8: Don’t Turn the Page

“Who... are you... Officer!?”

Tom could barely get the words out through his fear, his voice shaking.
He yanked the officer’s hand off his shoulder.
As the officer stumbled backward, a bundle of thin straws slipped from his grasp and scattered beneath the bench, landing in a shallow puddle.

“Oh no, how terrible... Your precious straws have fallen.
Looks like they’re no good anymore.”

“What... What are you even talking about!?”

Tom’s voice trembled as he forced the words out, but this time he raised his tone.
The officer muttered something under his breath, then spoke clearly again.

“Now, now... Tom, was it? I’m not trying to scare you.
I just have... a small favor to ask.”

“A... favor?”

The officer’s voice had suddenly softened—gentle, even.
Tom felt more confused than ever, but somehow, his trembling began to ease.

“I’m fond of stories, you see.
I just... can’t stand not knowing how they end.”

That’s when Tom noticed it—in the officer’s hand, a thick, old book had appeared out of nowhere.
Its decorative cover was engraved with strange letters, and the edges of its pages were worn down.
It looked almost like an encyclopedia, but Tom knew, somehow—this was a picture book.

“...What is that book?”

“If you can tell it’s a picture book just by looking at the cover, then you’ve got a good eye.
And that means...maybe you and this book can become good friends.”

The officer slowly opened the book to the middle, then carefully turned it around and held it in front of Tom’s face.

“I just want to know what happens next. You should be able to see it...
So, tell me—what’s on the page?”

“F-O... L-L... Ugh—It’s in English!?”

Even now—even here—his hatred for English somehow overpowered his fear.
The sight of the letters filled him with disgust.
And yet...his hand, as if guided by something unseen, began to move toward the book.

“Yes... Touch the book, and you’ll grow even closer to it...”

The officer’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Bring this story to life...with your own hands…”

As he smiled, a black shadow began to rise from the corners of his mouth—taking form, slowly.

At first, it was like smoke.
But soon, it morphed into a humanoid shape, looming over Tom, ready to strike.

(Tom… don’t touch it…)

A voice—familiar and bright—burst into Tom’s ears. It shocked him awake.
A flash of golden light erupted from the puddle beneath his feet.

“Gahhh—!? That light...!!”

The radiant burst pierced through the shadow creeping toward him, turning the midnight dark into a blaze of daylight.
The officer collapsed onto the bench,the picture book falling from his hands.
Then, shaking slightly, he slowly returned to himself.

“Ugh... Wh-What was I doing...?
Oh, right... I was patrolling for suspicious people...”

He stood up, dazed, and glanced around like nothing had happened.

“What was that light... and that voice...?”

Tom stood frozen, unable to speak. The officer noticed, and gently called out:

“Hey, kid. It’s late. Go home, okay? And don’t come back here at this hour again.”

Behind him, the black shadow shimmered briefly—then vanished into the night like steam.
And though Tom wished with all his heart that what he had just seen was only a dream,
a part of him knew—This was real.

And that truth…was far more terrifying than any nightmare.