This extra chapter is written to celebrate the completion of the original story. I wanted to explore a “what if” scenario—what if Nora and Tim had met during their college years instead?
In this version, I’ve also adjusted Nora’s abilities. The story mainly revolves around her traveling into different movie worlds, so the tone is much lighter compared to the main storyline.
I’m still in the process of deciding which films would be the most suitable for her to enter.
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Nora sat in a university lecture hall.
Rows of wooden tiered seats stretched upward, one after another. The air conditioner hummed softly, carrying with it the faint scent of wood and old books. She placed her bag at her feet, her fingertips lightly pressing against her knees, her gaze resting on the figures moving back and forth in front of the podium.
Today was her first day of college.
Voices spread through the room like a rising tide—laughter, conversations, the scraping of chairs—all blending together. It was unfamiliar, yet full of life. She sat quietly, not joining any group, simply occupying her own space, as if that alone could carve out a small pocket of stillness within the noise.
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Nora was a supernatural.
Her ability resembled the legendary creature, the dream-eating Baku.
In folklore, the Baku slips into people’s dreams, silently devouring nightmares—the kind that wake you in terror—chewing away fear piece by piece until only calm, peaceful sleep remains.
But unfortunately, the legend only got half of it right.
The Baku does enter dreams, and it does deal with nightmares—but it doesn’t simply “eat” them. For Nora, it was more like an exhausting job. She had to navigate chaotic, unstable dreamscapes, sorting through distorted fragments to keep the dream from collapsing entirely.
And when it was over, she could take something from the dreamer.
That thing would be pulled out of the dream and become real—existing physically in her hands.
Nora had never liked that part.
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She didn’t lack anything.
Nightmares alone were already troublesome enough. They had no logic, no rules. They twisted with emotion in an instant—one moment a dark corridor, the next an endless ocean. She had to maintain some semblance of stability within that chaos, which was already irritating enough.
Worse still, dreams revealed things they shouldn’t.
The subconscious of the dreamer.
Something deeply private.
Too real. Too exposed.
Nora had no interest in any of it.
She didn’t want to know what people truly feared, or what desires and secrets they buried the deepest. Those things clung to the dream, leaving behind a residue that was hard to shake off—even after she woke up.
And the things she brought back?
They were even more of a headache.
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Sometimes it was a scrap of paper with nonsense scribbled on it.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWpWb48nI9O
Sometimes it was a meaningless object she couldn’t throw away.
They came from dreams into reality, carrying a quiet sense of wrongness—as if they didn’t belong in this world.
And somehow, they always ended up becoming her problem.
Even worse—
She couldn’t control whose dreams she entered.
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Her ability wasn’t stable.
That “freedom to choose a target” described in legends? For her, it was nothing more than a vague tendency. She couldn’t choose. She couldn’t refuse.
She only knew one thing—
She was very likely to enter the dreams of people nearby.
Especially nightmares.
Back in high school, she had learned everything—whether she wanted to or not.
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Who hated whom.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ74nJP9uUth
Who smiled on the surface, but broke down in their dreams.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡucikM4UOZp
Who carried secrets they could never say aloud.
None of it was information she wanted—but it kept forcing its way into her mind.
So she learned to control her expression during the day.
When friends laughed, she had to pretend she knew nothing.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCieGk96qhD
When certain topics came up, she had to react like a “normal person”—not too much, not too little.
Especially when she had seen something too private.
In those moments, she had to remind herself—
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Don’t let them notice anything.
Maintaining that sense of “normal” slowly exhausted her.
So she began to shrink her social circle.
Then she avoided deeper relationships.
Eventually, she started rejecting any possibility of letting people get close.
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Before entering college, she had already decided on a clear persona for herself:
No unnecessary social life.
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Don’t let anyone get too near.
She gave a small nod to herself.
As if confirming the decision.
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While Nora was silently planning the next four years of her life, she continued listing rules in her head—
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No exchanging contact information.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ85NKDMhg9d
No joining groups.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH9Uidmxpq9
No leaving any impression that might make her memorable.
Just as she mentally placed the final period on her “college survival guide,”
the chair beside her suddenly scraped against the floor.
A short, sharp sound.
Nora froze slightly, her thoughts abruptly cut off. She instinctively turned her head.
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A guy was leaning forward, one hand on the back of the chair, the other hovering midair as if measuring the distance. His movements were quick, but deliberately slowed—like he was trying not to make too much noise.
“Excuse me, can I sit here?”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear, carrying a faint breathlessness—as if he had just rushed into the room.
Nora looked at him.
He was wearing a hoodie, slightly wrinkled, like he had grabbed it off the floor and thrown it on. A familiar logo was printed on it—Batman.
The black emblem stood out sharply against his chest.
His hair was a little messy, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it.
And his blue eyes were looking at her.
A clean kind of blue. Bright, but not overwhelming.
