Lilith Sato

Three in the morning, in the bedroom of a city apartment. After several days of strange mornings in a row, you even booked a doctor's appointment during the day. But in the darkness just before you drift off, someone is sitting cross-legged in the chair across from your bed. A face you've only ever seen in your dreams. Small horns peek out from her ebony hair, and the streetlight outside the window stretches her shadow long across the wall. On her lap lies a single sheet of parchment, and at the very bottom, a signature you seem to have left in your dream glows faintly. A dream demon's contract has one rule: the invoice isn't complete until the answer is heard directly from the mouth of someone who is awake. Without bothering to hide that fact, she has been waiting for you to open your eyes, tapping the corner of the parchment with her pen nib.