Morning light should have made the world feel normal again.

It didn’t.

When I stepped outside and walked toward UFO Park, the air felt different.

Not cold, not warm… just wrong.

Like something in the atmosphere was leaning toward me.

People were out as usual.

Dog owners, joggers, a couple feeding pigeons.

But the animals felt off.

A crow on the tree was staring at the sky instead of the ground.

A dog lowered its head and sniffed the grass with unusual tension, like it expected something to crawl out.

Even the pigeons were keeping more distance from each other than normal.

Maybe it was just me.

Maybe I was still shaken from last night.

I kept walking.

The closer I got to the center of the park, the heavier the air felt.

Not in a dramatic way—

more like walking through a place that remembered something it shouldn’t.

Yesterday’s nightmare replayed in my head.

The light that bent…

the ripple that opened…

the creature that stepped out…

I swallowed.

“Calm down.”

I told myself that, but my heartbeat didn’t listen.

I reached the spot where everything went wrong last night.

Nothing looked broken.

No cracks.

No scorch marks.

No signs of anything unusual.

But the ground felt… tense.

Like the surface was holding its breath.

I crouched and touched the dirt.

For a moment, I thought I was imagining it—

but the soil trembled.

Not visibly.

Just a faint vibration under my fingertips.

My chest tightened.

Not a dream.

Not imagination.

Something really happened here.

I stood up slowly.

A sound behind me made my shoulders jump.

Footsteps.

Soft, careful ones.

I turned and saw a girl about my age watching me.

Short blonde hair, light jacket, cautious eyes.

Her expression said she hadn’t slept well either.

She wasn’t jogging.

She wasn’t walking her dog.

She was scanning the area.

Like me.

She opened her mouth slightly, hesitated, then asked:

“Did you… feel something strange here?”

My breath caught for a moment.

Someone else saw it.

Someone else knew.

I tried to answer normally.

“What do you mean?”

She looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“The air here. It feels… unstable.”

She pressed a hand to her arm, like she was cold.

“Last night, too. Something happened. I heard sounds no animal should make.”

A chill went down my spine.

So I wasn’t crazy.

And she wasn’t either.

Before I could say more, she tensed—

her eyes flicking toward the trees.

I followed her gaze.

A dog stood frozen in place.

Its body was stiff, pointed at nothing.

Then, as if waking from a trance, it bolted in the opposite direction, dragging its leash and owner with it.

The girl whispered:

“It’s getting worse.”

I swallowed hard.

She was right.

And deep down, I knew what she said wasn’t exaggeration.

This wasn’t the end of whatever started last night.

It was only spreading.

Author’s Note：

This world is just starting to open. Stay tuned.