Nora's pupils widened. She bit her fingernail hard enough to make it creak.

  The rear door of the car swung open by itself.

  Inside, the car was shrouded in darkness—dim, silent, like a giant abyss waiting for her to step in.

  Nora didn’t move.

  Her rational mind screamed: Don’t go in! Don’t go in!

  But then that voice returned, low and raspy, tinged with a mocking smile:

  “If you don’t get in soon… the ground beneath your feet will turn to swamp.”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Even as the words faded, she felt it—The ground beneath her was softening.She looked down.The asphalt was melting into black sludge.Her shoes were sinking.

  A strong suction tugged at her ankles, pulling her down.

  “Damn it!”

  She yanked her leg free and leapt toward the still-solid edge of the road, diving into the car.

  Slam!The door shut behind her.

  Inside, only a faint yellow light glowed.The air smelled damp and moldy, like old books left in a basement too long.

  Nora gasped for breath, her hands gripping the seat tightly as her eyes darted around.

  In the driver’s seat sat… something.

  It had a human shape, but its hunched back was covered in orange fur—like an animal, not a person.

  “You… you’re…”

  The thing slowly turned its head.

  Her voice trembled. Her eyes locked onto its face.

  A flash—Her notebook.

  The fox she had drawn.

  No.This wasn’t a coincidence.It was the fox—the one she had drawn.

  Nora stopped breathing.

  Her stomach twisted.Her blood ran cold.

  That face… identical to the sketch.But its eyes were missing.Just two hollow black voids, as if someone had gouged them out of a corpse.

  Nora’s throat tightened.Her nails dug into her palm.She forced herself not to scream.

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  She looked past the fox’s eyeless sockets—and realized the road was gone.

  In front of the car stretched a vast, black ocean.

  Trash floated atop the water.In the distance, black waves rolled across the horizon like the end of the world.

  Her breathing grew ragged.A bitter dryness coated her tongue.

  This had to be a dream.It had to be.

  The fox sniffed the air, then suddenly leaned toward her, its nose twitching near her shoulder.

  “Are you really Nora?”

  The voice was like the wind scraping across broken glass—hollow, amused, almost gleeful.

  “I… can’t seem to remember your face. How funny! HAHAHA!”

  A low, guttural laugh echoed through the car.

  Nora pressed herself against the door, voice shaking:“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

  The fox narrowed its hollow eyes, ignoring the question.

  “Welcome to our dream…” it said slowly. “You think this is fake—but it’s more real than anything. Do you believe that?”

  Nora couldn’t understand what it meant.She only knew one thing—she had to get out of here.

  “I don’t care who you are. I want to leave. Please… let me go! I want to wake up!”

  Her voice trembled, but her tone was firm.

  She clenched her eyes shut, pressed her hands over her ears, and repeated silently:

  “Wake up. Wake up. Please… let me wake up!”

  She focused on the image of herself waking in bed, willing her body to return.

  Around her, the sounds faded—The howling wind, the crashing waves, the fox’s laughter… all pulled away, like water draining from a tub.

  Her heart slowed.Everything grew still.

  Maybe… she was waking up.So quiet now.

  She opened her eyes.

  And froze.

  She wasn’t in her room.

  She was sitting on a carved wooden chair in a sun-drenched garden.Sunlight filtered through leaves.The air smelled faintly of blooming flowers.

  Birds chirped.The sky was a bright, perfect blue.Flowers carpeted the grass.A breeze passed, soft and dreamlike.

  Nora stood up quickly, heart racing.She didn’t trust this calm—not for a second.

  She began to move, slowly at first, then running.But no matter how far she went, the scenery didn’t change.

  She was trapped.

  Then—she heard it.

  That voice.

  “Hahaha… You think this is real… but it’s not…”

  She spun around.

  The fox was there again—But no longer that eerie creature from the car.

  Now, it wore a regal, ancient robe.Its posture was hunched, its whiskers long and drooping.The once-vibrant fur had faded to gray.

  Its eyes were still deep, unreadable.But its voice—It sounded old, almost like an elderly woman.

  Nora’s fingers trembled.She clenched her jaw.

  “What do you want from me?”

  The fox gave a slow smile, then extended two human hands—clenched into fists.

  “Let’s play a game,” it whispered.

  One fist slowly opened.Inside, a coin shimmered.

  “The coin is in one of these hands. Guess correctly, and you go home. Guess wrong…”It leaned forward.“…you stay here forever.”

  It held both fists out toward her.

  Nora’s heart thudded.

  From deep in her memory, an image surfaced—A game she used to play with her mom.

  Why was it showing up now?

  She forced herself to breathe.

  She had to win. She had to leave.

  Her eyes scanned the two hands.One was clenched tighter than the other, smaller in shape.

  She bit her lip.

  Her mom used to do that too—Hold the coin in the hand that looked smaller…To trick her.