Chapter 224 – Gideon's Dream
"No—!"
Henry jolted awake.
He found himself surrounded by classmates, all staring at him.
"So… it was just a dream…"
He let out a shaky breath.
"Henry, are you aware that sleeping in class violates school regulations?"
"S–sorr—"
He stopped halfway through his sentence.
Henry had intended to explain how exhausted he felt—but to his confusion, he realized he had no memory of yesterday at all.
He couldn't even remember the teacher's name.
"What's this? Planning to make up an excuse on the spot?"
"N–no, sir. I just… can't remember—"
"Heh. So now you've learned how to lie," the teacher chuckled.
"But tell me—why did you betray your companions back then?"
Henry froze.
He looked up.
Standing at the podium was one of his former companions.
A leather glove embedded with blades covered the man's hand—but his face had long since rotted away.
At the same time, the classroom lights dimmed.
Henry stiffly turned his head.
Beds.
Rows of beds surrounded him.
Children lay upon them—some were familiar faces, his old companions among them.
Every single one of them was naked.
Bruises marred their bodies.
Then the bladed glove rested on Henry's shoulder.
"Hehehe… young flesh, beautiful screams, the suffocating pain of despair…"
The voice whispered close to his ear.
"You truly were a loyal companion."
"No… no…!"
Henry clutched his head in agony.
"Didn't you say you'd beat me senseless?"
"Go on—push me into the abyss, just like you did to them!"
Henry's arm lifted against his will.
At some point, the bladed glove had been fitted onto his own hand.
Slash.
The sound of steel tearing through flesh rang out.
Henry tore open his companion's chest.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, splattering across his face.
In mere moments, he was drenched—transformed into a figure of crimson.
"AAAAH—!"
Gideon snapped awake.
He was staring at the front row of desks.
Several students were looking in that direction, whispering among themselves.
From the fragments of conversation, Gideon quickly understood what had happened.
"So Henry had a nightmare too…" he thought.
Ring—ring—
The class bell rang.
Gideon glanced to his side.
Gale was scanning the room anxiously, her face pale with lingering fear.
"Are you… okay?" he asked.
She flinched violently and took several steps back.
"I—I'm fine. I'm leaving. I'm not going to the library today."
She lowered her head and hurried out of the classroom.
Gideon shrugged and began packing his bag.
As he passed the front row, he overheard Pence and Henry talking.
"You… you said we'd go find Principal Roberto…"
"Sorry… I'm not feeling well today. Can we go tomorrow?"
Pence froze—clearly unaccustomed to Henry speaking so politely.
Gideon paid them no further attention.
He felt exhausted.
It was as if he had dreamed multiple times during class.
He even suspected that he might suddenly fall asleep while walking.
"Hah… I swear, I never want to stay up late again."
Shaking his head, he just wanted to go home and sleep.
He grabbed the door handle and pushed it open—
Then froze.
"…Where am I?"
Gideon surveyed his surroundings.
A slightly messy desk.
Comic posters plastered on the walls.
Used tissues by the bedside.
Wait.
Bed?
He looked down.
He was sitting on a bed.
"So… I just woke up?"
Confusion deepened in his eyes.
He clearly remembered leaving the classroom, planning to go home.
"So… did I just wake up? Or did I lose the memory of going home entirely?"
He turned his head—
And his pupils shrank.
Behind the headboard was not a wall.
It was a large, dark house.
Withered weeds.
Crumbling walls.
Its silhouette loomed ominously in the night, radiating danger.
His bed… seemed to be placed directly in the front yard of the house.
But that wasn't all.
"Hey… hey…"
A swing creaked gently.
A little boy sat on it.
Three little girls were nearby.
Two were playing hopscotch.
The last rode a small four-wheeled toy car.
At the same time, a childish rhyme echoed in Gideon's ears:
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you.
Three, four, better lock your door.
Five, six, grab your crucifix.
Seven, eight, gonna stay up late.
Nine, ten, never sleep again."
If one focused only on the melody, the rhyme was almost pleasant.
But paired with the dissonant intervals—and this profoundly wrong scene before him—
Gideon instantly sensed danger.
"A ruined house behind the bed… kids throwing a midnight dance party out here…"
He couldn't help but think,
"Isn't a bed supposed to be humanity's final safe haven?!"
For some reason, that sentence surfaced in his mind.
Just then, the girl riding the little bicycle looked up.
"I want to go inside and take a look. Want to come with me?"
