Do you want to take a look at the edge of your dream while you are awake?

Duncan's smiling words sounded to Shirley like a deep temptation coming from the dark abyss of the sea. She felt a shudder in her heart and instinctively resisted this suggestion, but she couldn't suppress the impulse that arose -

In this nightmare that has tormented her for eleven years, outside this locked little house, on the street that she had not seen with her own eyes eleven years ago...what exactly could be going on?

She subconsciously took a deep breath and turned to look at the small window not far away.

A dark red hue, as dull as dried blood, filled the small window, preventing her from seeing the scene on the street. On that morning eleven years ago when the fire illuminated it, she had never been able to look out the window, so in this dream, the scene outside the window was hidden in the chaotic light and could not be seen clearly at all. Even the living room outside the room, when she looked through the door, there was only a hazy darkness.

The dream reflects her own memory and cognition. Eleven years ago, she failed to escape from this cottage. Today, eleven years later, is it really possible for her to walk out of this room?

"Can people really walk around in their dreams..." Shirley couldn't help but mutter to herself, "I don't know what's out there... Is it just nothing out there?"

"Dreams are a reflection of one's subconscious mind, and one's subconscious mind often remembers details that one cannot even perceive," Duncan's voice came from the door. "Perhaps you have been trapped in this room for eleven years, but the light and shadow outside the window, the sounds, and the things you remember through intuition are all filled in your dreams. In these details, we may be able to glimpse some clues.

"Of course, the decision is yours. If you refuse, I will not continue to spy on your dreams. I will stay here. Don't worry, as long as I am here, this nightmare will not continue. You can sleep peacefully. There will still be a sunny morning tomorrow."

Shirley bit her lip lightly, and then, as if with great effort, she made up her mind: "I... want to go out and take a look."

"Okay," Duncan nodded, moving aside to clear the door, "I'll go with you."

A warp shadow, a mobile scourge, took the initiative to express his desire to walk with her - this should have been a terrifying invitation, but for some reason, Shirley suddenly felt relieved this time.

It was as if a cluster of warm light suddenly appeared in this endless dark nightmare, allowing me to relax a little.

She felt that she must be crazy, and gradually became crazy while living with the evil god.

Duncan followed Shirley, and together they walked through the wooden door of the small room and entered the living room of Shirley's childhood memory.

Agou also followed beside them. The Deep Hound seemed very nervous. He was paying careful attention to his surroundings and occasionally pretended to listen attentively, paying attention to whether there was any unusual movement on the street.

Shirley was curious when she saw this: "Agou, what are you doing?"

"Investigation," Agou said in a deep voice, "We are entering an unknown area in the dream...Further ahead is an area that does not exist in your memory. In theory, the things ahead will be more and more inclined to your subconscious imagination and strong emotions. When fear is dominant, these imaginations and strong emotions will often generate some...not so friendly things."

Shirley was surprised: "Agou, you even know this?"

"I know a little bit," Agou shook his head, "I am at least an orthodox deep demon..."

Duncan didn't pay attention to the conversation between Shirley and Agou. He was observing the living room to see if there were any clues.

A chaotic and hazy darkness enveloped the shabby little hall, as if a lingering smoke filled the space. He saw the wooden shelves against the wall, the tables and chairs on one side of the living room, and an old-looking wall clock hanging on the wall. The hands on the dial seemed blurry and distorted like shaking smoke, spinning in circles meaninglessly.

Deep scratches can be seen on the floor in the center of the living room.

Those were the traces left behind when Agou broke in that year.

In addition, there was no blood, no corpse, and no signs of fire in the living room - the "fire" seemed to be confined to the street outside, or it might simply be because in Shirley's subconscious, the fire never spread into the room.

They walked through the living room and came to the front door.

There was a big hole in the door, leaving only the door frame and a few broken pieces of wood hanging on it, which was obviously the work of the Deep Hound.

Further out were the streets engulfed by fire.

Shirley suddenly stopped.

