Screams of a girl. Blood splashing against my face. People gathering, their voices merging into chaos. The distant wail of an ambulance. And then—darkness.

Tears stung my eyes as I screamed for her, powerless.

I jolted awake in my bed, my chest heaving. The nightmare was gone, but the echo of it lingered. My fingertips brushed my face and, to my shock, I felt the dampness of real tears.

"Why… why do I feel like I needed her? Needed to save her…"

The screen of my phone glared at me with the time. I had to get ready if I didn’t want to be late for college.

Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. The memories of that dream crashed down on me—the scream of the girl, the siren of the ambulance—pounding against my skull like a cruel hammer.

I forced myself to meet my reflection in the mirror. My face looked pale, haunted.

"It’s okay. I’m okay."

Like every morning, I cooked my breakfast, sat down, and ate in silence. The silence was something I had grown used to; maybe even learned to love. My parents died when I was still a child, and it was my grandfather who raised me. But when I entered college, I chose to live alone. Loneliness, in a way, felt like home.

I locked my apartment and started walking. My college wasn’t far. On the way, the dream lingered in my mind like a shadow.

"Maybe it’s because Grandfather died on this day… maybe that’s why I dreamed of someone dying."

My grandfather… People said he was a great man. An Army General who, according to rumors, was the reason Japan won the last great war. They whispered that he had the ability to see the future—that he saved countless comrades because of it.

When he was in the hospital, I visited him often. Each time, he would tell me a story about the war. But the stories always changed—details shifting, endings rewriting themselves. Perhaps he was simply losing his mind. Or perhaps…

I shook my head, brushing off the thought.

As I walked, a sudden blur rushed past me—a dog, running free, its leash trailing. Its paws slapped against the pavement as it darted forward.

And then I heard her. A girl’s voice, clear and desperate:

“Please, Lassie, stop! Please—catch him!!”

That voice… it seemed so familiar, yet so distant—echoing from somewhere deep inside my mind. Before I even realized it, my legs moved on their own. I sprinted forward, reaching for the leash, as if something within me already knew… I had to.

"What does this mean for me? Who is she to me??"