The ground beneath my feet shudders, like a giant monster stirring from hibernation.

  Crack.

  A dry snapping sound echoes, followed by jagged cracks racing up the pristine white marble pillars. Before my bewildered eyes, the majestic arena crumbles in an instant. Huge chunks of architecture disintegrate, turning into glowing specks of dust that evaporate into the air.

  The scene that emerges makes my jaw drop.

  A junkyard. Or more accurately, an industrial-scale scrap heap stretching to the horizon.

  Mountains of yellowed report papers are piled high, threatening to collapse and bury anyone who dares to approach. Interspersed among them are giant office coffee machines, towering like skyscrapers, groaning and spewing gray smoke that reeks of burnt caffeine. On the ground, metal trash cans sprout legs and scurry around, colliding with each other to create a deafening clatter.

  "Done already?"

  A familiar voice rings out, dragging me out of my stupor. Itsuki-sama stands there, still holding Snow-Itsuki by the scruff of his neck like a stray cat. He lets out a long sigh, looking relieved as if a thousand-pound weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

  Seeing the space stabilize, he swings his arm, unceremoniously tossing his weak alter ego aside.

  Memories flood back into my mind, piecing together a complete picture. The Zen gym... The beach... The snowstorm...

  Turns out it was all just a hellish training sequence inside the bizarre subconscious of this fox god.

  "Itsuki-sama..." I stammer, trembling finger pointing at the empty space where the arena just vanished. "That... one..."

  "A protective cage for your sanity," Itsuki-sama dusts off his suit sleeve, his voice full of reproach. "Your busybody nature, your wannabe hero complex, clashed violently with my subconscious. If I hadn't hastily erected that stage, your mind would have disintegrated without a trace by now."

  He narrows his eyes, his fox tail whipping a floating stack of files, sending papers flying like summer snow.

  "As long as you refused to realize your own problem, that arena would have kept resetting forever. Do you know how much FP it cost me to build that loop down here?"

  I swallow hard. Gulp. My face burns hot. Turns out the tragic loop I thought was a fateful trial was actually Itsuki-sama's way of protecting me from my own impulsiveness.

  "So... where is this?"

  "Layer 3 of my mind," Itsuki-sama spreads his arms, smirking. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

  Kujo-sensei finally strolls over from behind a broken photocopier. He adjusts the sunglasses askew on his nose, looking around the junkyard with an expression of extreme distaste.

  "Couldn't you spend a little money to hire an architect to redesign this layer properly?" He clicks his tongue, kicking an empty can. "The upper two layers are poetic blue seas and white snow, but down here it looks like an urban landfill. It is an eyesore."

  "Can't be helped," Itsuki-sama shrugs helplessly. "Cleaning up this mess accumulated over hundreds of years takes a lot of effort, it is not as easy as changing a desktop wallpaper. Just leave it like this for a... rugged look."

  I nod, my head still buzzing, but at least I have grasped the situation.

  "I understand," I say, voice lowering, looking down at my shoes. "So that is it... all of this... was for training."

  "Don't flatter yourself, kid," Itsuki-sama cuts off my grateful train of thought with a bucket of ice water. "Originally, this expensive, melodramatic psychological play wasn't in my plan at all."

  "Hmph," Kujo-sensei crosses his arms, nodding in agreement. "I only intended to teach you some gentle basics. I didn't expect your stubbornness to force us to resort to this method."

  I freeze for a few seconds. Guilt and embarrassment mix into a bitter cocktail.

  "Huh...?" I mumble, face burning. "So... so I caused trouble?"

  "Yeah, pretty much," Itsuki-sama steps closer, giving me a light shove that makes me stumble.

  "You tortured my ears with theories learned from comic books, and made me spend a pile of FP just to save you from my own head."

  "Wasted money only to get lectured. Isn't that hilarious?"

  "Alright, stop whining about being poor, boss," Kujo-sensei waves his hand, the carefree look of a diligent civil servant appearing clearly. "You know perfectly well us humans don't have FP to compensate you."

  Itsuki-sama huffs, one ear twitching in resignation.

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  "Hmph, fine. Anyway, the idea of shoving you into my head for 'training' was my proposal. Consider it... tuition fees. Seems it wasn't in vain."

  I am dumbfounded, staring wide-eyed at the two adults haggling like they are at a market.

  "Uh? Wait..." I stammer, scratching my head. "So... it was successful? I thought 'awakening' had to be spectacular? Like earth-shattering, or unlocking some energy blast skill..."

  Before I can finish, Itsuki-sama suddenly swings his arm. An invisible force lifts Snow-Itsuki off the ground. He grabs the alter ego by the collar, pulling him close to his face, looking like he wants to devour him alive.

  "Look closely, kid," he growls, not turning his head.

  The scene before me is as cruel as ever. The sound of tearing fabric is piercing in the quiet scrapyard.

  "How do you feel? Outraged?"

  "Yes..." I let my arms hang loose, an uncomfortable feeling crawling in my chest like a worm. "I feel... like having an eyesore."

  "So do you want to rush up here, punch me in the face, and lecture me on human morality again?"

  Strange. The boiling urge to scream for justice like the previous times in the arena has evaporated completely. My hand no longer trembles searching for a hammer handle or sword hilt.

  "I..." I hesitate, shaking my head. "No. I don't want to correct you anymore, I am just simply curious."

  "Itsuki-sama, if I may ask. Why must you be so extreme? Why do you treat his existence... like a poisonous thorn that must be uprooted at all costs?"

