Night had fallen into the quiet hours when Suzume once again tumbled into a peculiar dream. Only the evening before, she’d finished talking with Kakashi about the “Doctor” portrayed in that mysteriously updated page—yet without any definitive leads, she drifted off to sleep. Now, in the hush of slumber, she found herself witnessing the very figure she’d seen depicted on the page, alive and active in some half-lit domain.

  She becomes aware in a vague laboratory-like space, its boundaries veiled by a thin, drifting haze. Desks, scattered papers, and strange metallic instruments float in her field of view, though walls or ceilings are nowhere visible. Suzume, motionless and voiceless, realizes she’s stuck in the role of a mere observer—unable to speak, unable to move, as if watching a scene in a hidden recording.

  Before her stands a slight man in a rumpled white coat, disheveled white hair poking out beneath a pair of goggles perched haphazardly on his head. Everything about him—the unkempt clothing, the tired posture—matches precisely the “Doctor” she’d seen in the spin-off book’s newly sharpened illustration. Yet here, in the dream, he’s a living presence, quietly tending to an array of books and odd devices spread across a table.

  He appears calm, not frantic. Indeed, as he picks up various items and scribbles, the Doctor quietly addresses someone beyond Suzume’s line of sight. His gaze tilts upward, directed into the drifting fog, as if there’s another figure standing tall there—unseen.

  “…I do find your theory compelling, Sage,” the Doctor says in a measured tone. “I’m not dismissing it outright. Still, can it really succeed without precedent? I worry about how much we stand to lose if something goes wrong…”

  His voice is courteous, bearing traces of hesitation. Whoever this “Sage” might be, the Doctor obviously respects them, but a certain cautious logic underpins every word. He lightly smooths a battered sheaf of notes, then glances again at the intangible presence in the haze, nodding at some silent response Suzume can’t hear.

  “All right. If you insist, I’ll lend what assistance I can. Your fresh perspective may indeed accomplish what conventional knowledge never could. But please, don’t rush… We hardly have any examples. ‘Another world…’ is just such a massive undertaking. I cannot help feeling anxious…”

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  He exhales, almost apologetic, while his free hand fiddles with what looks like a measuring device on the table. Despite the rational tone, his posture reveals a faint tremor—like a scientist uncertain about the leaps he’s making. Every so often, he utters a soft “Yes, I understand,” presumably answering the Sage’s unheard remarks, but Suzume has no way to glean the specifics of that conversation.

  A swirl of fog intensifies, drifting closer, and the Doctor glances over as though to check some instrument’s display. Suzume catches a fleeting sense that the invisible Sage might be younger than the Doctor—a “new knowledge,” a “fresh approach,” he’s said. Then again, she has no real evidence beyond these hints in the Doctor’s respectful yet wary speech.

  “If we could truly open that path… I won’t say no. Yet, if something unforeseen happens, Sage, you must be mindful. I—”

  He falls silent as the ambient glow darkens behind thickening tendrils of mist. Suzume tries to see who he’s speaking to, but the dream promptly swallows everything in hazy white. The Doctor’s final words hang incomplete, the scene cutting out as if an unseen hand switched off the recording.

  Suzume snaps awake, heart thumping in the early gray of morning. Sheets bunched around her, she stares at the faint light creeping through her curtains.

  “So that really was him—just like the book’s illustration. And… a ‘Sage’? They were talking about going somewhere else, or something like that. But what?”

  The logical calm in the Doctor’s voice lingers in her thoughts. He wasn’t in a panic, yet he seemed profoundly uneasy about this so-called plan the Sage had proposed. Was it truly about traveling beyond their current reality? The more she ponders, the murkier it gets.

  She half considers messaging Kakashi right away, but her mind’s too foggy from interrupted sleep. Before dawn fully breaks, she simply can’t muster the energy to form a coherent report.

  “One thing’s certain…” she murmurs, letting her eyes flutter shut once more. “That Doctor is no ordinary researcher. And if this ‘Sage’ is young, why does he call them ‘Sage,’ anyway…?”

  Soon, exhaustion overtakes her again. She sinks back into the pillow, the memory of that hushed lab and the Doctor’s thoughtful, troubled demeanor flickering in the back of her mind. Whatever that ephemeral conversation signified, it can’t be just a random dream. Yet for now, Suzume drifts into a lighter doze, questions swirling unseen beneath the morning’s growing light.