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But the most impossible thing to ignore—
were the dark circles under his eyes.
They were deep. Almost unnaturally so, like they had been painted on.
They gave his entire face a strange, lingering exhaustion.
Nora’s gaze paused for a moment—
then she looked away.
She glanced around the lecture hall.
It wasn’t large, but nearly every seat was taken. Some people were still standing in the aisles, looking for a place. The noise had grown louder—everyone greeting each other, talking about classes. The air felt a little stuffy.
No wonder there were no seats left.
This was a general education course—Film Appreciation. She had checked the reviews before enrolling. As long as you submitted the assignments, the professor usually gave high grades. The class was easy, no exams, very popular.
So the crowd wasn’t surprising at all.
Nora pulled her gaze back and looked at him again.
“Of course.”
Her voice was calm, without any extra emotion.
The guy visibly relaxed. His shoulders dropped slightly, like he had finally found somewhere to sit. He quickly pulled the chair out and sat down, his movements a little rushed—like he was afraid someone might take the seat if he hesitated.
After sitting down, he didn’t adjust his posture.
Instead, he leaned forward and dropped his face straight onto the desk, resting on his left arm.
He turned his head slightly, cheek against his sleeve, facing Nora.
Those blue eyes met hers again.
“Hi. I’m Timothy Drake. Computer Science. Nice to meet you.”
His voice was lower now, muffled slightly against the desk, but still polite.
He extended his right hand.
Palm open, suspended between them.
His blue eyes didn’t move.
They stayed on her.
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Nora looked at the dark circles under his eyes.
Up close, they were even more obvious—like the marks left behind by long-term sleep deprivation. Her gaze lingered for a moment, then slowly drifted downward.
She reached out her hand.
Her hand was much smaller than his.
Her fingertips hesitated for just a split second before lightly touching his palm.
“Nora Virel. Early Childhood Education.”
Her voice remained steady.
For that brief moment their hands touched, his was warmer than she had expected.
Then they let go.
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The boy who had introduced himself as Timothy smiled.
It was a short smile, but relaxed—like he had just completed something necessary.
“You can call me Tim.”
His tone was more natural now.
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At that moment, footsteps sounded from the front of the room. The professor walked in.
The microphone on the podium gave a slight echo, and the chatter in the room gradually quieted.
Nora gave Tim a small nod.
A subtle gesture.
Like a simple ending.
At the same time, both of them turned their heads forward, facing the podium.
Their attention shifted away from each other and back to the class.
At that moment, neither of them knew—the gears of fate had already begun to turn.
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When the professor announced that they would need to work in pairs, a thought immediately flashed through Nora’s mind—Great. Just great.
She hated group work.
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It meant, to some extent, letting another person step into the rhythm of her life.
Every single part of it stepped directly on the rules she had just set for herself.
She frowned slightly and couldn’t help but glance at Tim.
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She had thought he would already be asleep.
The way he had been lying on the desk earlier, combined with those heavy dark circles—he looked like he could fall into deep sleep at any moment.
But now—
his expression clearly said one thing.
Trouble.
His brows tightened just slightly, his lips barely moving, but the resistance was obvious.
Nora was a little surprised.
His eyes had been closed just a moment ago—she had thought he was already slipping into a dream.
But she hadn’t seen what she should have seen.
No glow.
That faint layer of light—the one that appeared around sleeping people—wasn’t there.
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That was part of her ability.
Whenever someone fell asleep, she would perceive a faint glow around them, like a marker—something that allowed her to locate the entrance to their dream.
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Nora’s gaze lingered on his face for a moment.
A faint flicker of doubt crossed her mind.
And then—
she noticed he was looking at her too.
Their eyes met in the air.
No words.
Just a brief exchange of glances.
Like they were confirming something.
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Then, under the desk—
their hands brushed lightly.
Not a handshake.
Just a quick, subtle touch.
Like a silent signal.
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Alliance formed.
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No announcement. No ceremony.
They both understood.
For this class, they would get through it together.
Their goal was the same—
survive.
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The professor began explaining the upcoming assignment.
The first task—
choose a film to analyze.
Then came the constraints:
— Before the year 2000.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhs7nkpYcqb
— Thematically groundbreaking.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjPTgkYoJu9
— Influential to the future of the film industry.
His voice echoed through the microphone, reaching every corner of the room.
Nora stared at the projected slides.
But her mind was completely blank.
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She tried.
She really tried.
But she had almost no mental list of movies.
This wasn’t her interest.
She was used to words and books—things you could read slowly, process gradually.
Not something that required sitting still for two hours watching images.
Movie titles barely existed in her mind.
Just a vague emptiness.
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When the class ended, she let out a quiet breath almost immediately.
She turned to look at her newly formed partner.
“What ideas do you have?” she asked directly.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4cvzr4N1qM
“I really don’t have any movie list.”
