.
She let that hang in the air like a challenge—soft, but undeniable.
"So, what do you say? Do you want me to take you to the Academy?"
Sunny stayed quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed her words.
He didn't trust the government. But he trusted his instincts — and those told him this was the only logical path forward.
"…Fine. I'll enroll."
His voice was casual, but the acceptance beneath it was real.
Beside him, Silias had been silently pondering the same.
Food. Shelter. Training.
Not much to argue against, really. And if he wanted to change something — become someone — he couldn't stay still.
"…Same for me," he added simply, eyes flicking to Jet's with a bit more weight.
"I'll do it."
Jet gave a slight nod, satisfied.
"Good. I'll handle the paperwork. You'll be transferred by evening."
She stood up, plate now empty.
The PTV hummed smoothly along the elevated highway. The city unfolded beneath them, distant and indifferent. Sunlight streamed through the tinted windows, casting the interior in a soft golden hue.
Jet sat across from the two boys — composed, silent, and still. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were attentive, tracking every flicker of expression like someone who had survived too long to ever stop reading people.
Silias sat near the window, posture a little too still. Like someone unsure what his body was supposed to do when it wasn't fighting to survive. His long, purplish hair half-obscured his face, but his gaze remained fixed on the passing sky.
Sunny sat beside him, one knee bouncing restlessly. His fingers drummed a rhythm on his thigh — casual, but calculated. His eyes flicked toward Silias once.
"You're quiet," Sunny said. Not an accusation. Not quite concern either. Just a statement.
Silias turned his head slightly, not quite meeting his gaze. "…Am I supposed to say something?"
Sunny blinked. "I don't know. People usually do."
A pause.
"…I don't really know how," Silias admitted, his voice low but even. "Talking. It's… slow."
Sunny studied him for a second, then leaned back. "Huh."
No judgment. Just calculation.
"Well," he muttered, "at least you're honest."
Silias tilted his head. "You're not?"
Sunny smirked. "No. But I'm bad at lying."
"Strange combination."
"Yeah," Sunny said, looking out the opposite window. "Tends to ruin my plans."
Jet's eyes stayed on them, unreadable. She didn't speak. Didn't correct. Just listened.
Silias shifted, not out of discomfort — more like instinct. "You seem tense," he said suddenly.
Sunny stilled. "I'm not."
Silias turned his eyes away. "You are."
Sunny didn't respond. The tapping stopped.
Jet watched them both, something faintly thoughtful in her expression.
Two strange boys — one like a spark half-buried in ash, the other like a blade with a crack no one noticed until it sang.
She didn't say anything.
But she was thinking a great deal.
The shuttle doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Silias stepped out, boots touching the clean pavement with a kind of careful pause — as if the ground itself demanded permission. Sunny followed close behind, squinting slightly in the morning light.
Before them rose the gates.
Massive. Crimson. Impossibly tall.
Silias tilted his head up, lips parting just slightly. The gates gleamed in the sun, not painted red — but forged from some strange alloy that shimmered like coals in a dying fire.
They didn't look real.
But here they were.
The gates of the Awakened Academy.
"…It's bigger than I thought," Sunny muttered.
Silias said nothing at first. He just stared.
The walls were impossibly high, stretching far enough to blur at the horizon. Defensive turrets sat like quiet guardians along the battlements, and the faint hum of a suppression dome shimmered overhead like heat rising off stone.
This wasn't a school. It was a fortress.
But not grim.
No — there was life here. Noise. Voices carried over the walls. Laughter, even.
Beyond those gates lay a city within a city, filled with stories people dreamed of. A place spoken of in webtoons and movies — where rivalries ignited, friendships were forged, and romantic chaos ran wild.
Silias had never cared for those shows.
But now? Standing here?
Something about it felt… warm.
He glanced at Sunny. The other boy had his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes narrowed up at the turrets.
"Feel like we're about to walk into a dream," Silias murmured.
Sunny raised a brow. "If this is a dream, it's one that comes with daily combat drills and mandatory therapy."
Silias smiled.
He actually smiled.
"Better than bleeding in a mud pit, I guess."
Sunny snorted. "You say that now."
The two of them stood there a moment longer, letting the silence stretch. The wind was cool. The sunlight soft. The massive gates slowly began to open with a deep, resonant chime.
As the path unfolded before them, Silias felt something strange twist in his chest.
Not fear.
Hope.
He inhaled.
Silias felt… familiar. He stood beside Sunny like it was meant to be.
He didn't say much. Didn't need to. After all, he already knew Sunny — more than Sunny knew himself, really.
And somehow, with barely a handful of words shared between them, they both quietly decided:
Yeah. This was friendship.
Strange. But neither questioned it.
Silias was quietly ecstatic.
Not that he showed it — his face stayed blank, his eyes distant. But inside, somewhere between all the dust and ruin, something warm flickered.
He was standing next to "Lost from Light."
How could he not feel something?
Together, they stood before the towering red gates of the Academy.