There were no stars in the sky that night.

Not because of the clouds—but because the starlight itself had willed it so.

On my phone screen, the last message I had sent to my mother began to vanish, followed by all the others, one after another. The signal died. My phone’s battery drained to zero, along with every other device around me.

Only darkness remained, and, little by little, even that began to fade.

What could have been considered a sidewalk just a few minutes ago could no longer be accurately described; the only things left were the purest void, my own body, and my mind.

I was just walking home when it happened. To be precise, I had just bought a new volume of my favorite light novel from a bookstore—a typical Japanese-style fantasy story. But suddenly, as I crossed the street to the opposite sidewalk, my steps grew heavy and sluggish, as did the rest of the world.

My only instinct at that moment was to text my mother in a panic, thinking I was having a stroke. But from the looks of it, it hadn't done much good.

"How... how did this happen to me?"

The thought barely finished forming before the void began to crack like shattered glass.

Within moments, light began to bleed through the fractures appearing in space. It felt as though I was trapped inside a box of tinted glass that had suddenly started to splinter.

The void was "breaking." Until...

The light pouring through the cracks finally swallowed the emptiness whole.

I could barely keep my eyes open against the glare, but as they gradually adjusted, I noticed something new. The sky that had been pitch-black just minutes ago now reflected a vibrant, shimmering blue.

That sky was not my sky.

This place was not my home.

The air was pure, yet heavy—laden with something entirely foreign to me. Massive trees loomed ahead, while distant, snow-capped mountains pierced the clouds... and there was an ominous presence in the air.

A voice echoed from the giant trees.

"Finally, someone arrived alive."

I spun around instantly, without uttering a single word or breath.

Emerging from the trees, a woman walked toward me. With every step she took, an invisible pressure weighed heavier and heavier upon my body.

She was tall, maybe around 5'7". Her skin was smooth and radiant, and she possessed a voice that could strike fear into the heart of a dragon. There was something about her that set me on edge.

Mustering the last shred of courage I had left, I asked the only question that seemed to matter.

"Where... where am I?"

The woman tilted her head slightly.

"Depends. Do you want the short answer, or the true one?"

Silence hung between us.

Then, she smiled.

She threw her arms open toward the sky, as if presenting the world itself.

"In that case, welcome to the other side of your mortal world. A realm that exists beyond what your eyes were made to comprehend."

Her words explained absolutely nothing.

On the contrary.

They only multiplied my doubts.

"The other side...? What are you talking about? Can you explain it properly?"

She sighed, like a teacher about to instruct a child.

"Your world and this world exist side by side. Like reflections in opposing mirrors. The place you came from is merely one layer of reality."

She raised a finger.

"This place is the next layer."

Another silence.

It took my brain a few seconds to process those words.

"The next layer...?"

"Some of the scholars in your world would call it the 'fourth dimension.' Though, to be frank, that definition is far from capturing the truth."

"The fourth... dimension?"

Already annoyed by my questioning, the woman in front of me decided to change the subject.

"Setting aside that tedious explanation, how about we introduce ourselves?"

I quickly gave up trying to make sense of the technical information she had just dumped on me and agreed.

She bowed slightly, extending her hand like a waiter gesturing to a table.

"My name is Yaku, the witch of the forest."

"Nice to meet you, Yaku. I'm Rapha."

And that was how I was pulled out of my world and ended up on the other side—the fourth dimension.