The first sentence on the note stunned everyone watching the live broadcast.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.
"What does this mean?" Natasha Romanoff asked, eyes wide with amazement. "Origami dragons can communicate with humans through paper notes?"
Even Nick Fury looked slightly taken aback.
He had initially assumed they were just harmless flying paper creatures. But now…
It was clear this wasn't simple at all.
He kept reading.
[Thank you. We are finally able to meet again after such a long time, friends. Peace – always maintained.]
Friends?
Peace?
Fury's brows furrowed. Could these creatures have interacted with humans before?
He continued reading with growing intrigue.
[Since you last came to give order, the giants and beasts have not spoken a word, nor caused any trouble.]
[We miss your team. How are your tribe members doing? Do you still remember how to operate your room? You are always welcome to visit.]
That last sentence made Fury's eyes go wide.
Could it be… this box connects to another world?
A chill ran down his spine. It reminded him of what had happened in 1983—when another world connected to a demonic entity.
But this… this was different. A world of origami dragons?
What did "operate your room" even mean? Did humans visit that world before?
Kamar-Taj.
The Ancient One stared at the screen in disbelief.
She activated her Mind's Eye again and this time, she didn't see paper.
She saw a dragon—a projection of a real dragon layered over the origami creature.
"Could it be that this origami... is a real dragon in another dimension?"
In the containment chamber…
James held the note in his hand, reading it with a mixture of awe and confusion.
"Record the note. Attach it as an appendix," he instructed calmly. "Also—alert Dr. Kondraki."
Then he glanced at the red origami dragon resting near him. It tilted its head, watching him silently.
"Can we speak to each other using language?" James asked gently.
The dragon tilted its head again, seemingly not understanding.
It flapped its paper wings and flew in slow circles before returning to his palm. It produced another folded note and gently placed it into his hand.
[It is strange how much your world has changed; stranger still is the way we arrive here now.]
[In the fantasy world, we were massive. Or... have you become smaller?]
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury leaned forward.
"This confirms it—they're intelligent. They're communicating."
He paused. "Why use notes, though? And what is this 'fantasy world' they keep referring to?"
Could it be the origami dragons came from an entirely separate dimension—one they called the Fantasy World?
Kamar-Taj.
The Ancient One's eyes widened with realization.
"That's it!" she exclaimed.
In their world, these beings are real dragons. What they call the Fantasy World is likely the dimension they come from.
From the sound of it… humans had definitely been there before.
[Although the room is still as spacious as before, it seems you have become... smaller?]
[We don't understand. According to our agreement, the rooms should always remain stable. Please keep your promise.]
That last note confirmed a major theory: someone from Earth had contacted these beings before. They had made a contract—a promise.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Room?" Natasha muttered, thinking hard. "Could that refer to… our world? Our dimension?"
Fury's face lit up with understanding.
"That makes sense. Remember the recent TK-level reality restructuring event? If the dragons refer to reality as a 'room,' then instability means our dimension is breaking down."
This theory sounded increasingly plausible.
Still, the questions were far from over. The mystery only grew deeper.
Everyone—across S.H.I.E.L.D., Kamar-Taj, and beyond—was now locked in a collective brainstorm.
No one had expected such revelations from a Safe-class SCP.
Then something changed on-screen.
[SCP-1762-1 began emitting thick smoke.]
The red origami dragon in James' hand twitched, as if summoned.
It flapped its wings, then rose into the air, joining the other dragons as they slowly drifted back into the paper box.
James watched them go, expression unreadable.
It truly felt as if a dragon had once perched in his hand.
Behind him, Dr. Kondraki's voice rang out, slightly breathless. "What's going on?"
"I…" James paused, then made a decision. "I request an immediate investigation into the original containment personnel and the creator of SCP-1762."
Kondraki blinked. "James, it's just a Safe-class object. We were close to neutralizing it. It's harmless—just a few paper dragons flying around."
