《Mayday 32》 May 32 Hi. My name is Black. I need your help. My life¡ªand everyone else''s¡ªdepends on it. I know this sounds insane. I wouldn¡¯t believe it either. But if you''re reading this, it means this message was meant for you. Please, listen. Focus on every word I say, because if you don¡¯t¡ªif you ignore this like it¡¯s nothing¡ªI might not make it through this. The Beginning I never liked college. Too many people. Too many expectations. Too many things I didn¡¯t care about. I didn¡¯t need friends. I didn¡¯t need validation. And because of that, I stuck out. Which only annoyed me more. At seventeen, I was just another face in the crowd¡ªtall, lean, forgettable. I kept my head down, spoke only when necessary, and stayed invisible. It was easier that way. No friends. No girlfriend¡ªnot that I cared. My parents were rich, but they lived abroad. I lived alone in a PG, exactly how I liked it. No one to bother me. No one to tell me what to do. I spent all my time chasing the only thing that mattered. Crime. Not committing it¡ªsolving it. I wasn¡¯t a detective, but I could¡¯ve been. I was better than most. Hours, days, weeks dissecting cold cases. Lurking in crime forums. Breaking down police reports the world had forgotten. When I wasn¡¯t hunting for answers, I gamed. Played guitar. Boxed just enough to keep myself in shape. But those were just distractions. The puzzles always pulled me back in. And recently, I had done something reckless. I had hacked into the FBI database. I know. Stupid. Dangerous. But the rush of cracking something forbidden, of seeing the truth no one else could? I needed it. It took weeks of planning. I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to attack head-on. Instead, I found an old subdomain¡ªbarely monitored, running outdated software. Using Shodan, I confirmed it was still active. A few SQL injections later, I slipped through. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. One forgotten contractor¡¯s account. That was all it took. And suddenly, I was inside. The FBI¡¯s internal database. I should have stopped. Logged out. Wiped my tracks. But I didn¡¯t. I kept digging. Searching. And that¡¯s when I found files I was never supposed to see. Names. Locations. Operations buried under layers of encryption. Some were cold cases, others¡­ still active. For two months, I had locked myself in my room, piecing together puzzles the world had forgotten. I didn¡¯t need friends. I didn¡¯t need summer trips or late-night hangouts. I just needed more time. But time was running out. Tomorrow was June 1. Summer was over. College was waiting. A lead weight settled in my chest. I wasn¡¯t ready to go back. Back to lectures that blurred together, deadlines that piled up, and the endless noise ¡ª students shouting across hallways, pointless gossip filling the air, and professors droning on about things I¡¯d forget the moment I left the room. College wasn¡¯t just a waste of time ¡ª it was pointless. My parents were rich. I didn¡¯t need a degree. I didn¡¯t need to waste years chasing something I¡¯d never use. Crime. Patterns. Puzzles. I¡¯d spent the summer buried in codes and forums, peeling back layers of twisted logic and digital footprints. It was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that felt... right. But tomorrow? Tomorrow meant snapping back to reality. Pretending to care about things I didn¡¯t. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I muttered under my breath: "I wish tomorrow never comes." The words left my lips without thought. I didn¡¯t mean them. But something heard. The Nightmare I don¡¯t know when I fell asleep. One moment, I was in bed. The next¡ª Darkness. Not just any darkness. Absolute. Like the world had been erased. Like I had been erased. No light. No ground beneath me. No sense of my own body. Just an abyss so vast, so consuming, that even my thoughts felt swallowed by it. Then¡ª A sound. A faint, wet slithering, distant yet closing in. I held my breath. Listened. It was subtle at first, like something shifting, coiling in the dark. Then it grew¡ªcloser, louder, faster. A sickening scrape. A guttural click-click-click. Something was crawling. I tried to move. I couldn¡¯t. The slithering quickened, echoing all around me. Then¡ªa whisper. Low. Jagged. Spoken in a voice that wasn¡¯t human. "Found you." A chill shot down my spine. I thrashed. Or tried to. My limbs wouldn¡¯t respond. My breath hitched, trapped in my chest. The thing in the dark slithered closer. Closer. A deep, gurgling rasp filled the void, like air forcing through something that shouldn¡¯t be breathing. I strained to see. Nothing. Then¡ª A brush against my skin. Cold. Slimy. Not a hand, not fingers¡ªsomething else. It wrapped around my ankle. I gasped¡ªtried to kick, to scream¡ª But the grip tightened. Then, with a violent YANK, it pulled me downward. A force like nothing I had ever felt¡ªlike my entire body was unraveling, being ripped from reality itself. Pain exploded in every nerve. My vision swam with bursts of red. I opened my mouth¡ªfinally, a scream¡ª But no sound came out. And then¡ª Everything shattered. May 32 I shot up, gasping. Air tore into my lungs like I''d been drowning. My heart hammered, a frantic, uneven rhythm slamming against my ribs. My skin¡ªice-cold. My entire body¡ªaching, like I¡¯d been crushed and reassembled. A dream. Just a nightmare. I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, forcing myself to breathe. In. Out. Slow. Steady. But it felt too real. My phone buzzed. I grabbed it, desperate for something normal. Something real. 7:00 AM. I exhaled sharply¡ªthen my eyes landed on the date. May 32. I frowned. Blinked. Still May 32. A weird glitch? A prank? I rubbed my eyes and checked again. Nothing changed. A strange tightness coiled in my stomach. I sat up, scanning my room. My laptop. My wall calendar. My alarm clock. All of them said the same thing. A chill crept down my spine. I reached for the TV remote with stiff fingers and switched it on. "Good morning! Today is May 32nd, and we have some breaking news¡ª" The remote slipped from my hand, clattering onto the floor. I stopped breathing. This wasn¡¯t a mistake. This wasn¡¯t possible. I grabbed my phone again, scrolling through social media, news sites, forums¡ª Nothing. No one was talking about it. No one but me. A hollow pit opened in my chest. I turned to my laptop. Maybe if I restarted everything, it would fix itself. Maybe I was still dreaming. Maybe¡ª The screen flickered. Static crawled over the display, distorting the colors. Patches of black flickered in and out. And then¡ª For a split second¡ª I saw it. A reflection. Something. Someone. Standing behind me. I spun around so fast my vision blurred. Nothing. A cold sweat prickled down my back. Slowly, I turned back to the screen. New words had appeared. "YOU WISHED FOR THIS." My breath hitched. My hands went numb. No. No, no, no¡ª I slammed the laptop shut, my pulse a deafening roar in my ears. Had I done this? Had my stupid wish broken time? And suddenly¡ª I woke up again. But this time¡ª everything had changed. One Must Replace Another. And suddenly, I woke up again. But this time¡ªeverything had changed. Chapter 2: One Must Replace Another. I couldn¡¯t breathe. Salt burned my throat. My lungs screamed for air. I coughed violently, my body convulsing as I gasped for oxygen. My skin was wet, my clothes clung to me, and the air reeked of salt and decay. My head throbbed with sharp, stabbing pain.. Where am I? My mind was foggy, my thoughts tangled. Who am I? Panic surged through me. My eyes burned, my body ached, and the air reeked of salt and decay. I forced my eyes open, but all I saw was darkness. Then, I choked. My stomach twisted. I retched, bile burning my throat. My body collapsed again, too weak to move. Minutes passed. Maybe more. Then¡ª I inhaled sharply, forcing myself up. My head throbbed, pain lancing through my skull. I groaned, rubbing my temples. My voice echoed. Echoed? I froze. Something was wrong. I rubbed my eyes, blinking hard. My vision cleared just enough to take in my surroundings. A beach. I frowned. A beach? I didn¡¯t remember hearing the waves. How did I get here? I was in my room just a moment ago! This doesn''t make any sense. Wet sand clung to my skin. Behind me, the sea stretched endlessly beneath a dark sky, the full moon casting an eerie glow over the water. The waves swelled unnaturally high¡ªfifteen feet, maybe more. I turned the other way. A forest. Twisted, skeletal trees loomed ahead. No rustling leaves. No movement. No sound. Just an unnatural silence that clung to the air like damp cloth. