Everyone went downstairs, where Ben was surprised to see a familiar face.
“Mario!”
“Mario, how are you?
I haven’t seen you in ages!
How have you been?
Are you still working at the restaurant, or have you finally retired?”
Mario smiled and shook his hand.
“Things have changed a little.
I work cleaning sewer systems now.
It’s easier than you’d think, and I only work nights.”
Ben shook his hand once more before rejoining his friends, who were getting ready to leave.
Before they could go, Max asked:
“Where are you headed this time?”
Clark answered quickly:
“To a restaurant.
We’ll be back in a few hours.”
Max smiled and nodded.
Mario added:
“And don’t be late.
Max and I will make you some macaroni and cheese, just like we used to.”
Max chuckled.
“Back in the day, man…
these days, I can barely get out of my chair, let alone cook.
If only youth could come back for a day.”
Mario smiled.
“If only it really could.”
The five friends left, leaving Max and Mario behind.
…
About half an hour later, they reached the network of tunnels beneath the city.
The moment they stepped inside, the foul stench of sewage hit them.
Ben stopped and grimaced.
“Well, here we are…
instead of a fun night out, we ended up in the sewers.
Brilliant idea.”
No one answered.
Ben sighed as he followed them.
“My God…
why is this happening?”
They ventured deeper into the tunnel.
The lighting was so dim that the darkness seemed to swallow everything around them.
White and Guanda covered their noses against the stench, while Guanda pulled out her phone and switched on its flashlight, casting a narrow beam across the passage ahead.
A few rats scurried between the pipes, while the faint sounds of insects crawling through the cracks made everyone tense.
Ben stared down the passage, feeling as though something about this place was awakening a fragment of his dream.
“The door is here.
I’m sure of it.”
They walked a few more meters before reaching the end of the passage.
Ben looked around in confusion.
There was nothing there except piles of garbage, filthy water, and rats and insects moving through the shadows.
He frowned.
“Where is—”
No one answered.
Ben raised his head.
All four of his friends were standing behind him, staring at something with their eyes wide.
Shock was written across their faces.
Ben frowned.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Still, no one answered.
Then Ben noticed something strange behind him.
A faint golden glow spilled across the floor of the tunnel.
He froze.
Slowly, he turned around.
For a moment, his heart seemed to stop.
Behind him, where there had been nothing but a crumbling wall only moments ago, a soft golden light now filled the passage, emanating from something that had not existed before.
And at the heart of that light…
stood the door.
Ben’s eyes widened.
He stared at it in stunned silence before finally forcing the words from his lips.
“What…
the hell is that?”
The door was unsettling not merely because of its appearance, but because of the way it had appeared.
It was as though it had not been placed within the wall, but had replaced the wall itself without leaving a trace behind.
Its wooden surface was brown, ancient, and utterly still, yet there was something strangely majestic about it.
A highly intricate geometric symbol was engraved across its surface and on its handle.
Interlocking concentric circles twisted together with a precision almost impossible for the human mind to comprehend.
Sharp, straight lines cut through them, stretching outward like forbidden roads toward the four edges of the universe.
At the center of that intricate symmetry stood a vertical axis ending in a pointed sky-blue arrow, as though the entire symbol were directing its gaze toward something beyond the boundaries of this world.
Ben swallowed hard, his mouth still hanging open in shock.
No one said a word.
Even Nerv, who had told them about the gate only moments earlier, stood perfectly still, her eyes fixed upon it.
As for Clark…
He slowly approached the door, as though something unseen were drawing him toward it.
He raised his hand and placed his fingertips against the engraved symbol at its center.
Suddenly, the symbol lit up.
A faint golden radiance spread across the surface of the door, and strange words appeared before them, written in a language none of them recognized.
And yet…
they could all understand them.
Guanda stared at the words in astonishment, while White stepped closer.
The words began to glow brighter.
Then a new message appeared before their eyes:
“The Fallen Gate…
a gate leading to worlds beyond the limits of the human mind, worlds filled with endless stories, legends, and histories.”
The light faded for a moment.
Then another sentence appeared, stranger than anything that had come before it:
“You have found it.”
Silence fell.
Then the final words slowly appeared:
“Congratulations…
your attempt to protect your world from darkness has begun.”
No one spoke.
The five friends exchanged glances, all traces of mockery gone from their faces.
Ben spoke quietly:
“Wait…
what does it mean by ‘protect our world’?”
No one answered.
Because the door…
began to open on its own.
Everyone froze.
There were no sewers.
No crumbling walls.
No foul stench.
All of it had vanished, as though they had stepped into an entirely different place.
Beyond the doorway lay a scene of such beauty and strangeness that describing it seemed impossible.
A vast room stretched before them, immersed in a tranquil darkness that somehow held its own strange beauty.
At its center stood a large bed covered in rumpled white sheets, resting upon a dark, intricately patterned rug that covered part of the floor.
A luxurious crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.
Tiny candle flames flickered within it, casting a soft golden glow across the walls and furniture while leaving the rest of the room submerged in shadow.
Tall doors lined the walls, all firmly shut.
Their dark frames made them look like entrances to unknown places beyond anything the human mind could imagine.
From behind some of the closed doors, strange lights seeped through, slowly shifting without any visible source.
In one corner of the room stood a peculiar dark plant, its details barely visible in the shadows, as though the darkness itself had taken root and assumed its shape.
The five friends slowly stepped inside.
After only a few steps, a fragrance spread through the room, unlike anything they had ever encountered before.
