A boutique service offers bespoke nightmares for clients who believe fear builds character. The Architect, known only as Vale, crafts dreams with precision: a chase through an endless library for procrastinators, a test with missing questions for perfectionists. Clients wake shaken but grateful. One night, Vale dreams their own creation—a nightmare they do not remember designing. In it, they are chased by a faceless crowd chanting, "Whose fear is this?" Vale wakes sweating. Logs show no commission. The rogue nightmare returns nightly, evolving. Vale seeks help from assistant Mina, who suggests the nightmare might belong to someone who never authorized it.
They trace code paths, finding an unbilled request in the queue: "I fear not fearing." Vale visits the client, an older woman named Ruth. Ruth says she lost fear to numbness and hired Vale to resurrect it. Vale's nightmare worked too well; it leaked back to the creator. Vale decides to change practice. They start designing nightmares with escape routes, with lessons that end in dawn. Some clients complain they wanted relentless terror. Vale refuses, adding a clause: nightmares must leave room for waking. Ruth returns, asking for a sequel. Vale offers a dream of standing on a cliff, wind whipping, fear present but not paralyzing. Ruth cries in her sleep, then thanks Vale in the morning for reminding her that fear can be a companion, not just a monster. Vale keeps the faceless crowd nightmare archived as a reminder that creators are not immune to their own designs. Their waiting room now includes warm blankets and a sign that reads, "We build storms, but we also build exits."
Business changes. People begin requesting nightmares that teach, not torment. Vale hosts workshops on consent in dreams, inviting clients to co-author the darkness they will face. Revenues dip, then stabilize as word spreads that this Architect cares about your morning after. Vale sleeps better, nightmares quieter, occasionally interrupted by the faceless crowd now holding lanterns instead of torches, guiding Vale through their own maze. Fear becomes dialogue, not punishment.