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Wake up. Wake up. I clutched my head. This wasn¡¯t real. It couldn¡¯t be. I was home¡ªI was in my room¡ª Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Then it hit me. May 32. The news. The calendar. The message. "YOU WISHED FOR THIS." My stomach twisted. Was that a dream? Or¡ªwas this the dream? A wave crashed behind me. I turned¡ª And my blood ran cold. The water was rising¡ªa massive, towering wall, at least fifteen feet high, surging forward with relentless force. It loomed over me, a liquid monolith, ready to crash down and consume everything in its path. Even without touching me, I felt its power¡ªthe weight of the air thick with salt, the deafening roar as it threatened to erase the shore beneath it. One misstep, one second too slow, and I¡¯d be gone. Run. My body moved before I could think. I sprinted toward the forest, my feet sinking into the wet sand. The wind howled as the wave came crashing down¡ªjust behind me¡ªjust close enough for icy water to spray against my back. I didn¡¯t stop. The moment I stepped into the trees, everything changed. The roar of the ocean vanished¡ªno crashing waves, no rushing water. Just silence. Darkness. Not the kind that comes with nightfall. Something deeper. Thicker. The entire forest dissolved into a suffocating black void¡ªexcept for a single path. A thin strip of dim, glowing light stretched forward, cast by the moon itself. I skidded to a stop, heart hammering. The path was narrow. Too narrow, as if one step off, and I¡¯d fall into nothingness. My hands shook. My thoughts tangled. Everything¡ªthis place, the sensations, the weight pressing on my chest¡ªwas too much to handle. It swallowed me whole, leaving only fear and confusion. But then¡ªhope. I didn¡¯t know why. I didn¡¯t understand it. But the light ahead, thin and distant, felt like the only solid thing in a world unraveling around me. So I ran. Feet pounding, breath ragged, eyes locked onto the glowing path. This passage is already strong, but here¡¯s a refined version that tightens the flow, builds tension, and emphasizes the growing threat of the darkness: Sharp pain pricked my skin ¡ª scratches? Thorns? I didn¡¯t know. The cuts started small, like tiny needles dragging across my flesh. But it wasn¡¯t random. It happened whenever any part of me touched the dark. A hand. A shoulder. Even my hair. The moment it crossed into that endless black, something grabbed me ¡ª cold fingers, thin and jagged, clawing at my skin. Nails scraped down my arms and legs, sharp and relentless. Each time, they twisted and pulled ¡ª like the darkness itself was reaching for me. I couldn¡¯t see them, but I felt them ¡ª hands snatching at my clothes, icy fingertips brushing my face. The more I ran, the more frantic they became ¡ª tearing, dragging, desperate to catch hold and pull me under. I pressed my arms tight against my body, kept my steps careful but quick. One wrong move, one careless slip ¡ª and those hands wouldn¡¯t just cut me. They¡¯d take me. Just before, this light had brought me hope ¡ª a thin, silver lifeline in a world unraveling. But now... now it burned. Not like a beacon, but like coal ¡ª blistering, cracking, turning to dust. How long have I been running? I have never ran this much my entire life before. I wasn¡¯t out of breath. My legs didn¡¯t ache. Adrenaline kept me moving, chasing that thin, silver line of hope. But as movements passed, something was wrong. My body felt... lighter. Too light. Like I was losing pieces of myself with every step. My skin tingled ¡ª then tightened. I glanced down ¡ª and my stomach lurched. My hands ¡ª they weren¡¯t mine. They were thin. Wrinkled. The skin clung to my bones, dry and pale, like paper stretched too far. Veins bulged beneath the surface. My fingers bent at sharp angles, the joints swollen and stiff. It was as if I was aging ¡ª fast. My arms thinned, my muscles wasting away. My chest felt hollow, my breath shallow. Each step seemed to pull more from me ¡ª skin sinking against my ribs, my clothes hanging loose. I stumbled, barely catching myself. My bones ached, too brittle to take much more. But I couldn¡¯t stop. Because if I did¡ª The darkness would take me. And then ¡ª The trees thinned. The darkness broke. My chest screamed. My vision swam. Every breath burned ¡ª shallow, ragged, desperate. And through the haze ¡ª Fire. A flickering glow burned ahead. My breath hitched. I pushed forward, sprinting toward the light, desperate for something real. Then¡ªpeople. Figures standing around the flames. Human shapes. Alive. Relief crashed over me. I wasn¡¯t alone. I ran faster, heart pounding, lungs burning, the nightmare slipping from my mind. But then¡ª Silence. The moment I stepped closer, the voices stopped. Every head turned toward me. And that¡¯s when I saw it. The body. Or¡ªat least, what used to be one. Limbs twisted at impossible angles. Unrecognisable. A spine bent the wrong way. Eyes¡ªgone. Torn from the sockets. The shape was human, but the way it was broken¡ªmangled¡ªwas anything but. My stomach lurched. I staggered back. No. No, no, no¡ª I needed to run. I needed to get out of here. I turned¡ª And froze. A girl stood in front of me. Warm brown eyes. A gentle smile. A presence so calm, so out of place in all this madness. "Hey there," she said lightly. "You better stop before you get yourself into more trouble than you already are." Her hand touched mine¡ªsoft, warm, real. For a moment, the panic in my chest eased. "It¡¯s okay," she said. "You¡¯re safe. For now." Safe? I yanked my hand away. "Safe?!" My voice cracked. "You think this is okay? That¡ªthing" I pointed at the body, my breath ragged. "That¡¯s a person! Or¡ªit was! I don¡¯t even know what that is¡ªI don¡¯t know anything¡ª" I stopped, gripping my head. This wasn¡¯t right. This wasn¡¯t normal. I always knew things. No matter the topic, no matter how obscure, I always had an answer. A guess. A theory. But here¡ª Here, I knew nothing. I was small. Lost. Helpless. The girl just smiled. "I know," she said. "That¡¯s why you¡¯re here." She tilted her head. "Or maybe¡­ it¡¯s the other way around?" My Reflection In Flesh "I know," she said. "That''s why you''re here." She tilted her head. "Or maybe... it''s the other way around?" CHAPTER 3 - MY REFLECTION IN FLESH The stench of blood and flesh in front of me was nauseating. I had read about crime, seen images that would make the average person sick-but this? Seeing it in real life was different. It wasn''t just terrifying. It felt personal. The body lay twisted, half-sunken into the damp earth, as if it had been there for days. Flesh peeled away from bone. Eyes long gone. The mouth stretched open in a silent scream. This was no longer a mystery to solve behind a screen. It was real. It''s night, and they were digging the grave. He will be buried soon. I hope. I myself to swallow the bile rising in my throat. My mind reeled, clinging to her words. "That''s why you''re here." What did she mean? That I was here because of that body? Because someone died? And then-her next words sent a chill down my spine. "Or maybe... it''s the other way around?" I opened my mouth to ask, to demand answers, but- My legs buckled. A sharp pain shot through my lower back. My vision blurred. My heart pounded-too fast, too hard- What? Why? I wasn''t running anymore. I wasn''t exhausted a second ago-maybe it''s the adrenaline dropping. My body collapsed. I reached out toward her, my fingers barely brushing the air before- Thud. Blurring vision and then- Darkness. And then- A scream tore through the void. A voice, not mine- "You killed me-bones twisting, guts spilling-" The words blurred, tangled together, melting into a sound that didn''t belong in this world. I couldn''t move. Couldn''t breathe. Something wet crawled up my arms. And then- I shot up, gasping, my hand clutching my chest. Bright light flooded the room. Sunlight. It poured through a nearby window, warm against my skin. Warm. For the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn''t cold. I wasn''t wet. Wait. I looked down. The damp, tattered mess I wore last night was gone-replaced with fresh, well-fitted clothes. Almost as if they were made just for me. I blinked. Not that it mattered. The old ones had no pockets, no phone-nothing useful in a place like this anyway. Where am I? My throat burned. The taste of salt and bile still lingered in my mouth. But the bed beneath me was soft. The air smelled clean, with a faint, inviting scent- Food. My stomach clenched. When was the last time I ate? I forced myself to take in my surroundings. A wooden house. Simple. A sturdy roof, smooth walls, a closet in the corner, a few chairs. A door leading to another room. Everything neat, well-kept. And then- A voice. "Oh! You''re awake!" I turned to the window, squinting as a figure peeked inside. The sunlight behind her turned her into a silhouette, but her tone was light, cheerful-too normal. It was her. "It''s almost noon," she said, resting her elbows on the windowsill. "Good for you, it''s almost lunchtime!" She grinned. As if nothing had happened. As if there hadn''t been a body. My throat tightened. She tilted her head, watching me. "You feeling okay? You were pretty out of it last night." I swallowed hard. Her gaze flickered down, scanning me with something almost like curiosity. "You''re