I’m in the place I can never remember once the dream ends. I’ve received the Box from that person. “Just relax. Of course, there are some risks involved in this kind of thing, but it’s not what you’re thinking of. You aren’t going to lose something else you value, and it’s not going to steal your life or soul. Actually, the reason anyone ends up with those negative side effects isn’t necessarily an innate characteristic of the object, but rather the nature of the person using it. As long as you use it correctly, all it will do is grant your wish.” If I use it correctly… I wonder if that requirement is actually as simple as it sounds. I have no idea. I don’t know about any of that, but I do know this is an exceptional condition, even with all those risks attached. It’s the same as receiving a lottery ticket certain to win. It’s definitely possible that winning a huge sum of money could derail your life. But most people probably wouldn’t consider that to be the risk. That’s why I ask if there are any people who don’t accept the offer of the Box. “Why do you ask that?” Because someone is trying to reject it right now. “Are you getting cold feet? Maybe you don’t believe me? Or are you afraid of me?” All those reasons are true, in a way, but that isn’t really what this is about. All it boils down to is that I don’t need it. My wish is to continue in my average, ordinary life, and I already have that without using the Box. It’s like how someone with a trillion yen wouldn’t care much about the idea of receiving a hundred million. I know it’s valuable, which is precisely why I can’t accept it from someone I know nothing about. Yes, I know without a doubt that I returned the Box. That’s why… …even if I did wish for days of endless repetition to maintain the normalcy of my life, I am absolutely not the culprit.
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27, 753rd Time Scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch— What’s that sound? It’s so quiet, like you could completely miss it if you didn’t listen carefully. But the sound is coming from within me, and I absolutely shouldn’t ignore it. Scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch. It’s like someone’s using a tiny, tiny file, but what are they rasping away at? If the source of the sound is inside me, it has to be something within my body. Scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch. The sound is so small, but it seems like the loudest noise in the world, and I plug my ears out of instinct. Not even that keeps the insistent scratching at bay, though. That makes sense—actually, blocking my ears would make it easier to hear since it’s inside me. That’s why I can’t block the sound. I can’t escape hearing myself wearing away. It hurts, too. Being filed down is definitely painful. This is what it would feel like if my heart turned into a porcupine fish. A constant prickling sensation. Is it guilt? I thought that would be the first thing to go, but it’s proving unexpectedly persistent. Scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch. I’m being whittled away. My heart. All of who I am. I’m losing my shape, becoming a handful of sawdust. No, that isn’t right. I’m already…far beyond that point. I’m already nothing but dust. After twenty thousand repetitions, I’m no longer who I used to be. I know that. Unable to bear the tedium, my heart has slipped away. I can’t communicate meaningfully with others anymore. This world is rejecting me. That’s to be expected. I never belonged here to begin with, and I forced my way in. The classroom where everyone else exists has rejected me each time. The only thing I know for certain is how to make all of this better. But I will never, under any circumstances, do that. After all, my wish hasn’t been granted yet. …Wait. I thought I was already nothing but dust. Why is my wish still here, untouched? Is that even possible? It should have been ground down along with my heart and everything else that I am because, to tell the truth— —I can’t even remember what I actually wished for anymore. “Ha-ha-ha.” I can’t stop myself from laughing. That’s right. I can’t remember. Ha-ha-ha, I can’t remember. What did I wish for again? Hey, help me remember. Ha-ha-ha, don’t play around with me like this. Why did I torture myself by going through each repetition? All I can do is laugh. It’s all I can do, and yet I’ve even forgotten how. I’m just forcing the sounds through my expressionless face. If this is how it’s going to be, then let’s just end it. It’s the simplest conclusion. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? I should just kill him. That’s right—I should just end his life. I should kill Kazuki Hoshino. He’s the source of all my suffering, after all. If it would put an end to the pain, I should just finish him off right now. But somewhere deep within me, I know: The fetter that was once my wish will never let any of this end for me…