In this house, I know not how large it is.

New rooms that belong to a person or not.

​

A human entity with a rabbit mascot mask covered in splashes of blood sits upon a recliner, holding a book whose author's name I have forgotten, but I know who it is.

​

"Morning, Souma," the sign the person held read, "did you sleep well?"

​

I look unto myself, almost like going into third-person mode, and I see that aside from my hair, my head has been covered in bandages. It was odd, as nobody had acted like this was perfectly fine.

​

"Yeah," I say, yet my mouth does not move and I sit on the couch near the person.

We 'talk' about literature, but then I notice that the mascot-esque mask was off, revealing the person to be female.

​

It was an enjoyable talk, but this entire thing was a bit odd.

​

The house did feel quite familiar as if it was home, yet this person was new, along with a new room that I had explored as I did with the rest of the house.

​

"Who are you?" I ask.

​

"You've always known me," she replies with the sign as usual, "for I am a part of this place."

​

In this house, I know not how large it is.
New rooms that belong to a person or not.
Yet I know I have been here more than once.