It's midnight in Kyoto. A lawyer bolts upright from his slumber in a traditional eight-tatami room. Another dream about dbrand. It's always the same: they anger his corporate overlords with a new product launch. Once again, he's powerless to stop them. These dreams are getting more frequent. They always end with bloodcurdling screams. He's finally beginning to understand why his wife left him. Still groggy, he reaches for his phone. Twenty emails and eleven missed calls - all of them are about dbrand's new Killswitch case. Had he actually woken up, or is he still dreaming? He remembers a way to check: inside a lucid dream, you can't see your own reflection. He stumbles towards the bathroom in search of a mirror. He flicks on a light and peers into his own eyes. They look impossibly tired. Before he can fully comprehend the depths of his own sadness, he hears a quiet whirring behind him. He turns from the mirror to get a better look. The lawyer is never heard from again.
