BREW

Earlier that night, Valen stood before two aprons — one was cheap and decorated with Hello Kitty, the other plain but overpriced. He weighed his options.

With his balance scale at home and new plans brewing in his head, he chose the cute one.

"I'll get the better one later... if I survive long enough to upgrade," he joked to himself.

He also bought a pack of paper cups—he couldn't keep giving away glassware like he did with Lenlen. It was too risky and expensive. Then, he made one last stop: the police station.

There, he asked about the mysterious glowing officer from the child swing incident.

They dismissed him immediately.

"Probably thought I was high," he muttered on his way out.

"But... are they hiding it?"

With no answers, Valen returned home and prepared to cross over again.

That familiar chill returned—the kind that seeps into your skin like moisture. The walls of reality thinned and peeled away, and Valen felt himself shift into the alterworld once more.

First thing he noticed: the jar of coffee beans.

It was full.

"What the... it was almost empty last time."

A chill of gratitude ran through him.

"Looks like someone wants me to keep brewing."

Despite the world's twisted nature, something here... welcomed him.

He got to work. After hours of testing, Valen confirmed it: the coffee maker was the tether that anchored him—and his cart—here.

With renewed purpose, he outfitted the cart like a proper stand:

Coffee maker

LPG stove

Paper cups

A gallon of water

A few flavor enhancers

This was it. His new schedule: street food by afternoon, coffee barista by late night.

He experimented with salted coffee.

Tasted good. No obvious effect.

"Maybe it's subtle... or just not for me."

So he set off to explore. With his cart squeaking quietly, Valen pushed through abandoned streets shrouded in flickering shadows.

The silence broke when he heard a doorknob turning—slowly. Repeatedly.

click click click

"Someone breaking in?" he whispered.

"Even here?" thinking of robbers

Knife in reach, he kept moving. He noticed the child swing was gone. That gave him a little relief.

He approached an intersection—and then froze.

A girl peeked around the corner.

Terrified. Pale. Trembling.

"Yo! What the—"

Valen stopped mid-sentence.

She was wearing jogging pants from his old school.

"A schoolmate?"

"She crossed over too..."

He offered her coffee, trying to help.

"This place isn't safe. You can stay on my house we will seek the ones with power. They'll help you, wait it out. No payment needed."

But she didn't respond. Her eyes locked on him like he was the monster.

He poured the salted brew and handed it to her anyway.

When he turned—she was gone.

"What...? Hey!"

She was already swallowed by the fog.

"Do I really look that scary?" he muttered.

He glanced at his Hello Kitty apron.

"I even picked the cute one."

Meanwhile, in the real world...

Carnage.

The school Tuesday attended—and nearby buildings—were torn apart in under five minutes.

No screams. Just silence after death.

The police didn't stand a chance.

In the Maharlika Vanguard HQ, alarms blared.

"Reality breach! Fissure event confirmed! Get reinforcements to the scene!"

Commander Merry of Tondo Branch had barely returned from Dreamworld recon when the call came. She immediately dispatched all 11 units to the breach zone.

She clenched her fists.

"The neighborhood we scouted earlier... it wasn't just a projection."

It had already begun.

After receiving classified information from the higher-ups, Merry stood frozen, the weight of the truth sinking deep into her bones.

"The closer we get to Merging Day... the more frequent the fissures and unexplainable phenomena become."

It wasn't speculation anymore. It was happening.

She remembered the neighborhood—the one rooted in her own city—suddenly appearing in the Dreamworld, three cities away. A territory, dislocated from time and space.

And then, the Child Swing's lingering energy, manifesting in the real world—without a fissure.

The rules were breaking.

"We can't stop it," she said, her voice sharp. "But we can reduce the civilian casualties. We buy time until the main HQ reinforcements arrive."

Without hesitation, Merry descended into the restricted vault.

She reached into a sealed containment drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

At first glance, they looked ordinary. But they hummed, faintly vibrating as if aware they were being summoned for war.

She held them tight, her expression unreadable.

"Let's get to work," she muttered, locking the vault behind her.

And with that, Merry marched into the shadows—toward a battlefield that blurred the line between dream and waking nightmare.