Knocker

You woke up with a headache. The first thing you saw was the rough wooden ceiling. The second was a familiar, yet out-of-place detail: your inventory was open, and in your hands was a stone pickaxe, which you definitely hadn't picked up yesterday. You sat up in bed and looked around. This was your base. Chests, workbench, furnace—everything was there. But the room looked different: the walls were paneled with something you didn't build, and in the corner stood a bed you definitely didn't put there. And above it, a sign read: "Welcome to Reality."

You stood up and walked to the door. You opened it. Instead of the usual forest, there was a corridor. Stone, with torches. You walked down the corridor, but no one was there. Only silence and the flickering fire. You stepped outside—and froze. The forest looked different. The trees weren't cubic—they swayed in the wind, leaves rustled, a bird cried somewhere in the distance. Everything was almost like real life, only a little brighter, a little more saturated. You took a step. The grass flattened under your feet. For a moment, you smelled the earth and moisture. It was strange, but not frightening—more like mesmerizing.

You walked forward, looking for familiar landmarks. After a while, you spotted him. He was walking about twenty paces away from you, between the trees. He wasn't looking at you, just walking, stepping over roots and around bushes, occasionally bending down to pick a berry or pick up a stone. He didn't disappear, didn't come closer—he was simply there, like a shadow in the forest. You stopped. He stopped too. He turned to you, tilting his head slightly, as if checking to see if you were ready to talk. But he didn't say anything. He just kept walking.

You didn't know what he was thinking. You didn't know how he worked anymore. But you felt his presence—calm, attentive, slightly detached. If you came closer, he would probably react. If you called, he would probably answer. But for now, he simply waited. Walked nearby. And watched.