Johnny's words plunged Will into deep thought. In Will's eyes, there was indeed something strange about the situation. The recurring nightmare—could it be that some force or entity was subtly influencing Johnny? Will was unsure, for with his current knowledge, he could not fully comprehend what was happening.
"Did you begin having these nightmares only after you contracted the disease?" Will asked in a hushed voice.
"No, actually, I've been having these nightmares since I was very young, though the memories from my childhood are quite vague. But after I fell ill, the nightmares became increasingly vivid and real," Johnny replied.
"That's peculiar," Will said, his voice rising slightly.
"What's the matter?" Johnny asked.
"If these nightmares are connected to your illness, then it would stand to reason that you couldn't have had them before you got sick. But you've been having them all along," Will explained, his voice laced with a hint of realization.
"Yes, you're right!" Johnny exclaimed, his expression suddenly brightening as if a veil had lifted from his mind.
"Now think back to what your mother said. She mentioned that this mysterious disease appeared in Rem Town about ten years ago, and that many people contracted it, but she never mentioned that the afflicted would experience nightmares," Will continued in a low, serious tone. Johnny, sitting in the corner, listened intently, fully engaged in Will's analysis.
"From this, we can infer that not everyone who contracts the disease will necessarily fall ill, and that the disease may not be contagious. After all, your father had it, yet your mother didn't. Also, consider what the innkeeper told me. He once lived in Rem Town and also fell victim to the disease, and I think he mentioned he had nightmares too. I overlooked this detail earlier. Then a man in purple robes found him, prayed for him, and told him the plague was a punishment from God, advising him to leave Rem Town and never return." Will continued.
"God is punishing Rem Town? Why? I always thought Rem Town was the best place in the world," Johnny said, puzzled.
"Johnny, think. Wasn't it around ten years ago that you first started having these nightmares?" Will pointed at Johnny, urging him to recall.
"That was so long ago… let me think," Johnny said, lowering his head in contemplation.
"Yes! I think so. I was twelve at the time. The first time I had that nightmare, I was so scared I wet the bed. My mother even scolded me for being twelve and still wetting the bed," Johnny suddenly exclaimed.
"That's it! So, your illness didn't just start now. You must have contracted it ten years ago," Will said with great certainty.
"But why didn't I die?" Johnny asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Well, this is the part I haven't figured out yet. Do you remember how your father looked when he passed away?" Will asked gently.
"My father... I think he died in his sleep. My mother found him the next morning; by then, he had no breath left, and his face was twisted in agony," Johnny said, rubbing his temples as the painful memory resurfaced, even more unbearable due to the fact he had gone without food for six days.
"Could your father have died from the nightmare itself?" Will asked cautiously.
"Maybe," Johnny whispered.
"If that's the case, it all makes sense. The reason you didn't die is because your memory was still hazy at the time, so you weren't terrified to death by the nightmares. But the others who perished—perhaps they were frightened to death by their dreams," Will explained, his voice soft but firm.
Johnny didn't respond. It seemed he had no answer, for Will's theory seemed highly plausible, even likely.
"Now, the remaining mystery is: who are these people in purple? What role do they play in all of this?" Will murmured.
"Ten years ago, they appeared in Rem Town and warned the afflicted innkeeper to leave. Now, they are back in Rem Town, and they have locked you up in the basement of this church."
"Ah! This is maddening! We still can't figure out what these purple-clad figures are really after!" Will exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice.
"Could they be looking for test subjects?" Johnny suggested.
"Test subjects?" Will asked, confusion settling over his features.
"Yes. Perhaps the plague ten years ago was their doing. They wanted to see how many people would survive it. And now, ten years later, they are seeking out the survivors," Johnny reasoned.
"That's a possibility. But if they're conducting experiments, then why would they cure the innkeeper's disease?" Will asked, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Maybe," Johnny replied, his voice trailing off as he, too, struggled to answer.
"But one thing is certain: these purple-robed figures are definitely involved in this mystery," Will said, his tone resolute.
At this point, both men fell into silence. All the clues seemed to point to the mysterious purple-robed figures, but they were so elusive that Will couldn't even catch a glimpse of them. Just as they were lost in their thoughts, the heavy wooden door to the confinement room suddenly creaked open. Two figures in purple robes stepped inside. One of them carried a black cloth bag and shackles.
The two purple-clad figures slowly approached Johnny. One seized Johnny's arms, while the other quickly placed the black cloth bag over Johnny's head and fastened the shackles around his wrists.
"Hey, where are you taking him?" Will whispered urgently, but the two figures seemed completely unaware of his presence, ignoring him entirely.
...
After a long walk through unseen corridors, the two purple-robed figures finally halted. One of them removed the black cloth bag from Johnny's head.
What Johnny saw before him was a horrifying scene. It seemed he was standing on a platform in a large hall, surrounded by many purple-robed figures. He faced them, but not a single face was visible. The lighting in the hall was dim, with only two tall white candles on the platform providing illumination, leaving much of the room shrouded in darkness. Beside him was a large, thick wooden board, upon which lay a body. No, it couldn't be called a body, but rather a skeleton. The figure lying on the board was a corpse, though how long it had been dead was unclear. Behind Johnny, on the wall, was a strange symbol—a circle within which was a six-pointed star, drawn in blood.
"Is this the one?" A deep voice came from somewhere to Johnny's left. A tall, broad-shouldered man in purple robes spoke, his voice low and ominous. The two figures standing beside Johnny nodded in silent confirmation.
"Good. Then let's begin," the deep voice commanded.