He had no idea how much time had passed.
In the past, during this silent slumber, he would always have many ancient dreams. In those dreams, he watched experiences that felt both strange and familiar from an observer's perspective, as though browsing through another version of his own life. Though he forgot most of them upon waking, he could quickly remember them again within his dreams.
He felt that his dreaming self and his waking self were two different people.
But after this latest time...
He found that he no longer dreamed of those dazzling experiences.
At last.
After who knew how long, he finally awoke amid waves of splitting pain in his head. He opened his eyes, pressed a hand to his forehead, and climbed out of bed.
The wind outside rustled the curtains and brushed across his cheeks, bringing a faint chill.
He forced his eyelids wider.
Yet he discovered that the Resurrection Progress, which had hovered before his eyes like a brand ever since his previous awakening, was gone. It no longer obscured his vision, as though it had never appeared at all. For a while, he simply sat there in a daze.
His head hurt terribly.
He instinctively surveyed his surroundings.
Then he staggered out of bed.
He shoved open the tightly closed doors.
Dazzling light pierced through the doorway, making him instinctively raise a hand to shield his eyes. By the time his eyes adjusted to the brightness outside, he felt, in his daze, as though he had entered a dream once again.
Bustling streets, swaying Soul Lamps, the Black Mist still roiling overhead as always, and countless Night Doctors wearing Plague Doctor Masks crossing the square. Before the doors, he saw those two enormous, familiar heads. He saw his Uncle White Night holding documents