Her voice was sweet and gentle. Combined with her white dress, it stirred an instinctive urge to protect her.
Gideon glanced past her.
Behind her was the entrance to the large house—an abyss of pitch-black darkness.
"Uh… that doesn't sound like a good idea," he said awkwardly, shaking his head.
"By the way, are you kids from around here? How did you even sneak out this late at night?"
The other children didn't answer.
Only the girl on the bicycle spoke again.
"If you're not coming, then I'll go in by myself!"
She turned the handlebars and slowly rode toward the entrance—like a lamb walking willingly into a wolf's den.
Any normal adult would have rushed forward to stop her.
Gideon, however, looked thoroughly unwilling.
Almost instinctively, he traced a cross over his chest.
"May the Lord protect you. I'll be heading out."
With that, he got off the bed and walked in the opposite direction—away from the house.
There was a bedroom door there.
He had no idea where it led, but compared to that obviously cursed house, this option felt far safer.
Bang.
Not long after the door shut, the girl on the bicycle reappeared at the entrance.
Her face was dark, her gaze fixed in the direction Gideon had left.
The other three children wore the same expression.
---
Beyond the door.
Gideon rubbed his chin.
The world before him had transformed into a nighttime street.
Uneven brick pavement stretched ahead, rising and falling. Pale white mist drifted in the distance.
Then—
A shrill scraping sound rang out, metal dragging against a wall.
At the far end of the street stood a tall, gaunt figure.
A round-brimmed hat.
A familiar leather glove.
"Hehehe."
The figure laughed darkly, raised a hand—and sliced off one of its own fingers.
Green liquid sprayed from the severed stump.
The laughter grew louder.
Then abruptly stopped.
"Hey, sir," Gideon said calmly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"You look pretty capable. Four kids were about to wander into a dangerous house—maybe you could protect them."
The figure froze.
A low, heavy voice echoed near Gideon's ear.
"You… aren't afraid of me?"
Gideon turned his head.
An ugly, twisted face filled his vision.
"You certainly… have a very unique look."
He tried his best to find something complimentary.
After all, the other party was armed. Mocking someone without a countermeasure was rarely wise.
Unfortunately, he failed to find anything salvageable.
So he settled on diplomacy.
"But you know—this world is vast. Everyone has the right to exist."
The figure fell silent.
Just as Gideon was about to continue, the scenery shifted again.
He looked around.
This place resembled a church.
"Hey! Look at this—he actually followed us here!"
"A backwater priest thinks he belongs in a parish? You should really take a look in the mirror!"
"Oh hell—someone throw this guy out! That low-class stench is suffocating!"
Several clergy stood before him, pointing and jeering.
Their faces were all familiar.
Gale.
Pence.
Henry.
Lombard.
The same people he had seen in the classroom not long ago.
Then the figure in the red-and-green striped sweater appeared again.
"See? This is who they really are!" Freddy sneered, licking the blades.
"They never once saw you as a companion."
"And now—I'll give you a choice!"
"You may let one person live."
"I'll kill the rest."
"And the survivor must be the one you hate the most!"
Gideon narrowed his eyes.
He remembered the classroom clearly—and knew these people were not clergy at all.
"So… I'm a priest?" he thought.
At the same time, something deep within his consciousness stirred.
The sensation was faint—too elusive to grasp.
"Let me think about it."
He spoke aloud to stall, then genuinely stood there pondering.
"This guy's behavior makes no sense. What happened in the classroom doesn't logically connect to this…"
"I kept dreaming back there… so that means—"
Realization dawned.
A moment later, he looked up.
"I choose the woman."
Freddy grinned viciously.
"Hehehe… so you still submit to desire in the end."
The claws struck toward the other three—
Then Freddy froze.
The blades didn't pierce flesh.
They cut into something forcibly molded into a human shape—
A mass of shit.
As its structure collapsed, yellow-black filth splattered all over Freddy's face.
"Sorry," Gideon shrugged.
"Time was tight. Couldn't think of anything more refined."
Three figures now stood beside him—Henry and the others he had just summoned.
Including Gale, everyone had regained consciousness.
"W–what's going on?" someone asked.
"Weren't we in the classroom?"
Gideon shook his head.
"I don't know the cause, but we seem to be inside a dream right now."
He didn't rush to explain further, giving them time to process.
"Then… what are you doing?" Gale asked, staring into the distance.
"Oh, this?"
Gideon said, mounting a second humanoid made entirely of excrement.
"I'm trying to kill this guy with bodily waste."
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