pretty bruised up, but it doesn''t seem serious. I was thinking of asking the doctor to check on you, but honestly, after last night..." She hesitated. "Well, let''s not go there. You don''t have a fever, so that''s good. I kinda kept checking on you the whole night. Why don''t you get cleaned up first? Then we can have lunch and visit the doctor together." She smiled. Gentle, warm, like sunlight filtering through leaves. I could listen to it forever. And then- She disappeared from the window. Only to pop back a second later. "Oh! I left some clothes for you. They should fit. Just toss the ones you''re wearing in that bucket, okay?" The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Then-gone again. And just like that-she was gone. I exhaled. I hadn''t seen her clearly last night. Even now, the light outside was too bright to make out her face. I rolled up my pant leg. Thin cuts covered my skin. Not deep, but sharp. Dozens of them. I ran my fingers over them, feeling the sting. Last night wasn''t a dream. It was real. And I was still here. I reached for the bathroom door and pushed it open. The first thing I saw was a mirror. I froze. The person staring back at me-was that me? Hollow eyes. Sunken cheeks. Pale skin stretched too thin over sharp bones. I looked like I hadn''t eaten for days. And yet... my hair hadn''t grown at all. How long has it been? I traced the reflection, as if touching it would make things clearer. What is happening to me? I tore my gaze away. It didn''t matter. I inhaled sharply. The air smelled clean here. Fresh. A faint fragrance lingered-something calming, almost nostalgic, but I couldn''t place it. I undressed, tossed my clothes into the bucket, then turned the shower on. Cold water. The moment it hit my skin, I shivered. The sensation was too familiar. Saltwater. Wet clothes. The stench of rot. It all came rushing back. The ocean swallowing me. The suffocating weight of water in my lungs. The taste of bile and fear. I gasped. The air felt thick. My chest tightened. My legs gave out. I collapsed under the stream of water. Knees hitting the floor with a dull thud. My body trembled. My breath came in ragged gasps. Why is this happening to me? Why am I here? What did I do wrong? I forced myself up. No. I can''t keep thinking about yesterday. This place is dangerous. That dead body yesterday made it clear. But what unsettled me the most wasn''t the corpse. It was the people. No shock. No grief. No horror. They just stood there. Blank expressions. As if this wasn''t the first time. As if it was normal. Or worse-as if they knew it would happen again. Which means-I''m in danger. I clenched my fists. I can fix this. And then- Fix what? The thought slithered into my mind, cold and mocking. What is there to fix? What do you even know? Is there even anything to fix? My breath hitched. My thoughts tangled. I slapped myself. Hard. Snap out of it. That girl. She knows something. No one else was smiling. No one else seemed calm. But she did. I don''t know if I can trust her. But she''s different from the others. I need to talk to her. I need answers. With a surge of determination, I pushed open the door and stepped out- Naked. The cold air hit my skin. Oh. A split second later, I rushed back inside, slamming the door shut. What the hell was that?! I exhaled, pressing a hand to my face. Good. No one saw that. There was a towel nearby-flowered and pink. Probably hers. It smelled amazing. I hesitated. What is this scent? It wasn''t perfume. It wasn''t floral or artificial. It was just... warm. Familiar. Safe. For a second, I wanted to sink into it. But no time for that. I dried off and grabbed the clothes left for me. Men''s clothes. They had no fragrance. And-they fit. Perfectly. Same height. Same build. Same proportions. Almost like they were made for me. I frowned. But that didn''t matter. Not right now. I stepped outside. The noon sun hit my skin. This time, it felt warm. Comfortable, even. I took in my surroundings. The village stretched before me-larger than I expected. Seven houses, each worn by time, their wooden walls cracked and faded. A few narrow roads, uneven and lined with patches of overgrown grass, snaked between them. Now that I had a moment to actually observe this place... where exactly was I? The air was thick, heavy. Something about it felt off. The houses were old, but that wasn''t what unsettled me. No electrical lines. No streetlights. No technology at all. Had this place never advanced, or had someone erased all traces of it? I frowned. Then, something unexpected. A spark of excitement. Curiosity twisted inside me, winding tight, sharper than before. A mystery. An unknown world. Maybe even a case to solve. For the first time since waking up here, I wanted to know more. To piece things together. Excitement flickered in my chest. But then- I remembered. The feeling was sudden, like cold water splashing over my head. The waves, rising higher than 15 feet, swallowing the shore in their merciless black. The pitch-dark forest, shifting, alive in the silence. And the dead body. My stomach twisted. My breath hitched. The excitement was gone, snuffed out like a candle in the wind. This wasn''t a puzzle in some detective novel. No neatly wrapped ending. This was real. And that changed everything. The air carried a strange mix of scents-earthy dampness, the faint sting of smoke, and something warm. Savory. Food. It was coming from the longhouse nearby. A communal hall? So they all eat together. My eyes scanned the area, searching. And then-I saw her. For the first time, I saw her clearly. Brown eyes - warm and deep, like earth after rain. They seemed to catch the sunlight, soft and golden, turning her gaze into something that lingered - something that held you. Her hair, dark and smooth, spilled down her back in a loose braid, with stray strands curling gently around her face. It framed her features in a way that made her look both delicate and strong - like someone who knew how to smile through storms. She wasn''t striking in the way that turns heads on crowded streets - no sharp angles, no exaggerated curves - but there was something else. Something quieter. Her figure was slender but not frail, her shape graceful yet grounded. The way she moved, like the wind playing over calm waters, made it impossible not to watch her. Her skin, sun-kissed and smooth, seemed to glow in the light - not with brilliance, but with warmth. A warmth that felt safe. Familiar. What is she? It felt like I was seeing a woman for the first time - not just looking, but seeing. I''ve known beautiful women before - the kind that steal your breath in an instant. But this was different. She wasn''t just beautiful - she was... pleasant. Easy to look at, yet impossible to turn away from. Like staring at still water on a quiet morning - the kind of stillness that makes you forget the world was ever loud. I was still caught in that thought when she spoke. "You look good," she said, her voice soft yet certain - a voice that felt like a hand on your shoulder, steadying you before you even knew you were falling. I blinked. "Are you feeling better now?" I nodded. She laughed. "Boy, are those cheeks hollow! Ha! Let''s get you something to eat." Before I could respond, she grabbed my hand and pulled me along. I frowned. Do you really have to do that? I can just follow you, you know. But I didn''t say it. Obviously. I couldn''t remember the last time I held a girl''s hand. It felt strange. Soft and squishy. By the time we reached the longhouse, the scent of fresh bread and soup filled the air. Nothing fancy. Just as she said. But to me, it smelled delicious. Inside, I noticed a single woman serving food. The cook, maybe? The girl led me to a table. "Sit here. I''ll get you food." And with that, she walked off. I sat, scanning the room. I didn''t know her name. I didn''t know anyone''s name. People glanced at me for a second, then returned to their meals. Soon, she returned with a plate-bread and soup. Before eating, she prayed. It was almost funny-praying in a place like this. When she finished, she looked at me. "What''s your name?" I hesitated. Just for a second. "Black." Her head tilted. "Black?" "Yeah. Black." She frowned. "That''s it? Your full name is just... Black?" "Yeah. That''s all." I was about to ask her name when her expression shifted. The smile - the one that had felt so warm, so easy - was gone. For the first time, she wasn''t smiling. I followed her gaze. In the distance - a figure. A man. Why does he look... familiar? Have I seen him before? Do I know him? No. Wait - his clothes. Am I wearing his clothes? He looked like me. Too much like me. Same build. Same height. Same frame. What the hell. He didn''t look at me. Didn''t even acknowledge me. I stared, my thoughts racing, tumbling over one another. And then - "I''m Grace." I turned back to her. "What?" She smiled again. That warm, gentle smile - like nothing had happened. "My name. It''s Grace." But I