Yuna is running through a maze of unfamiliar streets at night. The world around her feels surreal—and a faint voice echoes behind her, calling her name. (Yuna is dressed in white, barefoot, and trembling.) She glances over her shoulder and sees the silhouette of a man in the distance. No matter how fast she runs, he seems to be getting closer.

 Man (voice echoing, low and almost hypnotic):
“Why are you running, Yuna? You can’t escape.”

 Yuna; panting, her voice trembling:
“Leave me alone! What do you want?” She trips and falls, her hands scraping against the uneven ground. When she looks up, the man is standing over her, holding a small, leather-bound book.Man offering the book to her:
 “Take it. Your story isn’t over yet.” She shakes her head, backing away, but the book pages flipping open on their own. The dream world collapses around her as she screams— Yuna jolts awake, drenched in sweat. Her alarm clock blares beside her bed, the red digits reading 7:30 AM. She groans and her heart still racing from the dream—muttering to herself as she turns off the alarm. “That dream again. Why does it feel so real?” She gets up and splashes cold water on her face in the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, she notices the dark circles under her eyes. Yuna (to her reflection):
“You need a break. A walk, a coffee, anything.”

Later that day, Yuna decides to visit her favorite library, hoping to distract herself and find something about  nightmares. The library is massive and old, its gothic architecture giving it a slightly eerie charm. She wanders through the towering shelves, feeling comforted by the quiet.

The library’s aisles are narrow, with ladders attached to the shelves for reaching the highest books. Sunlight filters through stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the floors. There are very few visitors today, making the space feel almost haunted.

Yuna scans the psychology section, her fingers brushing over book spines. She’s distracted, her thoughts still on the dream. As she crouches to look at a lower shelf, she notices a small, dusty book sticking out from the corner.

Yuna pulling the book out, squinting at the title:
“Guest of the Diary… Never heard of this one.”

The book is old, its leather cover cracked and worn. She opens it, but the pages are blank.