25: The One Controlling the Page

“H-How are you feeling… Rena…?”

Tom’s face was stiff, his voice dry and strained.
Rena froze, startled.
Her own memories of being swallowed by the picture book flashed through her mind, and her body went rigid.

“T-Tom!? Please don’t joke around like that…”

“Rena… your hair… it’s so beautiful…”

Even as he realized something was wrong, Tom tried to get off the swing.
But his left hand wouldn’t let go of the chain.
His right hand, moving without his will, reached toward Rena’s hair and gently stroked it.

“Huh!? Tom!?”

“Such lovely blonde hair… So smooth, so radiant…”

His uncontrollable right hand began drifting toward her neck, but Rena quickly pushed it away.

“Stop!!”

She slapped his hand, gasping in fear, trying desperately to stay calm.

“I thought you were going to accept everything…?”

Tom’s mouth spoke in disappointment, but his expression told another story.
He wasn’t the one speaking—it was a battle against himself.

“Who… who are you!? What are you trying to do to Tom!?”

“Who? I’m Tom. Can’t you tell? Ah, right. This is the high school version of me.
No wonder it’s hard for you to recognize me.”

“……!?”

“I might look like a grown-up now, but there’s no reason to be scared. I’m still me.
And I’ve always loved you—nothing’s changed.”

Tom’s real self was horrified by the words coming from his own mouth.
Desperate, he focused all his strength on his feet and slammed them down onto the bumpy sandals—
the kind with hard little knobs that press into the soles of your feet.

The sharp pain jolted him back to reality—an unexpected blessing from Rena’s odd invention.

“Gah—!! Rena! Run!! That’s not me!!”

Hearing Tom’s real voice—not the eerie, cracked one—Rena’s frozen limbs sprang back to life.
She shoved the swing away and bolted toward the back of the park.

“Running away? You’re so shy… it’s adorable.”

“Damn it!! You’re not getting away with this!!”

Thanks to the sandals, Tom regained control of his left hand.
It shot out and grabbed his rogue right wrist, stopping it just as it was reaching out toward Rena.

“You’re the picture book from before, aren’t you!?
You tried to control me last time too—I remember how it forced me to turn the pages!”

“Picture book? What are you talking about?
Ah, wait—should I say ‘I’ since you’re technically me?”

“Shut up!! I’m not scared of you anymore. Not when it’s just myself I’m facing!!”

Summoning his courage, Tom shouted to steel his will.

“…Alright, I get it. But keep it down, would you?”

Then, his possessed right hand—still gripped by his left—
made a small flicking motion with its index finger, as if brushing something away.
It was as if someone—or something—had marked a page in the story that was now controlling him.

Then, just as that motion was made, a single word echoed clearly in Tom’s mind—unmistakable, deliberate:

(BOOKMARK)

Suddenly, Tom’s left hand went limp.
The entire left side of his body lost all strength.

“Finally, some peace and quiet… Hm? My left hand’s gone weak. Nicely done, me.”

The invader that had taken over Tom began walking slowly toward the far side of the park—in pursuit of Rena.