The air smelled like flowers. But not real flowers—more like that synthetic scent used in toy stores. Everything was too clean, too bright. Even the sun looked like it was hanging from invisible strings.
"How can they live like this?" Sera muttered as they walked through the perfect streets of Luminas Kingdom. Ryouhei didn't answer. His hand still clutched the diary, as if letting go would mean losing his only anchor.
The villagers greeted them with over-the-top enthusiasm. Smiles so wide they hurt. Some didn't even have pupils—just empty, doll-like eyes.
"Thank you for saving us, Heroes!" a woman shouted with a plastic voice.
"Saving you from what?" Sera asked, but no one replied. They just laughed.
Ryouhei stopped in front of a weapon shop. Inside, a sword shone with artificial light. A sign read: "Destiny Blade! Free for the Chosen Ones."
"This place makes no sense," he said. "Everything feels designed to stop anyone from asking questions."
Then, a figure approached. The trembling young man from the earlier group—the one who muttered strange things. His eyes were red now. A chill ran down Ryouhei's spine.
"You shouldn't have written in the diary. He sees everything from above. He rewrites the script when someone deviates."
Sera frowned.
"Who is 'He'?"
The boy looked at them like it was the last time he'd ever see something real. Then, with a cracked voice, he said:
"The Director. The one who writes the parts no one should see."
And without warning, a melody began to play from everywhere. The villagers lined up like actors on stage, and an invisible narrator exclaimed:
"The heroes must begin their adventure! Time to visit the royal castle!"
Ryouhei looked at Sera. Both knew something was guiding them—something beyond the system. Something using narrative as a prison.
"Let's go," he said firmly.
"To the castle?"
"Yes. To meet the scriptwriter of this farce."
As they walked on, the sky seemed to flicker. As if the curtain was about to fall… and reveal what lay behind it.