Sean remained conscious throughout the long fall. In the mindscape, reality and illusion were indistinguishable, and even the passage of time could not be grasped. Only the speed of his thoughts remained unchanged. No one knew how long had passed before he crashed heavily into a red-backed chair.
Professor Charles sat beside him. The two seemed to have been nailed firmly to their chairs, unable to move freely. Aside from a long black table, there were no other furnishings in sight. A hazy, gentle glow enveloped the space.
Sean turned to the right and saw pale-faced David seated beside him. As he appeared, more figures emerged in the chairs one after another—men, women, young, and old.
Unlike the uniform attire in the hospital, these people were dressed differently, and their identities could roughly be judged from their appearances alone: elite professionals in suits who constantly held mobile phones; rock musicians with lip rings, earrings, and tattoo-covered arms; violent, frenzied youths with freckled faces who never stopped roaring...
Such mental projections filled every seat. They were presumably personalities from deeper within David's consciousness. Sean sat composedly in his chair, curiosity in his eyes, while Professor Charles sank into thought without saying a word.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain quiet."
Once the various personalities had crowded around the long table, the hazy, gentle light suddenly dimmed into darkness. A blinding spotlight shone down, illuminating a bloated figure. This fellow, dressed like a television host, clearly did not belong to the human race.
It resembled a huge fat man wrapped in an expensive suit, with an enormous head that gave off a greasy, nauseating impression. Its narrowed little eyes reflected a chilling yellow light.
"Welcome, everyone, to David's world!"
The fat man held a microphone as his bloated body bounced about. Awkwardly imitating