10: My Rules

When Tom saw the picture book sitting on his desk, he immediately dove under the covers and pulled the blanket over his head.
Following his own set of “My Rules,” he began muttering like a chant:

“Priority list: ① Get dressed, ② Eat breakfast, ③ Drink milk… No, that should be number two…”

His usual superpower of quick thinking wasn’t kicking in. Sweat started forming on his forehead.

“Action over thought!! First, wash my face!!”

He leapt out of bed, sprinted down the stairs, and dashed into the bathroom.
Scooping up water from the running faucet, he splashed it onto his face until it stung his eyes.
Just like Rena used to say, “Momentum is justice”—and that had become Tom’s second mantra, a trick to snap himself back to calm.

“Two straws for speed-drinking… after I change, next is…”

Even on mornings when he overslept, he never skipped his milk.
He stuck two regular-sized straws into a milk bottle and chugged it down.
Skipping breakfast, he hurried back upstairs and changed into his school uniform.

“I’m a novelist… No, I am the novelist—right here, right now.”

To live out his ideal future self, Tom always wore his uniform even on his days off.
It was a kind of self-hypnosis, and it had become his greatest weapon.

“I’m taking this book to the park… and getting rid of it.”

Tucking the book under his arm, Tom calmly prepared to head out, doing his best to keep the waves of fear from last night at bay.
Then he stepped out the door.

“Stay calm… It’s nothing special. Just a walk to the park, like always.”

To Tom, the park on a day off was an irreplaceable energy source.
As far as he was concerned, it was the best entertainment nature could offer—and a crucial part of his routine.

“I won’t read this book. I won’t open it.
Even if it’s not mine—even if it was delivered to me by mistake—
I’ll leave it behind for the sake of self-preservation.”

He repeated the words, perhaps a little dramatically, imagining what he’d do.
He wasn’t planning to destroy the book, just… leave it on a bench.
That same bench where he’d sat with the officer last night,
where that mysterious, blinding light had burst from the puddle beneath.

“This is it… This bench is where you belong. Make some new ‘friends,’ okay?”

Without looking at it, Tom gently placed the book on the corner of the bench.
He didn’t check which side was the front or back—he just let go.
And with that, the weight on his heart lifted instantly.

“Phew… Everyone experiences something weird once or twice in life, right?
Yeah… I’ll get a tuna sandwich from the food stand, sit on my usual bench, and maybe get some good story ideas.
It’s a nice day… Something will come to me.”

Rena’s smile suddenly flashed in his mind.
Until now, his thoughts had been consumed by the frightening events of the previous night,
but deep down, what worried him most was her safety.
Still, that thought was quickly pushed aside by a stronger sense of unease.

(① The officer regained his senses and thought the book was mine, so he returned it.
② That black shadow took control of the officer again… and it’s after me.)

Tom began to slowly reopen the lid of those memories from last night.
But his instincts resisted, switching his focus before the fear could take hold.

“Pandora’s box, huh… Maybe I’ll use that for my next story.”

Turning the trauma into inspiration, the young novelist left the mysterious “picture book” behind—
and walked away, never once looking back.