barely heard her. My eyes were back on him. This time, he looked up. And he saw me. Maybe the others couldn''t tell - my hollow cheeks, the bruises, the way I looked now - maybe that was enough to throw them off. But he knew. When his eyes met mine - He smiled. Not just any smile. A knowing smile. A practiced one - the kind I''d learned to wear when I was lying, bluffing, or forcing myself to look calm when my stomach was in knots. The corners of his mouth curled just enough - like a quiet dare. Like he was telling me, I know what you''re thinking. And in that instant, I knew - We weren''t just similar. We were the same. That smile told me that. The Man Wearing My Face Maybe people didn''t realize we looked alike-my cheeks were hollow and I look different now. But he knew. When he looked up this time- His smile told me that. CHAPTER 4 - THE MAN WEARING MY FACE What is this place? The more people I meet, the less I understand. And now- I stare at the man wearing my face. He knows something. I need to talk to him- "HEY! ARE YOU IGNORING MEEEEE?!" A voice-too close, too loud. I barely had time to react before- Ouch! A sharp pain shot through my arm. Something bit me. Bit me?! I snapped my head to the side. And there she was-grinning as she sank her teeth into my arm. I yanked my arm away. "What the hell are you doing?!" Grace pouted, arms crossed like a child caught stealing candy. "Hmph. You ignored me. I was introducing myself! It''s Rudee you know." I stared at her, half in shock, half in disbelief. "...So you bit me?" She huffed, turning her head away like she hadn''t just committed assault with her teeth. I exhaled, pressing my fingers against my temple. Focus. I turned back- Gone. My stomach twisted. No. He was there. A second ago, I saw him. I shot up from my seat, scanning the area. Nothing. Not even a shadow. My pulse pounded in my ears. I missed something. A clue. A chance to understand what''s going on. I turned to Grace. "You saw him, right? You were staring at him just a moment ago." She blinked, then tilted her head. "Ehh? What are you talking about? Oh-him? Yeah, hehe. Well... it''s ''cause you guys are more similar than you know." My jaw clenched. So he''s real. Relief washed over me. I''m not imagining things. But before I could push for answers, I noticed the shift in her expression. Her gaze lowered to her feet, her fingers tightening against the edge of the table. Sadness. "He doesn''t talk to anyone anymore," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "When I first came here... he was different. I thought he really cared. He made this place feel safe¡ªlike I wasn''t alone." She hesitated, fingers gripping the edge of the table. "But then... one day, he just stopped. Stopped talking to me. Stopped talking to anyone. He locked himself away. Never comes out. We barely see him anymore." Her voice wavered, her gaze drifting to the floor. "I tried. More than anyone. I was the closest to him... or at least, I thought I was. But no matter what I said, no matter how much I tried to reach him¡ªhe wouldn''t talk back. Wouldn''t even look at me." She swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn''t reach her eyes. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. "It hurt so bad that... I had to stop trying." She laughed softly, but it was hollow¡ªlike a love letter burned before it could ever be read. Her words hung in the air like an open wound. For a moment, I almost felt bad for asking. It sounded less like she was stating a fact¡ªand more like she was sharing her first heartbreak. She went tracing the floor for a few seconds, clenching her fist hard. But then¡ª A sudden spark of energy lit up her face. She straightened, eyes gleaming, a grin stretching across her lips. "Hey, you know what his name is?" I frowned at the sudden shift. "No. What is it?" She giggled. "Ummm... maybe you should ask him yourself! Hehe, that would be better." I narrowed my eyes. "Why would that be better?" Instead of answering, she grabbed a nearby glass of water and chugged it down. Then, ever so slightly, she glanced at me-almost like she was asking if I wanted some. I shook my head. "No, I''m good." She slammed the glass down with a satisfied sigh, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and- Locked her arm around mine. "Alright! Let''s go!" "What? Where?" She grinned. "To the doctor, of course! We gotta check out those cuts. Even though they don''t look infected, you never know!" I pulled back slightly. "That''s not really necessary. I actually feel better now-" She stopped. Her grip tightened. When she turned to face me again, her smile was gone. In its place-a cold, serious stare. The sudden shift caught me off guard. I almost laughed-it didn''t suit her. But then she spoke. "Look," she said, her voice dropping to something colder-something real. "Nothing in this place is fine. You can never predict it. Never understand it. And you can never be too careful." The sharpness in her tone cut through the air like a blade. "I know you''re new, and I don''t wanna be hard on you after everything you''ve been through," she continued, her gaze locking onto mine. "But if you''re not careful, you won''t survive." The weight of her words crashed into me, heavier than I expected. So she''s not clueless after all. She knows. She''s just been pretending not to. She knows this place is dangerous. She knows. She just doesn''t show it. And in that moment, the cuteness faded like a dark cloud swallowing the sky. I saw it-the pain, the suffering-her desperate attempt to hold on to whatever was left of herself so she wouldn''t break. But who was I to judge? I felt the same way. She started walking again, still holding onto me, and for once- I didn''t mind. On the way, a thought gnawed at the edges of my mind. Why is she helping me? Even with the weight of her own pain, she still chooses to help others. Most people hesitate-even when they can. Self-preservation. Indifference. Fear. But her? She doesn''t even stop to think. She just gives. Without asking for anything in return. So selfless. I can feel it she''s fragile. Vulnerable. Yet she throws herself into the fire without hesitation. And suddenly- A surge of protectiveness crashed over me. A fierce, unshakable need to shield her. To guard her from whatever horrors this world had in store. Because if not for her... if not for her warmth, her laughter, her maddening, relentless energy- I don''t know if I''d still be standing. She made me smile in a place that swallows joy whole. This world needs her. I need her. Lost in thought, I almost didn''t notice when we stopped. We arrived at our destination. I looked up. The doctor''s house was different from the rest. A real house. Built from bricks and stone. A proper door. Locks. The most developed place I''d seen here. There was no doorbell. Grace banged on the door-three times. "HARO? Anyone theeeere? HAROOO?" I blinked. ...Did she just say haro? She used R instead of L, just like in Japanese phonetics. I hadn''t noticed it before-maybe because I was too disoriented-but now, as I listened to her speak, the subtle details stood out. Her accent, her tone, the way she stretched certain words, pressing R in place of L... even the way she carried herself. She must be Japanese-or at least partly. The door swung open. A man stood in the doorway, early twenties, clean-shaven, crisp white shirt tucked into black pants. Socks, but no shoes. His sharp glare locked onto us. Grace beamed. "Oh! Doctor Lenny! We have a new-" "How many times," he snapped, "do I have to tell you to STOP BANGING ON THE DAMN DOOR?!" His whole body radiated pure frustration. "This is a GOD DAMN Hospital for Christ''s sake.?! " Grace pouted. "Ehhhh, but it''s only a hospital if there are patients in it, right? Right, Black?" I wasn''t sure what to say. Technically... she had a point. Tch. Lenny clicked his tongue, rubbing his temple. "Never mind. You-new kid-come in. I''ll take a look at you." Grace cheered. "Okay!" Lenny''s eyebrow twitched. "Not you." "Eh?" "You''d only annoy me more." Grace gasped. "Hey! That''s not fair! I''m his guide! He wouldn''t go in without me, right, Black?" Her eyes sparkled with playful innocence. Lenny sighed, clearly regretting every life choice that led him to this moment. Then- He grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut. I barely had time to process what just happened before I heard her muffled whining from outside. Lenny sighed. "I''m sorry, but Grace-I just can''t work around her. She''s too annoying." I didn''t argue. He crossed his arms. "I''m Doctor Lenny. As you might have noticed, I''m the only doctor here. A blessing for you, but a curse for me." His voice was sharp, but there was something else beneath it. Determination. "But I don''t regret being here. If I wasn''t, many would''ve died painful deaths. I don''t get to choose the people I save. For me, everyone is equal-it doesn''t matter what I have to do. Where I have to do it, I just do it." His words carried weight. He wasn''t just a doctor. He was a soldier. I felt a growing respect for him. He looked at me, waiting. Right. My turn. "I''m Black." The moment I said it, Lenny twitched. The same strange reaction. The same one Grace had. But why? Even though I and the mystery man look alike, my face now is different-hollow, sunken. Even I wouldn''t recognize myself. So why did he look at me like that? Oh. A sudden realisation It''s the name. He doesn''t just look like me. He has my name, too. And just like that- I knew. That man... the one who looks like me... We''re not just similar. We''re the same. Merry-Go-Round. And just like that- I knew. That man... the one who looks like me... We''re not just similar. We''re the same. CHAPTER 5 ¨C MERRY-GO-ROUND Dr. Lenny flinches at my name. It¡¯s subtle,just a twitch, a flicker in his eyes, but I catch it. Recognition? Fear? Something else? He masks it quickly, schooling his expression into neutrality as he strides toward the examination bed. Lenny gestures. ¡°Lie down so I can examine you.