It was more refined than the finest perfume, calm and deep, filling them with a strange sense of happiness they could not explain.
Ben smiled in amazement.
“Incredible…
We really found something beyond the material world we knew.”
Guanda and White sat on the bed.
The moment they sank into its soft covers, White looked at Guanda in wonder.
“It’s unbelievably comfortable…
It feels like I’m sitting on water, yet it molds perfectly to my body.”
Guanda placed a hand against the mattress and nodded.
“You’re right…
I’ve never felt anything like this.”
Meanwhile, Ben approached one of the closed doors.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
There was a sound coming from behind it.
Music.
Soft, beautiful melodies beyond description, woven from notes unlike anything produced by a human instrument.
It was as though the music was not being played within the room at all, but was drifting in from somewhere beyond the material world.
Ben remained there, listening, unable to pull himself away from the door.
Nerv approached another door and slowly raised her hand toward it without opening it.
Suddenly, something strange reached her ears.
It was not music in the usual sense.
There were no distinct notes, no identifiable source.
It sounded more like stardust scattering through the void, followed by a faint, beautiful ringing, like a tiny crackle echoing somewhere impossibly far away.
Nerv remained still for several moments, trying to understand what she was hearing.
Elsewhere in the room, Clark approached one of the small tables beside the bed, where several strange old books rested.
He reached for one and lifted it.
Then he suddenly froze.
Clark stared at the book and frowned.
The ceiling above them was reflected perfectly in its surface…
He slowly raised his head.
“Look up.”
Everyone looked toward the ceiling.
And froze.
Huge paintings hung above them, depicting strange entities whose forms defied description.
Some vaguely resembled bodies, while others possessed no shape the human mind could classify at all.
Beneath each painting was a strange name written in a language none of them had ever seen.
They tried to read the names, but the letters seemed to shift and change whenever they focused on them.
Clark was still holding the book, but he was no longer looking at its reflection.
He was staring at one particular painting…
as though he had seen it before.
Among the paintings hung one that was different from all the others, partially concealed by the shadows, as though someone had deliberately kept it hidden.
Only a strange distortion could be seen within it, obscuring the features of two people in a single image.
The moment Clark’s eyes fell upon it, something inside him stirred.
He was drawn to the painting without understanding why, and for a moment, he felt a painfully familiar sensation.
It was as though he had known those two people before.
As though he had once been accustomed to having them by his side.
Yet he had no memory of ever seeing them in his life.
He continued staring at the painting in silence, brows furrowed as he desperately searched his memories for something that could explain the feeling.
Nerv spoke without taking her eyes from the paintings.
“Those images…
they look like entities from beyond this world.”
Ben turned toward her in disbelief.
“I don’t believe what I’m seeing…
this whole place feels like a dream.”
White said nothing.
Instead, she approached the bed and studied it with interest.
Then she looked at Ben.
“Ben, come sit on it.”
Ben stared at her in confusion.
“The bed?
Why?”
“I don’t know…
I just feel like you should try it.”
Ben approached and sat on the edge of the bed.
The moment his body touched the covers, his expression changed.
A strange sense of comfort spread through him, unlike anything he had felt in a long time.
It was as though the exhaustion weighing on him was slowly dissolving.
“Strange…”
He stared at the bed for a moment.
“I feel…
like I could fall asleep.”
Clark carefully opened the book while Nerv stood beside him.
Meanwhile, Guanda pulled out her notebook and began recording everything she saw in the room, occasionally sketching what caught her attention.
On the first page was a strange title.
The words moved slowly before Clark’s eyes, their letters shifting and intertwining in a way that made them impossible to read, as though the book itself refused to reveal its name.
Nerv suddenly spoke.
“Wait…”
She pointed to the small mirror embedded in the center of the book, which she had noticed the moment it was opened.
“Try reflecting the words in it.”
Clark looked at her in confusion, then brought the book closer to the mirror, carefully positioning it so that the title was reflected on its surface.
Suddenly…
the words stopped moving.
Their strange shifting ceased, and the title became perfectly clear within the reflection.
The Absent God.
Clark and Nerv froze.
They exchanged a look filled with astonishment.
But the name was not the only thing that appeared.
Beneath the title, another passage emerged, written in a language they could clearly understand:
“Like Spinoza’s God, it is impersonal.
Unlike Him, however, it exists beyond nature.”
The two remained silent for several moments.
Nerv whispered:
“An…
Absent God?”
Clark continued staring at the words, a strange unease settling over him.
Then he whispered:
“Who even is Spinoza?”
No one answered.
Suddenly…
a faint sound came from the other side of the room.
Click.
Everyone turned at once.
To the right of the bed, where only moments ago there had been nothing but a dark wall, a strange door now stood.
No one knew how it had appeared.
There had been no trace of it before, as though it had always been there, simply waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
The door began to open slowly on its own.
Creeeeak…
Everyone froze.
No one dared approach.
From behind the door, a soft, beautiful light spilled into the room, utterly different from the room’s dim illumination, bathing part of the floor in a gentle glow.
Then Clark and Nerv noticed something above the doorframe.
A single word was written there:
“The Lobby.”
Everyone stared at it in silence.
The light was not frightening.
And whatever lay beyond the doorway did not appear hostile.
Instead, a gentle, unfamiliar chill drifted from within, brushing against their faces like a breeze from some distant place that did not belong to their world.
Ben spoke in a low voice:
“So…
do we go in?”
They looked at one another.
Fear was present in their eyes, but curiosity was stronger.
At last, they stepped toward the doorway.
Then they entered the Lobby.