Wynalias

“Is your body truly your own?”
Yuer thought she was just an ordinary fifteen-year-old girl—until her left hand started writing on its own.
Perfect handwriting. Precise strokes. Like someone trained for years.
But she never practiced using her left hand.
She thought it was just a mistake, until the dreams came—visions of a life she had never lived.
She thought she was still in control, until one day, her hand scrawled something across the page:
“You finally noticed.”
Who is she sharing her mind with?
What happens when two minds occupy the same body?
As her memories blur and reality begins to distort, Yuer must uncover the truth before she loses herself entirely… or becomes someone else.

Dual Consciousness

Fragments of a Dream

Yuer opened her eyes and found herself standing in an unfamiliar room.

The soft glow of amber light filled the space. A world map hung on the wall, a desk cluttered with notebooks and a steaming cup of tea. She glanced down at herself—

A familiar uniform. White blouse, blue skirt. Plain, simple, utterly unremarkable.

Who designed this? It's so ugly.

The thought struck her so suddenly that she froze. Since when did she care about uniforms? She had never been the type to dwell on appearances, let alone judge her own school attire.

The scent of wood lingered in the air—warm, yet uncomfortably suffocating.

Her uniform was gone. Instead, she wore a perfectly fitted black suit. Her fingers—long, slender, precise—moved with practiced ease as she flexed them.

These are not my hands.

A flicker of movement in the mirror caught her attention. Instinctively, she looked up.

A girl stood there, staring back at her with dark, unwavering eyes. Calm, composed, unreadable.

Black hair, cold expression, restrained demeanor.

She parted her lips to speak, but the girl in the mirror did the same. Their voices overlapped—

The sound was distant, distorted, as if submerged in water.

The Edge of Illusion

Yuer jolted awake, her forehead damp with sweat.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as if she had been pulled out of deep water. She gasped, taking in short, shallow breaths, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, the remnants of the vision lingering behind her eyelids.

She hadn't been watching Takeda.

Outside, the first light of dawn crept through the window. Her desk remained untouched, her journal still lying open from the night before. The words scrawled on the page remained unchanged.

"...I want to know, too."

Yuer traced the ink with her fingertips. The moment her skin brushed the paper—

She saw words scribbled across the blackboard—strange, unfamiliar characters.

She blinked, and they vanished. The blackboard returned to normal, filled with her teacher's usual messy chalk scrawls—

Words she could actually understand.

Instinctive Actions

During lunch break, Yuer absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the desk, her mind still trapped in the lingering haze of that dream.

She looked up, realizing that Cher and Ball were both staring at her.

"What's with you?" Cher asked, tearing open a straw for her drink. "Did you sign up for next year's tuition classes yet?"

Without thinking, Yuer replied, "Yeah, I did."

Cher raised an eyebrow. "For real? I thought you said you didn't need extra classes for high school?"

She had said that. She hadn't planned on taking tuition classes next year. She was confident she could manage by herself.

Yet… she had filled out the form.

She could remember writing her name down, signing the sheet, her hand moving with practiced certainty—

A cold sensation crept into her stomach.

That was not a decision she would have made.

Do Not Expose Yourself

That voice echoed in her mind again—calm, composed, almost oppressive in its logic.

"Do not let others notice your abnormalities."

Yuer's fingers instinctively clenched the fabric of her uniform.

Takeda's voice resided in her mind as if it had always been there, as if it belonged to her own thoughts.

She wanted to protest, but no words came.

She took a deep breath, forced a casual expression, and turned to Cher with a smile. "What choice do I have? My mom's making me go."

Cher let out a dismissive "Oh" before taking a sip of her Yakult, uninterested in pressing further.

Yuer's fingers were damp with sweat.

But she no longer knew if the decision had been hers—

Lingering Fragments