¡± His voice is too even, too normal. The bed is different from the others I¡¯ve seen.. sleek, metallic, unnervingly pristine. A thin green sheet is tucked over it with clinical precision. Beside it, an identical bed stands, just as untouched. These weren¡¯t makeshift. They didn¡¯t belong in a place like this. I hesitate for a moment, still thinking about his reaction earlier, but I obey. The bed is surprisingly soft, and my aching body sinks into it. It feels like heaven. ¡ªtoo comfortable. My body, weak and exhausted, melts into it like it had been longing for this exact feeling. Lenny turns to a nearby shelf, sifting through its contents. ¡°Let me grab a thermometer.¡± I watch him, but my mind is elsewhere. He reacted when I said my name. I know he did. And yet, he won¡¯t say anything. Why? He knows something. He must. Another person here looks like me. Another person with my name. Is it dangerous for him to talk about it? Or is he just unsure if he can trust me? I need to find out. Lenny returns, holding a thermometer and a stethoscope. He hands me the thermometer. ¡°Under your arm.¡± I follow his instructions as he presses the cold metal of the stethoscope against my chest. It traces along my ribcage, feeling every bone beneath my thin skin. ¡°You¡¯re underweight,¡± he mutters. ¡°But don¡¯t worry. It happens to everyone when they first arrive. It doesn¡¯t take long to recover.¡± His words are meant to reassure me, but they don¡¯t. Why am I so thin? What is this place? Where am I? And the dead body I''ve been here long enough, and I don¡¯t know anything. I always prided myself on figuring things out on my own, on rising to the challenge. But this place¡­ it doesn¡¯t follow logic. At least, not any logic I understand. I need to ask. I need answers. But where do I start? I take a breath. ¡°Doctor¡­ what exactly am I?¡± He pulls the stethoscope away, looking at me carefully. For a moment, he hesitates. Finally, he sighs. ¡°It¡¯s your first day. You have questions. But trust me, knowing won¡¯t make you feel any better.¡± I sit up. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I need to know. I¡¯m stuck here just like you. I have a right to know what¡¯s going on.¡± Lenny exhales sharply. ¡°Kid, I don¡¯t know what to say. I don¡¯t have an answer for that. No one does.¡± That¡¯s not what I wanted to hear. He exhales sharply, leaning against the counter. ¡°Nobody here knows where we are. We don¡¯t know what this place is. No radios, no phones, nothing works. Some call it an island, but even that doesn¡¯t quite fit.¡± I narrow my eyes. ¡°Why not?¡± Lenny drags a hand down his face, exhaustion creeping into his voice. ¡°Because we don¡¯t know its limits. All we have is this settlement, just this one small, fragile space where we can exist. Beyond that, there¡¯s the forest. And no one knows how far it stretches.¡± He pauses. ¡°We can¡¯t explore it anymore.¡± I tense. ¡°Can¡¯t?¡± Lenny¡¯s expression darkens. ¡°When I arrived,¡± I say slowly, ¡°there was this thin, glowing white line in the forest. That¡¯s how I got here. If we follow it back¡± ¡°No.¡± Lenny¡¯s voice is sharp, final. ¡°That line only appears under a full moon, and only for those coming in. Once you''re here, it¡¯s gone.¡± A chill spreads through me. "So that means¡­ a person can only enter once a month. I mutter." Lenny subtly nods, then exhales. ¡°The forest,¡± he says, his voice edged with something close to reluctance, "It doesn¡¯t behave like something of this world¡­ the real world, I mean." I swallow hard. ¡°The moment you step out of the light,¡± he murmurs, ¡°something cuts you. Just like the wounds on your legs.¡± I look down at my feet. The wounds. The stinging pain. He¡¯s right. ¡°And even if, somehow, you made it past the forest,¡± Lenny goes on, ¡°there¡¯s nothing waiting for you except the ocean. Waves over fifteen feet high. No boats. No way across.¡± Trapped. I clench my fists, anger boiling beneath my skin. Who did this? Why am I here? Lenny has to be wrong. There has to be a way out. I meet his eyes, desperation creeping into my voice. ¡°Has anyone ever made it out before?¡± There had to be someone. ¡°No one has ever made it out. Not as far as I know.¡± say Lenny No. No, this can¡¯t be happening. I¡¯m stuck here? I can¡¯t leave? Would anyone even notice I¡¯m gone? My parents wouldn¡¯t even realize it for a while. I don¡¯t have any friends who would come looking for me. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. But there has to be something. If there¡¯s no way out, then we have to figure out who¡¯s doing this to us. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s the answer for now. A flicker of hope sparks inside me. I take a breath and turn to Dr. Lenny. ¡°Do you know why you¡¯re here? Or anyone who could be behind this? I mean, you guys must have learned something after all this time.¡± Lenny sighs. ¡°I¡¯ve been here for six months. And no, we don¡¯t know anything. And I don¡¯t believe anyone is doing this to us.¡± I frown. ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know? You¡¯ve been stuck here for six months and you know nothing?¡± Frustration swells inside me. My hands clench into fists. ¡°How can you not know?¡± My voice rises. ¡°Have you even asked anyone? Someone must know something.¡± Lenny watches me calmly. ¡°Kid, I know you¡¯re frustrated. I understand. I¡¯ve been where you are now. But that feeling¡­ it disappears quickly.¡± I grit my teeth. ¡°You don¡¯t know me,¡± I snap. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare assume who I am. I¡¯m not a quitter like you¡± The words catch in my throat. Suddenly, without warning, tears burn my eyes. I regret saying those words. What am I doing? I¡¯m yelling at a man who¡¯s trying to help me. I lower my head, swallowing hard. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± My voice is quiet now, thick with emotion. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ too much to take in.¡± Lenny doesn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°It¡¯s okay. This place does that to people.¡± I wipe my face quickly and straighten up. ¡°So we¡¯re all just¡­ stuck. Fine. But it doesn¡¯t matter how long it takes¡ªI¡¯ll figure this out. For all of us.¡± Lenny lowers his gaze. Not in thought. Not in contemplation. But in resignation. As if my words are weightless. As if my determination is just noise in a place that swallows hope whole. And that¡¯s when I see it¡ªthe defeat in his eyes. Not the quiet exhaustion of a man who has fought too long, but the hollow gaze of someone who has already lost. A soldier who didn¡¯t just lose the battle, but the war. Everything. The same Dr. Lenny who, just moments ago, carried himself with the confidence of a survivor now looks like a man who has watched the world burn and simply accepted the ash. There¡¯s more he isn¡¯t telling me. And when he finally speaks¡­ "You might not have noticed," Lenny says, his voice hollow, "but there are only thirteen people here." I frown. ¡°Okay¡­?¡± "That¡¯s how it¡¯s always been," Lenny continues. Then he hesitates, his voice dropping. "And¡­ every person here¡­ has exactly one year to live." The words land like a hammer to my chest. Silence. A suffocating, crushing weight presses against me, sinking deep into my ribs. My breath falters. But Lenny isn¡¯t done. ¡°When a year passes, they die.¡± His voice is void of emotion now¡ªdrained, emptied. ¡°And then¡­ someone else appears from the forest. As if to replace them.¡± The room feels smaller. The air, thinner. Something tightens around my lungs, squeezing, squeezing, until I swear I might choke. Like a hand reaching inside me, fingers curling around my heart... gripping it with a slow, merciless squeeze. So that¡¯s what Grace meant yesterday when she said, that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. It¡¯s too much to take in. But no. I won¡¯t give in. I won¡¯t break. I force my breath to steady and look at Lenny. Stay focused. ¡°You¡¯re saying there are always thirteen people here¡­ and each person gets a year to live.