It was a dream. At first, I thought it was just a simple dream. But as the days passed, it became clearer. The feeling of past life memories slowly, piece by piece, coming back to me. I was living an ordinary life in a reincarnated body, and those memories seeped into my mind like long-dormant fragments.

In the dream—no, in my past life—my body was so weak that it was difficult to even drink a sip of water on my own. At night, it was a struggle just to sit up, and I couldn't do anything unless someone was by my side watching over me. Back then, he was there. That boy who tenderly protected me, anxious and powerless at a young age. Every touch, every look was so vivid and warm. It was too lifelike to be just a dream, a feeling that dug deep into my heart.

Today, I went to a neighbor's house to get some briquettes. A small, old alleyway, familiar smells, and an ordinary daily routine. But the sight I faced upon opening the door blurred the line between reality and dreams. Glowing eyes, sharp claws, and blood everywhere. People were being ruthlessly struck down.