The party was pure insanity. It didn't wind down until 2:00 AM, and after a three-day bender over the long weekend, even a man of steel would be hitting a wall. Just a second ago, he was still buzzing; now, suddenly, Jason was beyond exhausted. His head felt like it had been filled with lead, yet his brain was wired, refusing to shut down.

　　In his hazy state, he started kicking himself for that random whim he’d had on his way out the door. It wasn’t a long trip and the early summer air had felt right; at the time, all he wanted was to feel the night breeze on his face and enjoy the ride on his brand-new road bike—maybe play the "lone wolf" a little. Who would’ve guessed that this "short" distance would feel like a godforsaken marathon after a few drinks? If it weren’t for this bike, he’d be catching a lift with a classmate right now.

　　Now he was screwed. He was halfway home in the middle of the night with no taxis in sight, and God only knows how long an Uber would take to actually show up.

　　Seriously, why didn't I just ditch the bike at the club entrance and grab it tomorrow?

　　"Hell, what is wrong with me?" he cursed. Whatever. At least he was close. He just had to grind it out. His bed was calling; once he made it through the door, he could finally just crash and play dead.

　　He dug his heels in, and the bike surged forward, carrying him deeper into the thick of the night.

　　Though he was in the heart of the city, he was the only soul on the street. Under the yellowed haze of the streetlights, the occasional car flickered past like a ghost.

　　Swish... swish... In the stagnant air, the only sound was the rubber of his tires biting into the asphalt.

　　The thumping EDM and drum beats that had been rattling his brain for hours finally began to die out. His mind started to drift back to the real world, but this empty, hollow space felt like it was stripping away his grip on things—quietly eating away at reality itself.

　　In that headspace between reality and hallucination, the world seemed to solidify and lose its weight all at once. A shapeless dread began to bleed out from some dark corner of his mind, blurring the line between being awake and trapped in a dream…

　　As he pedaled, his head spinning, Jason realized the path ahead looked strangely familiar.

　　Wait—is this the old longtang Grandma used to take me through as a shortcut?

　　She’d been gone for almost two years now. Her face—once a blur in the mind of a guy constantly grinding for a paycheck—suddenly snapped into focus, bringing a fleeting, ghostly warmth with it.

　　Of course. This route could shave ten minutes off the ride, and for a guy whose eyes were practically glued shut, that was everything. He shoved the nostalgia aside, jerked the handlebars, and banked into the alley.

　　At midnight, the longtang was a tomb. The only light was a dull, oily reflection off the ancient paving stones, making the darkness feel even thicker. Jason felt like he was diving into a pool of black ink that had swallowed the night.

　　Left at the corner, past two houses, then a right...

　　At first, he navigated the maze with ease, riding the muscle memory of his childhood. But it didn't take long for the dim light to turn the familiar into something unrecognizable.

　　Before long, his hazy memories hit a dead end. He stared at the shikumen houses vanishing into the shadows, each one a carbon copy of the last. He was lost.

　　God, what a disaster. He’d tried to take the fast track home, only to end up spinning like a headless chicken in this hellhole.

　　He was stuck. Fine, I’ll just go back the way I came.

　　But a few minutes into his retreat, he realized how delusional that was. From the street, these old alleys looked small, but inside, they were a sprawling labyrinth of twisting, dead-end paths. He couldn't find the entrance to save his life.

　　He wandered the maze for God knows how long. Just as the poor guy was about to snap, a small bridge emerged from the gloom.

　　A sliver of moonlight fought through the trees on the bank, but he couldn't see much of the other side. It just looked... wider. More open.

　　That was all the hope he needed. He stood up on the pedals and gunned it toward the bridge.

　　As he crested the top and started down the other side, a wave of vertigo hit him. This scene—the bridge, the water, the houses along the bank—he’d seen this before.

　　He searched his brain, thinking back to those walks with his grandmother, but he didn't remember any creek cutting through the neighborhood.

　　Wait. It was the dream. A few nights ago, he’d dreamed he was wandering alone in a place exactly like this. No—not just similar. Identical.

　　Until this very second, he hadn’t even remembered the dream existed. Now, the way memory and reality were mirroring each other left him paralyzed in a daze.

　　He glanced down instinctively. The moon’s reflection in the water, shrouded in that same eerie mist... it was a perfect match.

　　Before he could process it, he was across.

　　"Stop tripping, man! You can dream all you want once you’re in bed. Right now, you need to find the damn house!" Shouting at himself in his head, Jason shook the cobwebs loose and forced himself to scan the area, desperate for a landmark.

　　Why was everything so gray? Was he just so exhausted that his vision was starting to blur?

　　He squinted, trying to make sense of it. Something was wrong. This wasn't the open space he thought he’d seen from the other side. Instead, it was a void—a vast, featureless wasteland stretching out toward an endless horizon.

　　How the hell could a place like this exist in the middle of the city?

　　If he weren’t so dead-tired, this string of disasters would have had Jason screaming every curse word in the book. But when you're this drained, it’s easy to just surrender to fate. His head slumped, and without overthinking it, he turned the bike around.

　　Wait... what?

　　Why was it still just a gray haze? Why was everything, in every direction, nothing but gray?

　　Where was the bridge? Where were the alleys that had been just a few feet away?

　　The fog in Jason’s brain vanished instantly, replaced by a jolt of pure adrenaline. He stared back at the path he’d just taken, but there was no "bridge over flowing water" anymore. Beneath him lay a vast, misty expanse of water—dead calm and chillingly deep. The longtang was gone. In this infinite grayness, it was impossible to even imagine a shoreline on the other side.

　　This has to be some kind of sick joke.

　　He rubbed his eyes hard. The second he opened them, he offered up a desperate, silent prayer for a miracle—for the bridge to reappear.

　　Nothing.

　　In that heartbeat, a hallucinatory tremor shook his soul—the realization that reality always presents itself without explanation, and a man has no choice but to endure it.

　　But this? This was taking the "prank" too far.

　　"AHHH!!!"

　　Jason let out a primal scream. If this is a dream, then wake the hell up!

　　This isn't funny!

　　But it was like blowing air into the sky. Before he could even finish the shout, the sound vanished. It didn't echo; it didn't even make a dent in the silence. While his throat was still vibrating from the effort, Jason was already doubting if he’d actually made a sound at all.

　　It wasn't just the land that was empty. Everything was.

　　Jason felt his heart shift from a frantic race to a series of suffocating contractions. Did his heart really think that turning into a stone-hard knot was the only way to survive this?

　　As his body teetered on the edge of a total breakdown, Jason clutched his chest, fighting to keep it together. But it was a losing battle—everything about this godforsaken place suggested that struggle only led to one inevitable end.

　　Just take a few deep breaths, he told himself. Whatever happens, just get your head straight first.