(Collapse Level: when even your bones have external opinions)
I woke up on the floor.Stone floor.With a mouth so dry it felt like I'd fallen asleep swallowing the entire desert,and a tongue made of sandpaper soaked in existential dread.
Muscles: on strike.Back: folded like a cursed accordion.Brain: broadcasting in another language…with broken subtitles and automatic sarcasm.
—"What the hell was that? A dream? A vision? Bootleg Netflix with trauma included?"
I tried to stand.Spoiler: I failed.So I crawled.Like a retired gargoyle looking for its pension and a shred of lost dignity.
First I saw the altar.Still there.The book. Still there.The diamond.Also there, mocking me passively.
And the wall…
The wall now had an eye.Not painted.Carved.Embedded.Staring.
Not directly at me.But I felt it.Like when someone reads your Google search history and suddenly stops sharing dessert with you.
—"Alright, Renji… you entered a cursed pyramid. You touched a cursed gem. Now what?"
My brain: "Run!"My legs: "We haven't confirmed if we exist yet."
The room was no longer silent.Now there was a hum.Like someone had left the cosmic oven on low heat.The air grew heavier.More guilty.Like it knew something it didn't want to tell me… but was hinting at it passive-aggressively.
Then my mind started doing weird things.Whispers.Not in my ears. In my bones.Like my vertebrae were gossiping in interdimensional group chat.
One said:—"It touched us."Another replied:—"It's not complete yet."
And me, out loud:—"Okay, if this is some demonic ritual, can someone at least bring me a coffee? Or bread? Anything?"
I staggered out of the room.Hallway after hallway… each one different from the last.Like the pyramid was messing with me.
Type: "Let's see how long this human takes before peeing in a corner out of fear."Spoiler: I almost did.
Two hours later.Or two days.Or two alternate realities.No idea.
Sunlight hit my face like the universe was slapping me for surviving.
And there he was.The guide.Same guy.Smoking like he had a contract with gods who don't ask questions.
—"You alright?"—"Define 'alright'."—"Can you walk?"—"Barely."—"Mental stability?"—"…next question."
We got in the jeep.Me: sweating cold.Him: calm.Like someone who'd seen too much to be surprised anymore.
I asked:—"What is that place?"—"They call it 'the tomb of the eye that never sleeps'."—"Who buried it?"
He lit another cigarette.—"A pharaoh who saw too much… and didn't want the world to see it too."
I didn't reply.What was I supposed to say?"Thanks for the 4x4 tour through hell"?"Wanna hear how the wall eye whispered my name like we were in some cosmic forbidden romance"?
Spoiler: he already knew.
Back at the hotel.I climbed the stairs like someone entering their tomb… with minibar.Walked past reception, gave a half-smile like a man who's seen God in a bathrobe and unshaven,and opened the door to my room.
And then I saw it.
The documents.
Before I left, they were neatly stacked.Now they were on the floor.But not "thrown around" in a chaotic mess.No.Dispersed.Organizedly chaotic.
And hanging from the ceiling, by a rusted chain worthy of low-budget possession films…a showerhead.Dripping over the papers.With the sadistic patience of a minor god of absurdity.
—"Perfect," I muttered.—"Now the universe is watering documents. What's next? Crying paper?"
I didn't try to dry them.Didn't touch them.Took off my shoes like a unionized zombie.Fell onto the bed.
And just as I felt the mattress trying to hug me in a suspiciously maternal way…I passed out.
Darkness.And in the darkness…the pyramid.