Just as we'd planned, we packed our bags and were driven to the airport by a friendly and talkative woman.

  On the plane, I allowed myself exactly one hundred and eighty seconds of hesitation before swallowing a melatonin tablet at the last moment, telling Rafe to wake me up when we landed.

  High above, where oxygen was thin, the threats from Nowhere were reduced to their weakest. If that dream really was as dangerous as it seemed, this might actually be the safest place on earth.

  In the pitch-black dream, I couldn’t feel my own shape; perception had become meaningless. Tuesday was the only splash of color in that world, bright and dazzling as she held me in her embrace.

  “You’re here! It’s so good to see you. I know you have many questions, and I have most of the answers. Let’s start from your previous dream,” Tuesday said, sitting on the ground, her crimson dress flowing gently through the darkness. "Oh, that was the skeleton of Nowhere—or perhaps its flesh? Anyway, what you saw was the internal organs that leak out when the system is operational. You’ve always preferred to understand the world through words, haven't you? Because of your Skill, that's how it appeared to you—like words."

  “But those were people,” I said, feeling increasingly sick as the memory became clearer.

  “Because Hoffman’s Skill and I reside within you,” Tuesday placed her warm hand over mine, easing my pain. “These are all parts of you, things you can understand.”

  Then what about Ainsworth? Was my anxiety toward Ainsworth already severe enough that they had become "part of my life"?

  “Think carefully—what’s the most complicated thing you've done with Goodman's Skill?” Tuesday acted like my most dedicated professor, patiently guiding me until I arrived at the answer myself.

  “That would be something I still don't know the results of—familiarizing myself with Hailey’s body, seeking out the people closest to her. I didn't even know exactly what ‘close’ meant, nor who these people actually were.”

  And Tuesday was the one who materialized words—indeed, a significant part of my life, fitting neatly into Tuesday’s theory.

  Tuesday nodded matter-of-factly: “I don't know either, but you are understanding Nowhere in your own unique way. This particular part just happens to describe the relationship between Nowhere and the real world.”

  “But it feels like more than understanding. If I had the right materials, I could reconstruct that thing and open a door to Nowhere,” I said uneasily. “If the Residents discovered this, what would they want me to use it for?”

  Maybe to send in materials to create currency, or even let Residents out for a vacation...

  “So don’t let anyone else know about it. I must also keep this secret from other Residents,” Tuesday gently tapped my head with her finger, “including Rafe and that dog.”

  “No problem—his name is Otto.”

  Finally, I could see my own hands and feet clearly: rough facial fibers, no fingers or toes, exactly like the limbs of a cloth doll. So this was how Tuesday had always viewed me? I didn't even know the nature of the environment Tuesday inhabited now.

  “All right, but is Otto your dog?”

  “Don’t talk about irrelevant things.” I stood up, knocking Tuesday’s hand off my head, feeling annoyed that I couldn't even flip her off with this body. “But there must be plenty of people who can understand something that has always existed inside sacred relics. One more wouldn’t make any difference.”

  “Everyone can access the papers on the Langlands Program, but how many can actually understand them?” Tuesday chuckled softly, her voice rippling gently through the space.

  “Fair enough. There’s still one more thing I need to know.” Dark green outlines appeared behind Tuesday, and I felt my body grow heavier. My instincts told me this wasn't good, that I should leave immediately, but I had one last question.

  “As long as I know the answer,” Tuesday cradled me gently in her palm. Somehow, I felt a little better.

  “How much time do I have before my Hollowing begins? And what happens afterward?”

  Tuesday hesitated slightly, but without any sign of discomfort, began explaining everything—from the relationship between Hunters and Residents onward—in meticulous detail.

  A crimson top spun slowly before my eyes, droplets like blood scattering outward with each rotation.

  “This is how the Path system exists within a Hunter's body. With continued use…”

  The top spun faster, droplets of varying sizes flinging outward like rain from a spinning umbrella. But unlike an umbrella, the top gradually shrank as more droplets flew away, until only a rapidly spinning core remained.

  “As time passes—through using the Path, Skills, the influence of Collections, even just spending time in Nowhere or interacting with other Hunters—the process accelerates. Eventually, Hunters become Residents.”

  The spinning droplets formed smaller vortices, swirling faster and further from the center. This was how one Hunter became multiple Residents—the most common outcome.

  The droplets gradually slowed, drifting downward, finally disappearing from my vision below.

  “If that’s how Hunters turn into Residents, can Residents become Hunters?” I gestured toward the darkness beneath. “What comes after being a Resident?”

  “They become part of Nowhere. Perhaps, if Residents die with enough clarity, they might become Collections—but no one can be certain.” Tuesday turned suddenly, as though hearing something off to my right. “You can make us spin faster, and I can slow it down—we can achieve balance. That’s our secret, our greatest advantage in both worlds.”