James hesitated. "I'm… not sure anymore."
Kondraki shrugged. "As you wish. Nobody else wants this project anyway."
S.H.I.E.L.D.
"What's James thinking?" Natasha asked. "Why make such a bold request?"
Fury stared at the screen, thoughtful. There was so much they didn't know about SCP-1762.
The screen faded to black.
When it lit up again, time had passed.
James, in his white coat, stood once again in the containment room. But only one technician remained with him—the slightly plump Di Rui.
"You could've requested reassignment like the others," James said.
"I chose to stay," Di Rui replied, holding a clipboard.
James looked at him curiously.
"This project reminds me of a fairy tale book I read as a kid," Di Rui continued.
James paused in his writing. "What kind of book?"
"Oh, you know… a group of kids entered a wardrobe and discovered a magical kingdom. It's been so long—I barely remember it."
James stared into space, lost in thought.
Psssst—
The box expelled smoke again.
Colorful origami dragons emerged—but fewer this time.
And something was wrong.
They weren't flying.
They walked awkwardly across the floor, wings dragging, like they had lost their ability to fly.
Only the red dragon flew—weakly—and landed in James' hand, placing another note.
[Friends, we are sorry. We are short of staff.]
[We must remain in the Fantasy World for a while. Other forces grow stronger… and restless.]
[We seek peace. But please, for our mutual happiness, repair your room.]
[We know you've tried. Your people are the most imaginative among us.]
The red dragon fidgeted in his hand, clearly distressed.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Other forces?" Natasha repeated, brows raised. "What does that mean?"
Her eyes widened. "Wait… didn't the earlier note mention giants and monsters?"
Fury rubbed his chin.
"Is this all tied to our world's instability? What role does 'imagination' play in this?"
He looked at the dragons on screen. They looked sickly—fading.
"It seems the Fantasy World is collapsing."
In the containment room…
James stared at the box, deep in thought.
"Di Rui."
"Yeah?"
"Start recording. I've got three hypotheses."
The live chat exploded.
Three hypotheses?!
James closed his eyes and spoke with calm precision.
"First: SCP-1762-1 is a channel between illusion and reality. I suspect the Fantasy World is a dimension lower than our own."
The room fell into silence. A stunning theory.
"Second: The Fantasy World was constructed from the imagination of the creator of SCP-1762."
Di Rui's pen trembled as he wrote.
"Third: The creator may have been a Level 4 Reality Bender."
The live chat went wild.
"What? No way!"
"That's just a cardboard box and some paper dragons!"
"Is James high?"
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury slapped his thigh. "Of course! That's what 'imagination' means in this context!"
He turned to the agents around him. "A Level 4 Reality Bender—also known as a Type Green—can manipulate reality itself. They could imagine a world into existence!"
The Fantasy World wasn't naturally occurring—it was crafted. The dragons, giants, and beasts were all imagined into reality.
"Once they enter our world, they downgrade into paper versions—like origami dragons," Fury continued. "But if our reality weakens, so does their world."
The others nodded, stunned.
In the containment room…
Di Rui was still digesting James' theory when the box trembled again.
Suddenly, three crumpled yellow paper balls rolled out of SCP-1762-1 and landed on the floor.
James instinctively stepped back.
The paper balls began to vibrate violently for five seconds, then stopped.
"What… are those?" Di Rui whispered.
Before they could investigate, smoke puffed from the box again. The remaining origami dragons emerged, no longer playful or curious.
They flew directly to the yellow paper balls, gathered them, and returned to the box.
The red dragon, now noticeably more wrinkled and sluggish, landed weakly in James' palm.
It placed one last note.
[The giants are truly foolish. Your room is not ready for them.]
[We're sorry, my friend. We hope to meet again, but the time left for our shared happiness is running out.]
James clenched the note tightly, eyes narrowed.
The fantasy world was crumbling. And with it, something beautiful was about to be lost.