She had already walked here, but suddenly realized what she was really afraid of and resisting.

"Shirley?" Agou noticed Shirley's hesitation and looked up curiously.

Shirley bit her lips tightly, as if she didn't hear what Agou said. She stared at the street outside the gate, looking at the mist filled with distorted red light. She felt that every cell and every nerve in her body was tense, retreating, and fearful.

She seemed to see her parents who had gone out and never returned, and saw them collapsed in front of their home. She didn't even dare to imagine what the scene would be like, or what would happen if she took a step out.

Then she heard the sound of chains snapping.

Agou took the initiative to walk forward, stuck his head out to look in the direction of the street, and then retracted his head.

"Shirley, it's okay. There's nothing scary out there. If there is, it's... I can't see it."

Shirley looked at the Deep Hound's empty eyes with some surprise. She pursed her lips and said, "Thank you."

Then she took a step forward and walked out of the door of her home eleven years ago.

The streets were filled with a thin layer of mist. In the thin dark red mist, one could vaguely see the outlines of houses and street lamps, as well as the twisting and undulating road surface.

The buildings in the distance were shaking abnormally in the fog. They had been burned into frames in the fire, appearing black or dark red in color, and their edges were trembling like shapeless flames. From time to time, crackling sounds came from nowhere, as if the fire was still spreading in invisible places.

Tiny sparks, dust and ashes floated in the air, mixed with a pungent smell.

Duncan frowned slightly.

The fire on the street had been extinguished, leaving only traces of the fire. The ubiquitous ashes and the suspicious piles of melted metal in the corners of the street proved the real existence of the fire.

But he saw nothing that might be connected to the solar fragments.

But on second thought, this seems normal - after all, this is just Shirley's dream, a stage woven together by her memory, cognition and imagination, rather than really bringing everything back to eleven years ago.

With this thought in mind, he followed Shirley and slowly walked along the street that had been burned by the fire.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Shirley turned around in surprise: "Mr. Duncan?"

Duncan frowned and waved his hand, listening attentively to the movements around him.

Just now, he seemed to hear a faint voice whispering something in his ear.

He carefully examined it for a long time, and suddenly walked towards a pile of ashes on the side of the road.

It was a pile of twisted black ashes, with some charred fragments that seemed to have not been completely burned in the middle. There were even sparks burning next to the ashes. If you looked carefully, you could vaguely see that the ashes vaguely formed a curled up... "person".

Duncan stared at the ashes for a long time, then slowly bent down and listened attentively -

"...I...don't want to die..."

The ashes whispered softly.

Duncan's eyes widened slightly.

Shirley, who was following closely behind him, also heard the whisper, and the girl's reaction was more straightforward:

"Fuck, what the hell is this?!"

Duncan turned his head slightly, and Shirley quickly adjusted her words: "Um, I mean this is so scary..."

"...I still like your straightforwardness just now." Duncan's mouth twitched. In fact, he was also startled by the murmur of the ashes, but was completely drowned out by Shirley's yell. Then, his eyes fell on the more piles of ashes on the street.

The soft, continuous and overlapping murmurs, along with the floating ashes and sparks on the street, reached his and Shirley's ears.

“I don’t want to die…” “Help…” “…go home…” “Someone come and help me…”

A creepy feeling spread in her heart, and Shirley subconsciously leaned closer to Agou, feeling her muscles tense up.

She dared to fight the cultists with a demon hound, but she had no resistance to this pure weirdness and evil.

What's more, this is her own nightmare - the most difficult thing for people to fight is always the terror in their own hearts.

But at this moment, she was suddenly confused:

Is this really my nightmare?

Is this really just a dream? Why did these "cries for help" that she should never have come into contact with and could never imagine appear on this "edge of dreams" that was far away from her memory and cognition?

Shirley subconsciously looked at Duncan, only to see that the latter was also turning his gaze towards her, his deep eyes full of scrutiny and thought.

“This may not just be a dream.”

Duncan said in a deep voice.