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A 25-year-old man sat in his gray, monotonous office in the heart of the city. The place was filled with identical cubicles, with fluorescent lights that occasionally flickered, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. The days repeated themselves, one after another, in an endless routine of paperwork and endless meetings. Every morning, he sat at his desk, surrounded by piles of documents that never seemed to diminish.
Today, however, there was a small victory that lifted his spirits: he didn't have to work overtime. For the first time in weeks, he could leave at a decent hour. As he watched the clock, waiting for the moment to go, he felt a slight glimmer of happiness. It was a tiny spark amidst a life that had become a desperate monotony.
When the clock signaled the end of the workday, he got up from his chair with a mix of relief and exhaustion. He quickly gathered his things and waved goodbye to his colleagues. No one paid much attention; everyone was trapped in their own daily struggles.
The walk home, to a small, rundown apartment in a marginal neighborhood, was a mixture of dark thoughts and reflections on his life. He walked slowly, feeling the weight of the years that seemed to have passed in a flash, yet each day was an unbearable burden.
When he finally arrived at his building, he climbed the worn stairs to his third-floor apartment. The place was small and neglected, with walls that needed a fresh coat of paint and furniture that had seen better days. He headed to the balcony, seeking a breath of fresh air. He lit a cigarette and let the smoke fill his lungs, looking out at the city stretching beyond his sight.
There, in the solitude of his balcony, he realized how empty his life had become. Every small achievement seemed insignificant against the vast mediocrity surrounding him. He had dreamed of much more when he was young, but now, at 25, he found himself trapped in a meaningless existence.
Reflecting on every decision that had led him to this point, he felt a deep sadness. He had failed to escape the cycle of poverty and hopelessness. The weariness of the years felt heavier than ever, and the cigarette in his hand trembled slightly.
It was then that he noticed a strange smell, acrid and burnt. At first, he thought it was the cigarette, but soon he realized it was something much more serious. Smoke began to seep under his door, and when he opened it to investigate, he saw flames consuming the hallway.
Panic seized him. He tried to find an exit, but the fire spread quickly. Desperation turned to terror as he realized there was no escape. In those final moments, as the flames devoured everything around him, he understood the harsh reality of his existence: he had lived and would die without ever having achieved his dreams.
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At that moment, Kaede woke up with a start, sweating and with his heart racing. The nightmare had transported him to a past life he preferred to forget, a life where everything had been different and yet equally despairing.
"What's wrong with you now?" Sukuna's voice held a hint of concern.
"Nothing, nothing happened, just... the same stupid nightmare," Kaede replied, now calm, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
"Hehe, it's ridiculous that my nightmares are something so stupid when my current life is much worse, and yet they torment me," he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the remnants of his distress.
Sukuna watched him with a mix of curiosity and disdain. "What could be so terrible in a nightmare that it disturbs you like this, Kaede?"
Kaede sat up, taking a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. "It's not the nightmare itself; it's what it represents. It's a constant reminder of a life that no longer exists, of decisions that led me to a dead end. It's ridiculous that, with everything I face now, it still affects me."
"Well, well, the great Kaede tormented by the ghosts of his past," Sukuna mocked, but there was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "We all have our demons, I suppose."
Kaede looked at him, his eyes tired but determined. "I suppose so. But I'm not going to let a past life define what I am now. I have a purpose here, even if it's just to survive in this shared body."
"A purpose, you say," Sukuna's sinister smile returned. "You better make sure that purpose doesn't interfere with my own plans, Kaede. Because even though we share this body, we're not friends. Keep your nightmares and your purposes in their place."
Kaede nodded slowly, understanding the implicit warning. "I know, Sukuna. I know. But I also know that our coexistence depends on a delicate balance. I'm not a threat to you... yet."
Sukuna laughed. "Yet, you say. We'll see, Kaede. We'll see."
Kaede lay back down, closing his eyes. The reality of his situation was overwhelming, but he knew he couldn't be defeated by the past. He had to be strong, not just for himself, but to maintain the balance within his own being. As darkness enveloped him again, he promised himself that he would find a way to control his nightmares and move forward, no matter what the future held.
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My God, this chapter was tough to write. Honestly, I outdid myself with this one, but I love how it turned out. I hope you all do too. See you tomorrow!