With a tired expression, I opened my eyes to find myself in an unfamiliar room. The bed I was sitting on was soft and oddly f, but everything around me felt fn. As I gnced around, my eyes were met with walls covered in anime posters—colorful, detailed illustrations of characters I vaguely reized, though the room itself felt detached from any memory I could p the er, seated at a desk cluttered with notebooks and pens, was a girl with striking silver hair. Her posture was rexed but focused as she scribbled something with intense tration. The soft scratg of her pen filled the otherwise quiet room. She seemed oddly familiar, her features resembling someohat kept haunting my dream. However, there was something different—she looked much youhan the college cssmate I remembered, almost like a high school version of her.“Furukawa Shiro…?” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to hear me.I could see her head twitch ever so slightly at the sound of my voice, a subtle rea that firmed she had heard me. Yet, despite my quiet utterance, her gaze remained fixed on the desk in front of her. Her pen tio glide across the paper, the faint scratg sound filling the stillness of the room.It was as if she was deliberately avoiding looking at me, choosing io immerse herself in whatever she was writing. The air grew heavier with an unspoken tension, and I couldn’t decide if I should say something more or let the silerety heart pounded in my chest, unsure of what her rea—or ck of o.

  I stood up from the bed, my legs feeling slightly shaky beh me. My eyes drifted toward a mirror hanging on the wall. Hesitant, I stepped closer, almost afraid of what I might see. But there it was—my usual self staring back at me. Not Mashiro’s silver hair, pink-tipped ears, or frilly dress. Just me. My ordinary refle. The girl I was before all of this began.“What... are you doing there?” I asked, my voice shaky as I looked at Furukawa Shiro.She didn’t even turn her head, her silver hair falling softly over her shoulders as her gaze remained fixed on the desk. Without missing a beat, she replied, “Homework.”Not knowing what to do, I let my eyes wander aimlessly around the room. A guitar leaned against the er, its polished surface refleg the faint glow of the desk mp. Nearby, a vase of delicate flowers sat on a shelf, their uted in the dim lighting. My gaze shifted to a colle of anime figurines arranged meticulously on another shelf, eae standing proudly as though guarding the spa her shelves, my eyes fell on a familiar ball. My breath hitched as I reized it. It was the same oherine had shown me before, ba the other world. The swirling designs, the faint shimmer when light hit its surface, everything about it was the same.I took a hesitant step closer, almost afraid that the ball might vanish if I reached for it. My fingers hovered near its surface, but I didn’t touch it. Instead, I simply stared, as if it might reveal some hidden truth to me if I looked hard enough."What... is this doing here?" I muttered, my voice barely audible.Finally, Furukawa Shiro turned her head, her gaze nding on me as I stood frozen in front of the ball. There was a subtle shift in her expression, an unreadable glint in her eyes. It was as if she was assessing whether I was about to do something reckless or if she simply didn’t waoug her belongings.“It’s called Astralyte Core,” she said, her voice heavier than usual, as if the topic carried some weight. “A friend gave it to me for my birthday. It’s just a souvenir from one of those anime ventions.”I reached out tentatively, mimig the same motion I had made with Catherine's ball earlier. The moment my fingers made tact with the crystal, a strange hum vibrated through my hand. Almost immediately, a wall of text materialized in front of me, as if summoned by the touame : Shimizu MikanLevel : 1 (EXP 75/100)Css : Gacha PyerAge : 19Race : Human[STATS]Health Points : 100/100 [100%]Mana : 20/20Physical Attack : 10 (+3)Magical Attack : 0Defence : 2Agility : 12

  [SKILLS]Identification Lv. 1 (on), The Circle of Butterflies Lv. 1 (Legendary), Swallowtail Butterfly Lv. 1 (Rare)

  [TITLE]Gacha Addibsp;

  [ONS]
  Her mother opened her mouth as if to say something but hesitated, the words catg ihroat. Instead, she forced a halfhearted smile, her chopsticks slowly lifting a piece of tamagoyaki to her lips. The faint ctter of utensils against ptes filled the room as an awkward siletled between them.

  They ate in near silehe warmth of the diable dulled by unspoken thoughts. Meanwhile, I stood there, staring at them absentmindedly. The soft glow of the overhead light cast gentle shadows oable, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. I didn’t know what to do—or where I belonged in this strange se.

  “Thanks for the food,” Furukawa Shiro muttered as she stood, her silver hair swaying lightly with the motion. She began colleg the empty ptes with a calm precision, her fareadable.

  As she turo leave, her mother’s voice broke the brief silence. “Oh, Shiro, don’t fet to take the ko the kit. I left it oable.”

  Furukawa Shiro paused for a moment, then nodded, silently pig up the knife along with the ptes. Her movements were swift and purposeful as she hurried toward the kit.

  I stood frozen in the hallway, caught between the dining room and the kit, unsure of where to go or what to do. Her steps echoed faintly as she ehe kit.

  Then, without warning, her voice cut through the quiet like a bde. “Get out of my head,” she hissed, her tone sharp and full of anger. Before I could react, she spun around, her eyes bzing with something I couldn’t prehend, and sshed at me with the knife she’d been holding. The ptes cttered against the ter as they slipped from her grasp.