  The hand gripping Snow-Itsuki's collar loosens. Itsuki-sama drops the alter ego to the ground with a thud, then turns to look at me, his brow relaxing slightly.

  "You are tamer this time," he sighs. "Alright. How can I put this so you can visualize it?"

  He lightly kicks the leg of the fox lying on the ground, dusting off his pants leg.

  "Hey, loser. Sit up and tell the kid. You are a professional at being 'useless'."

  Snow-Itsuki scrambles up, clutching his throat, coughing a few times, then adjusting his disheveled Kariginu stained with machine oil and sugar water. He looks up at me with sad eyes, sighing.

  "Kaito," he speaks, voice raspy like dry leaves rustling. "Do you have something called... a life goal? A reason for you to throw off the warm blanket and crawl out of bed every morning?"

  "Well... isn't it to study well, get into a top university, get a high-paying job, become successful, then... um... get a beautiful girlfriend?"

  "Then what?" He asks back. "When you have all those things, what do you do next?"

  "That is too far... I haven't thought about it," I scratch my head, confused.

  "See, that's the problem," Snow-Itsuki leans back against a towering pile of tattered reports, looking up at the gray sky of the subconscious layer.

  He points at his own chest, then points at Itsuki-sama.

  "Me... and that guy too... Inside here, there are no goals or aspirations. I don't want to die, but asking if I desperately want to live... not exactly. We just exist day by day like a light bulb with a filament that hasn't burned out yet."

  "So ultimately," Itsuki-sama continues, voice even. "Work is the only goal I can aim for right now. As long as I am busy, it's my coping mechanism."

  He steps forward, his shadow looming over the weak alter ego sitting on the ground.

  "But if that were all, my life would be pathetic and bland. And this guy..." He points at Snow-Itsuki with disgust. "...He always whispers in my ear 'Why try? Rest. Give up', driving me insane."

  "Is this..." I mumble, trying to find the right word. "Burnout?"

  "Call it that if you want," Itsuki-sama nods. "But normally I don't have time to care, it is tiring."

  "And me..." Snow-Itsuki smiles a twisted smile. "...I am the one who occasionally brings that uncomfortable feeling to him. Just seeing me is enough."

  "Knowing the basics is enough. Now let's get out of here quickly."

  Itsuki-sama waves his hand decisively, not waiting for me to digest the philosophy just now.

  The scrap heap around us shudders and moves. Metal from the carcasses of giant coffee machines is torn apart, flying and colliding with a clang. In the blink of an eye, a shiny silver metal block shaped like a spaceship has formed right before our eyes.

  "Huh?" I stare wide-eyed, pointing at the looming metal block. "A spaceship? I thought we just closed our eyes and woke up?"

  "You imagine things too much, don't you?" Itsuki-sama knocks lightly on my head with a loud thunk. "In reality, is there anyone to wake us up? The only way is to swim upstream against the subconscious ocean."

  "Meaning now we crawl out of your mind literally?" Kujo-sensei asks, voice full of doubt.

  "Exactly," he nods, opening the ship door. "Get in fast, if you are slow and get stuck here, don't blame me."

  The metal door slides open with a soft hiss of compressed air. We all file inside.

  Stepping in, I am immediately overwhelmed by the scent of expensive leather; the entire space is bathed in warm yellow light. In complete contrast to the cold exterior, the passenger cabin inside is a luxurious business class lounge. Sofas upholstered in deep red velvet look soft, a mini bar sparkles with glassware, and the carpet is so thick it swallows the sound of footsteps.

  I flop onto the velvet cushion, the softness enveloping my aching body making me want to melt immediately. My weary bones seem to realign, and the dull headache subsides somewhat.

  "I don't know why I don't want to return to the real world anymore," I mumble, fingering the cold glass of water that just appeared on the table.

  Suddenly remembering something missing, I lean close to the glass window to look down at the junkyard below. Snow-Itsuki is still standing there, alone amidst the waste paper, looking pitifully pathetic.

  "What about him?"

  "Screw him," Itsuki-sama casually pours a glass of wine, swirling it gently. "That guy knows how to crawl up to Layer 2 himself. Stubborn as a leech, he won't die."

  Down below, seeing the ship shudder and start up, Snow-Itsuki runs after it in panic, waving both hands frantically, screaming hopeless words swallowed by the soundproof glass.

  "No! Let me go too!"

  In response to that plea, Itsuki-sama just waves his hand lightly as if swatting a fly. A shockwave sends the poor fox flying far away, rolling over and over before sinking behind a mountain of waste.

  "Is it really okay to leave it like this?" I ask timidly, feeling a pang of conscience for the alter ego.

  "Don't worry," he shrugs, downing the wine. "I've lived like this for hundreds of years, just fine."

  Itsuki-sama walks straight to the bow of the ship. The front is completely empty, with only a giant pane of tempered glass separating us from the outside world. He raises his claw, slashing a hard line into the void.

  SLASH!

  The space in front of the ship is torn open like rotten fabric, revealing a pitch-black, bottomless tear. The edges of the crack leak chills that run down the spine.

  "Huh? So who's driving?" I panic, gripping the armrest. "Where's the steering wheel?"

  "We are winging it," Itsuki-sama turns back, smiling wickedly. "The way back is calculated beforehand, why worry. It'll just be a bit bumpy, don't vomit on my carpet."

  Before I can get my bearings, the ship roars like a beast, then shoots into the black rift.

  "AAAAAHHH!!!"