Masahiro took out the photo he had set aside earlier—the one of himself with the deformed face, found in that strange dresser in the house—and thought back to that absurd episode, where everything around him, even his own arm, had distorted. It was the kind of thing he would normally have dismissed as a trick of the mind, but now, after everything he had been through, he could no longer be sure.
At that moment, he was lying on a couch, staring almost entranced at the photo, lost in his usual stream of thoughts. He was so worn out from everything that had happened that day that his energy was completely drained. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his arms slowly dropped to his sides as if pulled down by some invisible weight. Without even realizing it, Masahiro drifted into a deep sleep—so exhausted that not even the painful absurdities of the day could keep him awake.
He woke up shortly after, dazed. He looked around and noticed that the walls were gone. In fact, there was nothing at all—it seemed he wasn't even in the house anymore. He sat up halfway and realized that all around him was a vast vortex of black and red rings, spinning and engulfing everything in sight.
A sharp pain flared in his temples, like stabbing migraines that made it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. As he struggled to stay in control, he saw a familiar figure in the distance: it was Lisa, standing motionless.
"Lisa!" Masahiro shouted.
He got to his feet with great effort, as if gravity had doubled. Staggering, he started running toward the figure as best he could. As he ran, small blind spots—round and dark—began to blot out his vision. He panted from exertion; his body was reaching its limit.
He crashed into Lisa's figure—only for it to dissolve into a small heap of sand the moment he made contact. Masahiro dropped to his knees in front of the sand and scooped it up into his fists.
"N-no... Lisa..."
A voice drew his attention.
"The truth... discover... the... truth..."
Masahiro jerked his head toward the sound, straight ahead. A closet door had appeared out of nowhere, suspended in the void. The swirling vortex around him made him feel violently nauseous. He staggered toward the closet and opened the door.
"The... truth..." he heard the voice again.
Everything began to distort into a spiral, just like it had that day with the dresser.
His vision blurred, and the spiral sucked him in like a black hole.
Masahiro opened his eyes with a jolt.
It had all been just a nightmare.