¡± Lenny nods. I do the math. "You''ve been here for six months," I say slowly. "That means you only have six months left." ¡°Not exactly. This place has thirteen months in a year,¡± the doctor says. ¡°That means I have seven months left.¡± I stare at him. That doesn¡¯t make any sense. How can there be thirteen months in a year? That¡¯s just not... realistically possible. Does that mean time is different here? Are we even on Earth anymore? No. That¡¯s ridiculous. It must be a misunderstanding. I drift in thought I glance around, trying to ground myself, but nothing feels stable. My thoughts spiral until I meet the doctor¡¯s eyes again. "Nothing here resembles reality,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Nothing here makes sense." Nothing we do matters. I clench my fists. ¡°But you only have seven months to live. How can you just give up? You said you value everyone equally, that it doesn¡¯t matter who they are. Do you not value your own life? How can you throw it away like this?¡± The doctor places a hand over mine. His voice is calm, but there¡¯s a weight to his words, heavy with something deeper than exhaustion something painful. ¡°I don¡¯t want to demotivate you, but there¡¯s nothing we can do here. Every time someone gets stranded, in a book, a movie, a game¡ªthere¡¯s always something to fight. Some enemy to defeat. Some goal to reach.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°But here? There¡¯s nothing. No monsters. No villains. The only danger is the forest, and even that only matters if you try to leave.¡± He exhales, slow and weary. ¡°This place doesn¡¯t kill you outright. It just drains you¡ªslowly, quietly¡ªuntil you have nothing left.¡± I watch him, my mind racing. There has to be an answer. "People must have tried to figure this place out before,¡± I argue, desperation creeping into my voice. Lenny doesn¡¯t answer right away. His eyes darken, shoulders sagging under the weight of something heavy, something I can¡¯t yet grasp. ¡°They did.¡± Two simple words, yet they carry the weight of countless failures. ¡°Everyone does, at first.¡± His voice is steady, but there¡¯s something beneath it. Something worn. Something broken. ¡°They ask questions. They search for answers. They fight. They refuse to accept it.¡± He exhales slowly. ¡°But then they see it happen. Over and over. People die. Every month.¡± His gaze lifts, locking onto mine. ¡°And eventually¡­ they just accept it.¡± The words sink into me like cold steel. ¡°Just like in the outside world, where we die when we age.¡± I shiver runs down my spine. ¡°Some believed this was a human experiment,¡± he continues. His voice is distant now, like he¡¯s repeating old theories long since abandoned. ¡°Some thought we were test subjects, lab rats in a grand, cruel experiment. Maybe for science. Maybe for war.¡± He exhales, shaking his head. ¡°Others said it was a game. Entertainment for the wealthy. That somewhere, people are watching us, placing bets, laughing at our suffering.¡± His gaze drifts, eyes unfocused. ¡°Then there were those who swore we were already dead. That this is hell, or purgatory, or some twisted afterlife where we¡¯re being punished.¡± A pause. His fingers tighten into a fist. ¡°A few believed we were in a dream. That none of this is real. That we¡¯re asleep somewhere, trapped in our own minds.¡± His voice drops lower now. ¡°And then¡­ there were the ones who thought we weren¡¯t human anymore. That we had been taken. Changed. That whatever we were before¡­ we¡¯re something else now.¡± Silence. Lenny exhales, rubbing his temples. ¡°But the truth is¡­¡± He hesitates. His eyes flicker with something... not fear, but something worse. ¡°This place is beyond human understanding.¡± He looks at me now, gaze steady. ¡°And if a human can¡¯t comprehend it¡­¡± He doesn¡¯t finish the sentence. Because he doesn¡¯t have to. Because I already know. The answer¡ªwhatever it is¡ªmight not be one we were ever meant to understand. A chill spreads through me, but at the same time, my skin burns. Sweat beads at my temples, trickling down my back like molten iron. It feels like I¡¯m standing in the middle of a vast desert, the sun beating down, unrelenting, except there is no sun. No heat. Just the weight of something unseen pressing against me, crushing me from the inside. My hands tremble. Not from cold. Not from exhaustion. From fear. Even if this is beyond our understanding, there must be something. Some hint. Some clue¡­ I squeeze my fists, trying to steady myself, to hold onto something real. There has to be a reason. A pattern. A clue. Something. I replay everything in my mind, the glowing line in the forest, the others¡¯ reactions, the way Lenny flinched at my name. And then there¡¯s him. The other me. He exists. I know he does. I take a slow breath, heart pounding against my ribs. The pieces are right in front of me, scattered, just waiting to be put together. A year. Thirteen people. The cycle. Thirteen must stay. When one dies, another arrives. I squeeze my eyes shut. Think. Why is he here? Why do I look like him? Why did Lenny react the way he did? Unless¡ª I inhale sharply, my eyes snapping open. That¡¯s it. I look up at the doctor, my breath quick and uneven. ¡°Doctor¡­¡± My voice wavers, but I push through. ¡°This is a loop.¡± Lenny watches me carefully. My thoughts race ahead of me. ¡°Yes¡­ yes, it must be.¡± My pulse pounds against my temples. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? There¡¯s someone else here¡ªsomeone who looks exactly like me. The other Black.¡± I press my palm against my chest. ¡°You might not notice because of how thin I am now, but I know. I know he¡¯s me.¡± Lenny doesn¡¯t react. But I don¡¯t need him to. I already know I¡¯m right. I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. My voice rises. ¡°This is the clue. This is the key! Maybe it¡¯s not a loop for everyone, but at least for me. And you¡ª¡± I gesture around wildly. ¡°All of you are dragged along with it.¡± My breath comes in fast, shallow bursts. The world around me sharpens, every detail searing into my mind. ¡°This explains everything! The cycle, the numbers, why we can¡¯t leave¡± I clutch my head, exhilaration and terror colliding in my chest. ¡°If I can talk to him... if I can reach the other me... I can break it. We can all go home.¡± Relief crashes over me like a wave. I did it. I solved it. I¡¯ve saved us all. But¡ª No. It shouldn¡¯t be this easy. The thought creeps in, unwelcome. A whisper at the back of my mind. I stare at Lenny, waiting for something¡ªacknowledgment, shock, even the smallest flicker of hope. But I see none of it. His face is unreadable. The silence stretches too long, pressing against my chest like an unseen weight. And then¡ª ¡°Kid.¡± Lenny¡¯s voice is low, steady. Unshaken. ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡± The words hit harder than I expect. ¡°What do you mean? You just don¡¯t see it yet, but this is a loop! You¡¯ve given up hope, but I haven¡¯t. I will save you. I will save everyone!¡± The doctor exhales, long and tired. ¡°First of all, don¡¯t tell anyone about your theory,¡± he warns. ¡°It¡¯s for your own safety. Hope, in a place like this, is dangerous¡ªespecially false hope. And as for that guy you¡¯re talking about¡­¡± He hesitates. Something in my stomach twists. ¡°Yes, I see the resemblance,¡± Lenny admits, his voice calm, too calm. "Even I am confused but there is a connection. And maybe¡­¡± He exhales, rubbing his temples. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s just this place messing with us.¡± He doesn¡¯t look at me. I swallow, my mouth dry. ¡°But it could be a loop, right?¡± I push, searching his face for something... anything. ¡°You said you see it too. It makes sense.¡± Lenny sighs. ¡°I can see how it could be a loop. In some ways.¡± I exhale, my pulse still racing. ¡°Then¡ª¡± ¡°But that guy¡ª¡± He stops. Just like that. His words cut off like a door slamming shut. I wait. A second passes. Then another. I stare at him, my body tense. Lenny¡¯s lips press into a thin line. For a moment, I think¡ªHe won¡¯t say it. I need him to say it. Then, finally, he looks me dead in the eye. And says- ¡°His name isn¡¯t Black.¡± The room tilts. I blink. ¡°¡­What?¡± Lenny doesn¡¯t flinch. Doesn¡¯t blink. His face is unreadable, but his voice... his voice is heavy, like he¡¯s setting down a weight that¡¯s been crushing him. He repeats it, slower this time. ¡°His name isn¡¯t Black.¡± My stomach knots. My breath catches. I shake my head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t¡ª¡± Lenny doesn¡¯t let me finish. He exhales, then says the last thing I expect. ¡°His name is White.