When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reason like a child. When I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.
Now I know only in part then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.
—1 Cor. 13:11-12
How long has this been going on? What reason is there to be here? Just where did this consciousness come from?
—Endless Dream Corridor
The spiral staircase below seems to descend into Infinity. These feet continue to move as if they belong to someone else.
No. whose feet are these in the first place? Just where is this light coming from? Can any of these answers even be known?
A dim world. Vast, yet confined. A spiral path descending into nothingness. No perception of time. Suddenly, an idea.
A wrist. a wristwatch. A ⟨Chronograph⟩. A "⟨Moon's age⟩"
It's complex watch face displays a certain time.
4:02 AM. No wonder it's dark.
The Moon phase hands Indicate a
... There's a full moon tonight.
Taking a quick look above reveals... The same sight you'd see from the bottom of a well. A circular fragment of the night sky. The vortex of a staircase continues up to the sky, where a crimson moon lies. Dyed vermilion, as if stained in blood. A total lunar eclipse... Feels like it's always been a lunar eclipse, come to think of it.
This body is suddenly assaulted with loneliness and despair. A nostalgic migraine, Pain... Proof of this body's existence.
Despite disorientation and the inability to feel this body... The pain eliminates all doubts that it exists here.
Apparently, these feet have chosen to continue descending the staircase. The path stretches Infinitely, devoured by darkness of forever.
The deep, deep bottom of this pale blue abyss forms the shape of a mortar. And yet, there's no sensation of actual walking. Merely the sound of footsteps going down, down, down.
This feeling of descent is more like that of a jellyfish, or a dolphin swimming to the depths of the sea.
In the end, just how far down does it go... It's like an endless illusion. No, perhaps this really is an illusion? An arabesque Patten is engraved on the wall, reminiscent of a Möbius strip.
An alluring sensation, like following bait into a trap of space-time.
... Oozing terror seizes the body
And.. The sound of feet stepping firmly onto a wide, flat surface can be heard.
Is this the bottom?
A brief moment of relief. Nevertheless... Pitch-black. Vision limited to arms-length.
Nothing else is visible. Not the staircase nor the wall that had curved alongside it.
Just how far does this room go?
Slowly, feet fumble forward. Arms swing for direction. Hands grasp at air...
But these hands, these arms, these feet... Do they even exist? Or have they faded like a phantasmal phantom?
No, at least, the
The instrument meant to measure the passage of time, along with the ⟨moon⟩ that should be shining in the sky.
Those are the only things that surely exist... Right then... These fingertips come into contact with something...
Something firm. Something smooth. And yet cool to the touch. A slick texture. Seems to be glass.
The right hand glides smoothly, somehow lightning a small fire. A gradual approach to peer into the glass results in...
"...!" (???)
A desire to scream.
A inability to vocalize.
As if this body lacked vocal cords.
Turn around. Get out of here now. Don't look
But these eyes are wide open and cannot be shut.
They keep watching, as if the entire human body had become a gazing eye.
The life-sized mirror reflects something. The visage of an unexpected "certain someone".
That someone being... A boy who has left behind his innocence.