  “If you really want to help me, use your Skill more often. It isn't safe here—you need to leave now.” Tuesday’s hand grew larger in my vision until it obscured the dark green background and Tuesday herself.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Pure, horrifying darkness and silence enveloped me. I never knew eyelid muscles could ache from straining so hard. After more than ten attempts, I finally saw the airplane cabin lights again—I’d never appreciated their beauty before.

  “You okay? I didn't wake you,” Rafe said, apparently knowing nothing about how grumpy I was upon waking, placing Otto into my arms.

  Petting Otto always made both of us happier. Besides—assuming Tuesday hadn't lied—I wasn't about to die soon. Undoubtedly good news, provided neither of us were killed by some absurd enemy first.

  This time, Rafe himself drove us home from the airport in a car I'd never seen before. Seeing familiar buildings, and returning "home," gave me the courage and motivation to ask, "By the way, is there another way to travel besides the Path?"

  Rafe didn't seem surprised by my question. "If you don't mind it being a one-way ticket, there certainly is—and there are plenty of Collections like that. Because Roman... well, Ainsworth, is notoriously fond of studying how people without Path access can enter and leave Nowhere alive."

  "So there’s a well-developed method, but it doesn't guarantee survival?"

  Rafe sent me a file while we waited at a red light. It depicted a red transit card named "Opel," which could be recognized by the card readers on any public transportation. It would instantly send the entire vehicle and everyone inside straight to the most dangerous part of Nowhere. Numerous Residents would always be waiting at Opel's destination, making survival about as hopeful as a free fall from ten thousand meters—even for experienced Hunters.

  Sure, "what exists must be reasonable," but this thing was far too troublesome—yes, it could completely erase people from this world, but the person swiping the card would die as well. If it fell into the hands of an unaware person, I couldn't even imagine what kind of chaos would happen during rush hour, if an entire train suddenly vanished, passengers and all, and what kind of impact that would have on the city.

  So, not only was this thing worthless on the market, the Hunters who brought it back had to seal it carefully. If it were found to be circulating outside, the clade in control of that area would be in huge trouble: either they had to throw this calamity back into Nowhere, or yield territory so a more capable clade could handle it.

  "So, a clade isn't just exploiting Hunters. Maintaining a clade is complicated," said Rafe, opening a can of ice cream as he squeezed onto the couch between me and Otto—who promptly climbed over Rafe and returned to my lap.

  "More and more people are accidentally opening Paths nowadays...shit, I don’t even want to call them Hunters. These idiots die in Nowhere, turning into Residents and making life difficult for us. And if they survive, they start thinking they're the chosen ones, recklessly using their Skills, leaving messes behind no matter where they finally drop dead. Ainsworth's spending on this problem has increased by at least thirty percent annually over the past three years, and starting this year, Hunters have even begun to disappear."

  Rafe was clearly distressed on behalf of anyone bearing the name "Ainsworth," his fingers denting the ice cream can with a loud crunching noise.

  "That's only because you find it troublesome," I countered. "I think it's a natural trend, and humanity will die out as part of that trend. So many species have gradually vanished from this planet—humans could easily become one of them."

  I scooped up a large spoonful of strawberry ice cream and stuffed it into Otto’s mouth before his drool could drip onto me. Made from coconut milk and strawberry puree, this pet snack was completely safe for humans too, sweet and tangy—just how I liked it.

  Rafe refused to eat the ice cream and started complaining again that everything I bought was for the dog. I replied that Otto didn't have money, nor could he buy things himself; when Rafe became equally incapable, I'd happily buy him ice cream during shopping trips, too.

  It wasn't that I was stingy—I just couldn't see any point in doing otherwise. I couldn't understand why he insisted that I buy him something anyone could get at any time. I didn't know why he passed the convenience store at least twice daily but never bought the ice cream he liked, instead drinking that awful-tasting barley juice and complaining whenever Otto enjoyed his ice cream, as if tasting something nice would cause a Resident to crawl out of him.

  "You irrational asshole," Rafe snapped, shoving the ice cream and spoon into my hands before storming out and slamming the door.

  How absurd. I would never become upset over something this ridiculous; it wasn’t even worth my mental energy. After all, I couldn't—and didn’t want to—understand every thought everyone in the world might have, right?

  Yet Rafe returned shortly afterward, placing a rather heavy briefcase beside me. After ensuring I was watching, Rafe entered the passcode—48576—and opened the case, letting me squint at the sunlight reflecting off the dazzling gold inside.

  "This is the reserve fund you can access as a team leader. Ainsworth isn’t as stingy as you seem to think."

  I picked up one of the heavy gold plates, shaped like a bank card, feeling its substantial weight without any hint of happiness.

  How many Hunters had "voluntarily" given their lives in exchange for these resources? How many more had been "involuntarily" ground to dust beneath the vast wheels of this system?

  No, Hunters didn’t leave corpses behind; only Residents, filled with evil and chaos.

  But I wouldn't abandon the benefits I had won over a bit of moral discomfort. On the contrary—using time I could have wasted contemplating insignificant matters—I’d already come up with a far better use for all this.