Joceka didn't appear every night.
That frightened Haru more than his presence.
Sometimes Haru sat in his room, staring at the mirror, waiting.
Waiting for the voice.
Waiting for proof that he wasn't imagining everything.
But many nights passed in silence.
And during those nights…
The world felt strange.
At school, Haru sometimes heard whispers that didn't belong to anyone.
At home, his mother's words echoed longer than they should have.
"Why can't you be normal?"
The sentence repeated inside his head.
Again.
And again.
And again.
That was when Joceka returned.
"You're reaching your limit," Joceka said calmly.
Haru clenched his fists.
"I'm trying," he whispered.
"I know," Joceka replied.
"And that's exactly why this place exists."
The classroom walls flickered.
At first Haru thought he was dizzy.
But then the blackboard faded.
The desks disappeared.
The world bent.
And suddenly—
Haru stood somewhere else.
A city stretched before him.
Wide.
Empty.
Silent.
Every building looked abandoned.
Every street carried the weight of something forgotten.
"What is this?" Haru asked, his voice shaking.
Joceka stood beside him now.
Not a shadow anymore.
A presence.
"A place where pain doesn't follow you," Joceka said.
"A place where you can breathe."
Haru took a cautious step forward.
The ground felt real beneath his feet.
The city welcomed him.
No voices.
No comparisons.
No expectations.
Just space.
Freedom.
Haru exhaled slowly.
"I feel… lighter."
Joceka watched him quietly.
"That's because this world was built from everything you couldn't say."
Haru turned toward him.
"What do you mean?"
Joceka looked toward the distant buildings.
"Every step you take here…"
"is a step you were never allowed to take there."
Far away—
Something moved.
A large shape between the buildings.
Watching.
Waiting.
And for the first time…
Haru realized something terrifying.
This world wasn't just protecting him.
It was testing him.