My Life as a Protector.

The Girl Who Became a Place.

She approached me with a blank expression on her face. "You shouldn't be here..." She said in a monotone voice, her words sending a shiver down my spine.

"Well, I'm here now," I responded awkwardly, trying to maintain a sense of composure despite the eerie atmosphere. "So, what now?"

The girl didn't answer immediately, instead taking her time to look at me, her eyes studying my every feature as if searching for something.

Finally, she spoke again, her voice even more emotionless than before. "This was a mistake..."

I felt a flicker of irritation at her cryptic words. "Stop being so vague," I blurted out. "What do you mean by 'This was a mistake' Can you explain what's going on?"

The girl's expression flickered with a brief hint of surprise at my directness, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by her usual, detached expression.

She paused for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. "It's... it's hard to explain," she mumbled, looking away.

"Try me," I said, growing more and more exasperated.

Looking around, I couldn't help but feel that there was something off about the place. The crumbling alleyway, the distant sounds, the girl's strange demeanor, and the air of wrongness that hung over everything like a heavy fog. None of it felt right, and I searched for some explanation, some clue as to what was going on.

"This place," I said, gesturing around us, "This isn't real, is it?"

The girl's emotionless eyes met mine for a moment, and I could have sworn that I saw a flash of something in them—recollection, perhaps? But before I could say anything, she spoke.

"You're wrong," she said simply, her voice flat. "I am the place."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt a jolt of realization run through me. This girl wasn't just any person; she was the manifestation of her own mind, her thoughts, her memories, everything that made her who she was. And somehow, I had been pulled into her mind, into her most private, innermost place.

I looked around again, feeling even more disoriented and confused. This wasn't real—this was her mind, her memories. And as I surveyed the crumbling alleyway around me, I couldn't help but notice how surreal and detached everything felt. This wasn't just a simple memory; it was like a faded, distant echo of something that had once been real.

"Is this what you actually look like?" I said quietly, almost to myself.

The girl's blank gaze met mine, and this time, I could see a flicker of something in her eyes—understanding.

"No, not really," she said tonelessly. "This is just a memory, a faint echo of something that was once true. A ghost, one might say."

I thought so. This girl was a manifestation of her own mind, a faint memory that had somehow reached out to me in my dreams.

I took a deep breath, trying to process everything that was happening. "Why have you been appearing in my dreams?" I asked, my voice laced with both curiosity and confusion.

The girl didn't respond immediately, her expression remaining blank and unreadable. After a moment, however, she spoke, her voice quiet and detached.

"I don't know," she said plainly. "It wasn't deliberate. It was like... like I was reaching out to you, looking for someone to hold onto. Like I knew you before..."

As I tried to make sense of it all, the girl continued, her voice still devoid of any emotion.

"It sounds strange, doesn't it? But in some way, it felt like I needed you. Like..." She trailed off, her eyes losing focus as she looked into the distance. I waited for her to continue, my heart beating faster as I anticipated her next words. Her expression seemed to hint at some deep, hidden thought, some secret revelation that she was trying to articulate but couldn't quite find the words for.