The room carried a faint scent of wood and freshly printed books. Yet the dominant fragrance still came from the essential oil diffuser placed on the table beside the entrance.

Two people sat facing each other. The man wore a refined brown suit paired with a smoky purple tie patterned with delicate motifs. He sat with his legs elegantly crossed. His face looked as though it had been sculpted-sharp, precise, and exquisite. His eyes were fixed intently on the person across from him.

A young girl sat opposite him. Her naturally black hair fell slightly disheveled around her shoulders. Her striking blue eyes suggested she might be of mixed heritage. Yet there was an unmistakable heaviness of sleep deprivation in her expression-dark circles clearly visible beneath her eyes, her gaze dull and unfocused as she stared blankly ahead.

Unlike him, she sat cross-legged, holding a reddish-brown pillow he had given her in her arms. She leaned lazily against it, resting her head on its surface.

- Dr. Lecter. Have you ever killed anyone?

A clear voice rang out-childlike in tone, yet completely devoid of emotion.

===============

About a week earlier.

Once again, Aifex Noah dreamed that dream.

- I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry! I'm sorry...

A voice filled with terror and frantic apologies echoed endlessly.

That monster stood before her. It kept staring, as if observing an especially fascinating prey.

A Wendigo.

A creature of the deep forest, a symbol of greed and evil. A flesh-eating demon.

She kept screaming apologies over and over.

Yet her hands held a knife, chopping piece after piece on the table in front of her. On it lay a human body.

---------

- A!!! No, I'm sorry! I'm sorry... It wasn't me, it was it- that monster! It was it, it was it...!

She curled up in the corner of the bed, trembling violently. Sweat drenched her body as her hollow, bruised eyes refused to look anywhere but her own hands.

----------

- How long has he been like this? I'm really worried about him.

A blonde-haired girl asked the brown curly-haired boy beside her.

- I'm not really sure. It started before I even met him. But this is the worst I've seen it.

Both of them looked anxiously toward Aifex Noah. She was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, nodding off from sleep deprivation.

- I think we should take him to a psychiatrist. He deserves to live better...

=========

Two days later.

She stood in front of the address given to her by Alexia-the blonde-haired friend. After scanning her surroundings once, she lowered herself onto the provided waiting chair and leaned back in exhaustion.

"About five more minutes... Alexia said so."

Her phone in her pocket vibrated, a message arriving.

[Did you arrive yet? The doctor there is very reputable. Don't worry, okay? You'll go back to living a normal life soon!!!] - Alexia.

The door suddenly opened.

A man stepped out wearing a deep blue suit and a striking red tie. A faint, courteous smile rested on his lips as he greeted her politely.

- Aifex Noah? Please, come in.

She followed him into the room.

It was tastefully refined-bookshelves lined densely with books, a neatly organized desk, and chairs that were visibly designed for comfort.

She sat in the indicated seat, yet something felt missing. After a brief pause, she spoke.

- Dr. Lecter?

Hannibal, seated opposite her, tilted his head slightly, signaling her to continue.

-Do you have a cushion?

A strangely specific request. He considered it for a moment.

- If that would make you more comfortable during your therapy session.

His deep voice carried a faint trace of amusement.

When she was handed the reddish-brown cushion, she hugged it and rested her head against it, her eyelids growing heavy. It seemed she had almost forgotten his presence entirely.

Hannibal said nothing, simply observing her.

After about a minute, he broke the silence.

- You seem sleep-deprived. Are they nightmares?

He paused briefly, giving her time to fully register his words.

- Nightmares are manifestations of the inner self. When they persist as fear-inducing experiences, they often originate from within-though sometimes, from external influences as well. They are what haunt the human mind.

- I'm not particularly fond of philosophy... but yes, it was a terrible dream.

She cut him off without hesitation, showing no restraint.

- Is that the main cause? Or just one of many things you're experiencing?

As he spoke, his gaze remained steady-not out of fascination, but pure clinical observation.

- Recurring nightmares, frequent hallucinations requiring suppressant medication, prolonged sleepwalking, temporary memory loss, episodes of loss of behavioral control...

She paused briefly, considering further.

-That was the previous doctor's assessment.

She nodded as if confirming her own thoughts.

- Previous?- He asked.

She thought for a moment.

- About three years ago.

- A long time. So you've experienced this before as well?

She went silent for a long time, as though carefully weighing her answer.

- When I was... in college. About six years ago.

He tapped his fingers lightly, watching her for a long moment.

Yet she never once looked at him-not when she entered the room, not during the conversation, not even briefly.

- You seem to avoid eye contact. Not just briefly... but entirely. With the person you're speaking to.

- It's a rather time-consuming task. And I'm lazy.

A faint smile touched his lips. Now, she seemed to have caught his interest.

- So then-your symptoms? Let's start with the dreams.

=====