Spring season. A week after buying the Cutterpillow
cassette tape, Dence wandered once again through Toyohashi Station, this time with his three wonderful kids, wearing a vintage Eraserheads Band Shirt. Quieter now, older in the eyes, carrying less but still feeling heavy sometimes. The chaos in the warehouse had scared him deeper than bruises could show ― and the sting of rejection still echoed in quiet moments.
He sat for a while near the Toyohashi South Station Square, watching his kids running around the vicinity, when a soft voice called out―not to him, but to the man sleeping on the bench beside him.
「兄貴一緒に食べますか?」
("Brother, shall we eat together?")
Dence looked at the corner, and saw a small group setting up a feeding program for the homeless Japanese people. Styro boxes, warm soup, bread, and gentle hands offering more than just a food. Leading them was a Filipino pastor, not young, not old, but with fire in his eyes that felt... familiar. The pastor smiled at Dence. Greeted in Tagalog.
"Hi! Ako nga pala si Isagani. Isagani Cruz. You play music?"
("Hi! By the way, my name is Isagani. Isagani Cruz. Do you play music?")
Dence (confused tone):"
Ha? Bakit n'yo po natanong?"
("Excuse me? Why are you asking?")Ptr. Isagani:
"That shirt. Eraserheads, right? Classic. Musicians usually don't wear that by accident."
Dence (hesitant):"I used to..." (Steering away from conversations about music)
"my name is Dence!"That short answer led to a longer conversation, then an invitation.
"We have a small community church near the station―AGM Church. Come visit. No obligation at all. But maybe music still has a place for you there."
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[Weeks passed]Dence and his children started attending the Sunday services at AGM Church, quietly at first. They stayed at the back, listened more than he spoke. His kids were in the separate room doing Sunday School. Until one day, the pastor surprised him with a gift: a classical acoustic guitar, simple but warm-sounding.
"It’s been entrusted to you. Use it for the ministry of music—when your heart is fully aligned, and heaven knows you're ready."It wasn't the black guitar. It had no power, no secrets. But it had peace.
Dence started playing again. Not for fame. Not for himself. Just enough to share hope during church worship. Kids would watch. Some old folks would nod along. His fingers began to remember joy.
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[One month later]More than six months since he last held his black guitar. While flipping through his old Bible. A small object slipped out―it was the black calling card
from the hooded character half year ago, unknowingly tucked in as a bookmark. He stared at it. Rounded eyes. Looking at the etched silver "#". And then―it glowed.
Suddenly, light flooded his vision. Not sunlight. Not divine.
But something fractured―fierce―raging.
A realm in ruins.
Flashes of chaos, smoke, a rubbled city ― a crumbling world tearing itself apart.
And in the distance ― Ere.
Weakened. Cornered. His once-blue glow now faint and flickering.
A war that had waged without a savior.
A realm without its guardian.
Then, silence.
Back in the church.
The vision ended. The black card slipped from his hand and landed softly on the Bible. But the symbol... was gone. The silver "#" had disappeared completely. Just an empty black surface now. The card had served its purpose. And from within his chest, he heard the words ― like a whisper, but unmistakable:
"The light will speak. But only when you listen."It was a voice from Ere that translate the message into something. It's a truth hidden in plain sight. The silver "#" on the black calling card is not just a symbol ― it's a signal from another realm. A whisper from Ere's world. A light encoded with a meaning.
Dence stared at it for a moment, then gently closed the Bible.
"That wasn’t the Mirror Realm."A pause. Breath caught between revelation and dread.
"It was somewhere else... Another realm. Shattered. Forgotten. Screaming for a savior."He knew what this meant.
The silence is ending.
(To be continued...)
(Next: The Moon and Constellation)
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