Quan raised his eyes to look at the pitch-black sky.
He caught a fleeting glimpse of fireflies filling the sky, guiding his path with their minuscule light. Looking around, Quan realized he was standing on a desolate, remote meadow. He was walking along a gravel-and-stone road that resembled a faded trail marked heavily by the passage of time.
Quan remained silent, treading softly, taking long strides through the knee-high weeds. He scratched his neck; to his horror, tiny worms were wriggling out from his raw flesh.
Quan paid it no mind. He stood before a stone tombstone, fronted by an incense burner packed with thousands of joss sticks, one of which was still billowing thick smoke.
Closing his eyes, Quan sighed and looked around. There, thousands, millions of pieces of paper swirled around him, rapidly twisting themselves around the blades of grass, turning the wild field entirely monochrome.
On every single blade of weed, bold letters stood out: Psychological Evaluation, Personality Classification.
…
"Ha~~~"
GASP, GASP~
Quan lunged into a damp, pitch-black room at the end of the hotel corridor. He unlocked the door and burst inside, deadbolting it behind him before scanning the interior. It was a luxurious, elegant room, illuminated brilliantly by a chandelier suspended from the ceiling. The space was exceptionally spacious and cozy, resembling a lavish presidential suite.
But Quan was different. He stared at it, then shifted his gaze downward to the kaleidoscope carpet beneath his feet, which was covering thousands of small beans.
No, the tiny beans were moving. It was something else entirely.
Quan froze. His hand fumbled for the lock, frantically trying to open it, only to realize that the door mechanism was completely jammed.
Driven by instinct, Quan tried to find a place to hide, but before he could even take two steps, he tripped and tumbled awkwardly onto the floor. Watching the dark shadows rise from the carpet and wrap around his legs by the second, he didn't seem terrified—just gripped by a sense of urgent anxiety.
He stared at his feet, which were now completely enveloped in blackness, silently reciting two lines that had been deeply engraved into his subconscious...
However, not a single word could escape his lips. The moment he opened his mouth, a swarm of insect wings spewed out—pitch-black, thin as paper silk, stacking endlessly layer upon layer. Yet, Quan's eyes remained dead silent, untroubled by fear, as if even this horror amounted to nothing.
Quan curled his body inward, slowly dragging himself toward the luxurious bed in the distance. Gradually, he could no longer crawl. The insect wings piled up, completely masking his face, robbing him of both breath and sight. His entire body was bound by a shadow creeping out from beneath the carpet, leaving him in an inescapable, agonizing itch.
Everything felt like a tidal wave of darkness, pulling Quan deep into blindness.
Until... a certain voice called him back to reality.
"Are you awake, Quan? How do you feel?"
That hoarse voice sounded incredibly foreign to this world, yet it was uncannily familiar to Quan.
"...? Ron?"
Quan opened his eyes, tears blurring his vision. He caught a vague glimpse of three blurry figures standing around him. Among them, a dark silhouette with golden eyes approached. Soon, Quan felt a strange, mystical force pressing down on his arm. A numbing sensation instantly crept into his brain, making him grimace.
Other words seemed to go on whispering into his ears after that, but he couldn't make out any of them. They felt just like worms crawling through his ear canals—wriggling and slimy.
Instead of trying to comprehend the unintelligible murmurs, Quan grabbed Ron's sleeve, straining his muscles to pull Ron closer, but his sluggish, rigid body refused to obey. Left in utter despair, he felt an invisible wave surging forward to crush his heart and soul, plunging him deeper into the comatose abyss.
"Listen to me, you bastard..."
Quan wheezed out to Ron, squeezing out his final words as darkness gradually swallowed his eyes.
"...Ron... Ron is an idiot... Assimilation..."
Having spoken, his eyes rolled back as his vision faded entirely. Drool streamed from his mouth as he plunged straight into the abyss.