¡± About 2600 Sheep He exhales and says the last thing I expect. His name is White. Chapter 6 - About 2600 Sheep That name crashes into me, not just in my ears, but deep in my bones like a wrong note shattering the harmony of a perfect melody. It''s jarring, off-kilter, and leaves everything tilting on its axis. It feels wrong. He''s White? My mind stumbles. No, that doesn''t make sense. He''s me... or at least, that''s what I believed. The patterns, his face, his twisted smile it all fit. But now, it''s like the ground beneath me is giving way. Everything I thought I knew, the logic I''d pieced together like fragile glass, is breaking apart. "A cold wave of disappointment crashes over me, sharp and suffocating. My chest tightens, breath hitching as my grip on this unraveling reality slips through my fingers. I thought I had this figured out - thought I understood. But now... now I don''t know anything at all." But maybe... just maybe... I''m doing it again. Jumping to conclusions, grasping at answers where there are none. What if White isn''t... White? What if he''s still Black? What if this whole mess is just layers of illusion folding in on themselves? I look at Dr. Lenny, desperate for some kind of anchor, some reassurance that I haven''t completely lost my mind. But the words won''t come. My thoughts are tangled, suffocating, impossible to shape into anything coherent. I don''t know what''s real anymore. The doctor notices my frustration and offers a thin, uncertain smile, like he''s not sure if it will help. "Hey, you know what?" he says, tapping my shoulder. "That was actually a pretty good guess. Maybe you will figure out how to get us out of here." He meant to encourage me. But it doesn''t work. "Kid," Dr. Lenny says, his voice softer now, "I know this is a lot to take in, but this... this isn''t the world we knew out there. This place doesn''t play by the same rules. It defies logic, so don''t beat yourself up too much. A successful man''s just someone who''s failed more than a failed man... alright?" He''s right, or at least, he''s trying to be. I meet his gaze with a blank stare, feeling the weight of my own thoughts pressing down on me. I''ve solved crimes before.. picked apart clues, connected dots no one else could see. But never like this... never with an audience. This was my first attempt - my first chance to prove I could pull it off in front of someone else. And I failed. That realization burrows deep, sharp and cold , gnawing at something inside me. It''s not just the mistake that stings; it''s the fear that maybe I''m not as clever as I thought. The fear that I''ve been fooling myself all along. It''s disappointing. Embarrassing. But i cling to the doctor''s words to steady myself. I can''t give up. I''ve failed before... but this time, failure isn''t just mine to bear. If I screw this up... if I can''t figure this out.. Grace, Dr. Lenny... everyone pays the price. Their lives hang in the balance, and I''m the one holding the thread. I can''t afford to get this wrong. I need to talk to White. I need to know everything - who he really is, what he''s hiding. Only then can I piece this mess together... and get everyone out safely. But what if I can''t? What if I''m wrong again? The doubt coils tight, suffocating, dragging me down, whispering that I''m not good enough, that I''ve already failed. No. I grit my teeth, forcing the thought away. I can''t let this break me. Not now. The flicker comes slowly, faint and fragile, but it grows, feeding off that stubborn refusal to quit. Before I know it, that spark has turned into fire, driving me off the bed before I even realize I''m moving. "Hey, we''re not done yet," Dr. Lenny calls out. "I still need to check your cuts, remember?" "Oh... right." I pause, feeling foolish, and sit back down. Dr. Lenny kneels beside me, inspecting the gashes on my legs with practiced care. His fingers are firm but gentle as he prods the edges of the wounds. "Well," he says after a moment, "they''re not infected, and they''re not too deep. Did you get cut anywhere else?" I roll up my sleeves, revealing a few shallow scratches along my arm. He leans in, eyes narrowing as he traces the marks with his fingertips. "These aren''t too bad either. You got lucky." His voice tightens, a flicker of something heavier bleeding through. "Most people who show up here... they''re not this lucky. Some get torn up so badly we barely keep them alive. That''s why I have to save the stronger ointments for the serious cases. I hope you understand." I nod. "Yeah... I get it." He rises and crosses the room, opening a cabinet. From inside, he retrieves a clay bottle - dark red with intricate carvings etched into its surface. It''s beautiful, almost too delicate for a place like this. The carvings... they weren''t just decorative. They told a story - something old, something forgotten. Something that felt far too familiar. "You can use the oil from this," Dr. Lenny says, holding it out to me. "Just... bring it back when you''re done." "I will," I say quietly. As I stand, my legs feel shaky, but I manage. "Thanks, Doctor." He nods back. "You''ll figure this out... I know you will." For a moment, I see something in his eyes - not quite pride, but something softer. Hope. Like he''s choosing to believe in me, even if he''s not sure I deserve it. I turn to leave, clutching the bottle tightly. The cool clay feels sturdy in my hand, like it''s meant to endure. I slip it into my pocket, half-expecting it to shatter. But it doesn''t. Somehow, it feels like the most solid thing in my life right now. Outside, the air is cooler than before, carrying the faint scent of earth and something sweet. Grace is sitting on a bench beneath a tree exploding with crimson-red flowers, delicate yet intense, as if the petals were burning embers. I don''t recognize the type. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. She hears my footsteps and turns, her face lighting up as she springs to her feet. "You''re back!" she says, her voice bright - but a little too quick. "So... what did the doctor say? Everything''s ok right? I was starting to worry - you took so long." Her concern feels warm, grounding, like a rope pulling me back to solid ground. For a moment, the chaos fades, and I remember why I''m still fighting to figure this place out. "Oh... sorry," I reply. "Didn''t mean to keep you waiting. And yeah, I''m fine. The doctor said I don''t even need ointment. "How long was I gone?" Grace grins, her eyes flickering with mischief. "Hmm... about 2,600 sheep, hehe What does that even mean? "Sorry for making you wait," I say again. "It''s okay." She taps her cheeks playfully, her smile softening. "I''m just glad you''re alright." "Thanks," I murmur, but my mind is already racing. The moment with Dr. Lenny, White, the loop, - it''s all spinning together like pieces of a puzzle that just won''t fit. "Can you... take me to White''s house?" Her smile falters. "White''s house?" "Yeah." My voice hardens. "I need to talk to him." "But why?" Grace presses, her voice sharper now. "And I told you... he won''t talk to anyone." Her eyes narrow. "Chotto matte... how do you even know his name''s White?" She pouts, glancing toward the doctor''s office like she expects answers to come walking out the door. How can she be so carefree? I wonder. Knowing we''re all going to die here... "Grace," I say, forcing my voice steady, "I really need to see him. Please." She exhales heavily, her shoulders sinking. "S¨­ ka.. okay then. This way - it''s not even that far." Then her tone shifts, lighter now, like she''s trying to pull me back to something normal. She smiles, warm and gentle, like this place isn''t crumbling around us. "But after that," she adds, "we''re gonna see your new houseee! It''s not much, but I''ll help you decorate it." Before I can answer, she grabs my hand.. soft and warm, like I expect it to take away all my problems. But it doesn''t. She tugs me forward, her fingers curling tighter around mine. There''s a little hop in her step, light, carefree - like she''s skipping through a world that isn''t slowly swallowing us whole. But unlike her, I can''t forget the truth. Brutal and merciless. Everyone here has only a year to live. And if I fail... they''ll all die. Grace will die. I should ask her how much time she has left... I should know... but the words won''t come. Not yet. Not when I still don''t have answers. And maybe... maybe I don''t want to know. I tell myself she''s probably safe - that her smile, her warmth, the way she skips ahead like nothing''s wrong... it all means she''s still got time. Plenty of time. But what if I''m wrong? The thought hits like ice water down my spine - sharp, cold, impossible to shake. It''s been barely a day since I met her, yet she''s already become... important. To this world... to me. If I can''t stop this... if I can''t figure out the twisted logic of this place... then what''s the point in calling myself a detective? Or even a man? Lost in thought, I barely notice as we approach a house - simple yet striking. Even though it''s made of wood, there''s a certain elegance to it, like something you''d see in a high-end resort. Smooth, polished panels stretch across the