This time, she looked at him-just briefly.

- A moose. A Wendigo.

- A large deer and a flesh-eating monster?

His gaze followed hers, landing on a moose statue he had placed as decoration.

- The dream, repeatedly. A location, a forest, a monster, a table... and a human corpse.

- A corpse? On the table?

She gave a faint hum of confirmation.

- In my hands... there's a knife. I'm cutting the body into pieces. Nothing seems unusual. But...

She met his eyes directly, as if seeing the monster itself reflected in them.

- The Wendigo... it stares at me. It forces me to dissect the organs. And the corpse... it... it-

Her control began to slip. Her body trembled involuntarily.

- It's looking at me! No-no, I'm sorry! It's him, not-no, it's him... I'm sorry!

Hannibal moved instantly.

He grabbed her, checked her pupils, and placed a pen between her teeth to prevent her from biting her tongue. Swiftly, he searched her pocket, retrieved a suppressant, and administered it.

After a moment, the convulsions stopped. She collapsed into unconsciousness.

---

Once again, she dreamed.

But this time, it was different.

The forest no longer contained her.

It had reached the river.

Not an ordinary river-but one filled entirely with human corpses.

Across from her stood the moose. It tilted its antlers slightly, as if signaling her.

Then, one by one, the bodies in the river raised their hands... pointing directly at her.

Panic surged. She ran.

Back into the forest. She fell. Looked up.

And there it was.

The Wendigo.

- No!!!

She jolted awake, screaming. Her pupils were constricted as she frantically scanned her surroundings.

Hannibal sat beside her, calmly reassuring her.

- Noah, it's alright. This is the therapy room, not the forest.

He gently touched her face, brushing damp hair from her forehead.

She pushed his hand away lightly, exhaling in relief, though her breathing remained uneven.

- How long?

He glanced at the clock.

- Two hours.

She turned to him, a faintly uneasy expression on her face. He seemed to understand, and calmly handed her a glass of water.

- You're my last patient today. Don't worry.

She drank it all in one go. Her eyes drifted back into emptiness.

- This time it was different. A river full of corpses. They were all pointing at me. And... both of them appeared-the moose and the Wendigo.

Hannibal watched her carefully.

- It seems that meeting me has given you new dreams.

Noah looked at him. Perhaps she truly saw the monster in front of her-but she chose to dismiss it as hallucination. She reached for her medication and swallowed it.

- Today doesn't look promising. You should come more often. I can help you.

- People say that a lot. And it's been six years.

She looked at him coldly.

And he simply smiled back.

-------------

Three days passed. She met Hannibal frequently, telling him about the issues she usually experienced-except for a few she left unspoken.

Today was the fourth day.

- Did you sleep well yesterday?

She didn't respond, half-asleep as she leaned against the cushion.

- Seems not. And sleepwalking?

At that word-like a forbidden trigger-she straightened abruptly, fear flashing in her eyes.

- I... I...

He handed her a glass of water.

She bit her lip, then exhaled sharply.

- Last week... I sleepwalked. I wasn't in my room. I was somewhere... unfamiliar.

She recalled it, her voice trembling.

When she opened her eyes, she was in a pitch-dark room. Panic hit immediately as she looked around. Blood-everywhere. Stained across the floor, smeared on the walls. Even on her.

Her hands were soaked in red. Terrified, she ran. Ran out of that room.

- When I came to, I somehow ended up back home. And when I checked... I was completely clean.

Hannibal looked at her. Something flickered in his eyes-brief, unreadable-before disappearing.

- Seems like hallucinations accompanied by temporary memory loss.

She leaned back into the cushion again.

- Yes. Hallucinations. Just hallucinations.

He suddenly asked,

- Do you have any hobbies, Miss Noah?

She gave a faint laugh, as if it were a joke, but didn't answer.

- Do you like reading?

- Um.

- Watching films?

- Sometimes.

- Drawing?

- Occasionally.

- Video games?

Silence.

- Meeting people?

Still no answer.

- Bars? Volunteering? ...and so on.

He noted everything down in his notebook.

- How old are you? What do you do for a living? Where do you live? Do you have a boyfriend? And how many friends do you have?

- Is that necessary for therapy?

- It is.

His tone was firm.

- Twenty-six. Environmental data analyst. Lives in the Fexxi apartment. No boyfriend. Two friends.

- Very good. And family?

- Orphan.

Hannibal's lips curved slightly, as if something had just fallen neatly into place.

=========

Seventh day of therapy.

Noah met a man standing outside Hannibal's office. He wore a slightly faded white shirt, his curly hair messy and grown out. His face was scruffy with uneven stubble, glasses perched on his nose, his expression distracted.

She didn't pay him much attention and walked past him into the building. Lately, everything in her life felt like hell-mentally and professionally alike.

The man suddenly called out.

- Hello? Are you Dr. Lecter's patient?

She turned and nodded.

- Can we talk privately for a moment?

- Sure.

He hadn't expected her to agree so easily, but it was fortunate-otherwise this would've been difficult.

To her, it was nothing unusual. She still had time before her appointment anyway.

At a nearby café.

- Does Dr. Lecter often invite you to dinner?

- Who are you?

- I'm sorry. Will Graham.

- Aifex Noah. Yes, but I usually decline.

- Why?

She looked at him, slightly confused.

- Because I don't want to.

He didn't expect that answer, but felt somewhat relieved-at least she hadn't gone to his house.

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