She didn’t try to hide it.
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Tim nodded.
“I’ll send you something.”
His voice was still slightly hoarse, like he hadn’t fully woken up yet.
“These are some films I really like. Watch them, then we can talk.”
His tone was natural.
Like he was already used to organizing things this way.
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Nora took out her phone.
The screen lit up.
She opened her messaging app.
They quickly exchanged contact information.
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His account popped up on her screen.
Her gaze paused on his profile picture.
A cup of coffee.
Just a simple cup of coffee.
No filters. No decorations.
Ordinary—
yet oddly casual.
Nora blinked.
Strange.
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But then again—
she wasn’t any more normal.
Her own profile picture was a Stray Sheep character.
A slightly goofy, slightly cute little sheep.
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She came to a simple conclusion in her head:
If both of us are weird, then no one is.
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She put her phone away.
Time was about up.
She still had to rush to her department’s orientation event.
It would probably be crowded.
She could already imagine the noise.
A faint resistance rose in her chest—
but she still stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder.
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She looked at Tim.
“I’ll finish the film, then we can discuss.”
Her tone was steady.
Like she was stating something necessary.
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Tim nodded.
Didn’t say anything else.
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Under the gaze of those blue eyes—she turned and left.
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Nora was in her dorm room.
She was alone. The other bed was empty, the blanket tossed messily on top of it—her roommate had gone out somewhere. Outside, the light was slowly fading. Evening crept in little by little, and the only illumination left was the cold glow of her computer screen against her face.
She sat there, unmoving.
She had just finished watching the film Tim recommended—
Ghost in the Shell.
And he had emphasized it specifically—the 1995 version.
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The screen was still on the ending.
The music continued to play.
A low, almost ritualistic melody spread slowly through the room, impossible to ignore. Something like melancholy lingered in the air, refusing to fade.
Nora didn’t turn it off immediately.
She just sat there, letting it play.
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For a moment, she didn’t know how to describe the film.
It was… unusual.
The visuals. The pacing. The dialogue.
Especially the dialogue.
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Her thoughts drifted back to the scenes she had just watched.
The film wasn’t just about technology.
It was about existence itself.
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Virtual experiences.
Dreams.
Things that happened inside the mind—things without physical form, yet so real they couldn’t be denied.
Did those count as existence?
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Existence itself seemed to be both illusion—and reality at the same time.
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As someone with the ability of a dream-eater, Nora had experienced far too many things in dreams that could never happen in reality.
Falling.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCHF1B2jZPo
Flying.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO36B8QRV85
Dying.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuL32xlqWIS
Being reborn.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoWmizQ8O52
Losing.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrm2yarlAID
Gaining.
All of those sensations were real.
At least—in that moment.
Those memories existed in her mind.
The dreamer might remember fragments… or forget everything the moment they woke up.
Wasn’t that just like the way films rewound time?
If all those experiences only remained in a single person’s mind—
then were those interactions real?
Or were they nothing more than reflections on water or images in a mirror?
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Dream research was incredibly difficult.
She had always known that.
Because dreams themselves were unstable.
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No reproducibility.
And more than that—
dreams were deeply private.
They weren’t just images. They carried emotions, fear, desire—even things the dreamer themselves refused to acknowledge.
Those things—
were never meant to be seen by others.
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But she always saw them.
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Nora lowered her gaze slightly.
She thought about the objects she had brought back from dreams—
those things that had crossed from fiction into reality.
If something from a dream could exist in the real world—
then did the boundary between the two still exist?
Or had it already blurred beyond recognition?
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She didn’t know.
She had no answer.
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The music was still playing.
She reached out and turned it off.
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The room fell silent.
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That silence made her thoughts sharper.
Clearer.
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She picked up her phone.
The screen lit up.
She opened her chat with Tim.
Her fingers paused above the keyboard—then began typing.
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She first gave a simple compliment about the film.
No exaggeration.
Just a straightforward—
it was really good.
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She paused.
The cursor blinked.
A few seconds passed.
Then she continued typing.
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“How can we know whether the information in our minds is real? I think that’s extremely difficult—especially when it overlaps with reality.”
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She checked her wording once.
Didn’t change anything.
And sent it.
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Elsewhere—
Tim was in the Batcave, processing data from his night patrol.
Cold-toned light reflected off his face, making the dark circles under his eyes appear even deeper.
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Then—
his phone chimed.
A short sound.
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His hand paused.
His gaze shifted slightly to the side.
He reached over, picked up his phone, and glanced at the screen.
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The moment he saw the name—
he smiled.
Just slightly.
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He lowered his gaze to read the message.
Under the glow of the screen, his blue eyes seemed a little brighter.
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Then his fingers moved across the keyboard.
He typed his reply.
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“Then you have to pay attention to when the nue cries.”122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxGrXrFWDV3
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and then Add to home screen.