walls, their rich, earthy tones glowing faintly in the dim light. The windows are wide, framed by clean lines, giving the place an open, inviting feel. It''s the kind of house that feels... alive. Quietly breathing with the world around it. "Waaa!" Grace exclaims, her face lighting up. "It''s... just like my dream house. Even after seeing it so many times, I still can''t get over it..." Then I see him. White. He stands outside, still as a statue. Head tilted back, eyes locked on the sky. Something about him feels... wrong. Too still. Too distant. My chest tightens. Is he... Then I see it. The faint rise and fall of his chest. Shallow. Uneven. Like a wind-up toy running out of steam. But his eyes... they don''t just stare at the sky - they cling to it, like something out there is staring back. I follow his gaze upward. The sky. A thin red crack bleeds across it, faint yet unmistakable, like a jagged wound splitting open the heavens. The crack pulsed... slow and steady, like a second heartbeat... one I was sure hadn''t been there yesterday. "What... is that?" I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. Grace steps beside me. "Hey... what are you-" She sees it. I hear her breath hitch, sharp and ragged, like something''s caught in her throat. When I glance at her, her face is drained of color, her wide eyes fixed on the sky. Tears well up, clinging to her lashes before rolling silently down her cheeks. "Grace?" I whisper. "Are you... okay?" She doesn''t answer. "Hey..." I touch her shoulder, gently shaking her. "What''s wrong?" Her eyes stay locked on the sky - wide, unblinking. Slowly, her lips curl upward, but there''s no warmth in it. Just something stretched - unnatural - like a mask stitched too tight. Slowly, her head turns toward me. And that''s when I see it. The smile. Twisted. Forced. Stretched too wide, too sharp - like someone had stitched her lips in place and pulled them tight. It''s not joy. It''s not even fear. It''s something far worse. A smile that says I know what''s coming... and there''s nothing we can do. My mind spins, searching for answers, but none of it makes sense. The red glow, her tears, that awful smile... Is the light good? Is it bad? Will it save us... or destroy us? I don''t know. I hate not knowing. "It''s okay," I say, forcing calm into my voice. "I''ll fix this. I''ll get you out of here. I promise." I pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms tightly around her. She''s trembling.. no, shaking, like her body''s forgotten how to stay still. I feel her fingers twitch, like she''s trying to hold on but can''t. She doesn''t hug me back; she just presses her face into my chest, her quiet sobs muffled against my shirt. For a moment, she clings to me like I''m the last solid thing in a world that''s slipping away. And maybe... maybe I am. "Okay," she whispers at last, her voice barely audible. She steps back, wiping her face with her sleeve. For a second, she just stands there - shoulders rising and falling with each breath - like she''s holding herself together with sheer willpower. Then, slowly... she smiles. Small at first, uncertain - but warm and real. But her eyes flick to the sky again... and that smile is gone. She turns aside, gesturing toward a wooden house. "Well... that''s White''s place. And that''s White himself." "I can''t come with you," she says quietly. "It''d just make things... awkward. He doesn''t talk anyway." "Where are you going?" I ask, my concern slipping into my voice. "Will you be okay?" She nods and turns to leave but pauses, lingering in place like she''s caught between words, like there''s something she wants to say but can''t. Her smile lingers, too - soft and fragile, like a flickering candle in the dark. And then it''s gone. For a second, everything else, this twisted world, the crack in the sky, the people who''ve died - all of it vanishes. There''s only her. And then I realize... I''m still holding her hand. I let go, my fingers cold where hers had been warm, like I''d lost something I didn''t know I needed. "Ja ne," she says softly, her eyes meeting mine. Her voice wavers, just a little - like she''s trying to sound casual but doesn''t quite believe it herself. Then she turns away, her steps falling like whispers, fading into the distance, leaving only silence where she once stood. I take a deep breath. Focus. I turn back to White. He''s still there - frozen in place, his head tilted back, eyes locked on that crimson crack in the sky. Why? Why isn''t he moving? Why is he just... standing there? I swallow hard, my throat dry. Time to find out. I force myself forward, each step heavier than the last. White - he''s the answer. He has to be. If I can just talk to him, I''ll know what''s happening - I''ll know how to fix it. I''ll know how to go home. My heartbeat quickens, pounding in my ears. The distance between us feels endless - like I''m walking through water, every step dragging me down. Why does he feel so far away? Panic twists in my chest, sharp and breathless. What if I never reach him? What if he fades away, just out of reach.. always there, but never close enough? What if I''m stuck here... chasing shadows forever? I push myself forward, faster now, almost running. I can''t wait anymore. I need to know. Who are you? What is this place? How do I get us out? I stumble to a stop, breathless, just feet away. His head lowers, and his eyes lock onto mine. Cold. Sharp. Piercing, like a blade pressed to my throat. I stagger back instinctively. His hair - stark white - stops me cold. It wasn''t like that before. But it''s not just the color that unsettles me. It''s the way he''s looking at me... like I''m something broken. Like I''m something dangerous. "You did this," he says, his voice low and bitter. "You caused this." The air thickens, closing in around me. I freeze. No... no, that''s not... But deep down, I know exactly what he means. The red glow in the sky, the crack that shouldn''t be there. The crack I saw when... No. I swallow hard, my throat tightening. "What are you talking about?" He steps closer, slow and deliberate, each step calculated, like he''s daring me to run. His gaze holds me in place, cold, certain, pitiless. "You know exactly what I''m talking about," he says. I shake my head, but it''s a weak, hollow motion. "No... I-" "You did this." His voice drops to a whisper - softer now, but heavier than a scream. It clings to the air like smoke, curling around me, seeping into my skin. And then, the words that stop my heart. "Because of you..." His gaze sharpens - hard as ice, sharp as glass. "Grace is going to die." White Lies & Dark Consequences "Because of you..." His gaze sharpens - hard as ice, sharp as glass. "Grace is going to die." Chapter 7 White Lies & Dark Consequences "What?" The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My breath stumbles, my ribs locking tight. What does he mean Grace is going to die? And worse... because of me? I stare at the man in front of me. White. He looks like me. Same face, same build. But colder. Like someone drained all the warmth from his eyes and left nothing but ice. His stare cuts through me, sharp and accusing, like he''s already decided this is my fault. Like Grace is already gone, and I let it happen. No... no, that''s not true... "You''re lying," I snap. But my voice falters. White doesn¡¯t flinch. Doesn''t blink. Just stares. Empty. Not her... not Grace... My pulse pounds in my skull. Memories flash. Her smile. Her voice. Her laugh, warm and full of life. Gone? I stagger back, legs locking up. My chest burns, my breath scraping against my throat. "No..." The word barely escapes, thin and broken. Then something snaps. A dam bursting. "You''re lying!" I snarl, heat surging through me. "You''re just trying to mess with me!" White doesn''t react. Doesn''t even blink. Just stares back, cold and distant, like I¡¯m nothing. That look. Detached. Uncaring, ignites something sharp and bitter inside me. My hands curl into fists so tight my nails dig into my palms. My pulse roars in my ears. "How dare you..." The words come out low and strained, like they''re being forced through my teeth. "How dare you stand there like this isn''t real... like Grace is just... gone..." The world blurs at the edges. All I see is him, that face that''s supposed to be mine, only colder, sharper. Like he''s stripped away everything that made me human and left something hollow behind. My muscles coil, my body trembling, breath ragged and shallow. "You think I''m just going to accept that?" My voice rises, breaking as it spills out. "You think I''ll just stand here while you" "You already have." His words cut deeper than a knife, like he''d reached inside me and ripped something loose. The rage surges again, too big to contain - a furious knot of grief, guilt, and disbelief clawing to escape. You bastard I plant my feet. My arm pulls back on instinct, muscles tightening like coiled wire. "How dare you!" I throw my fist forward with everything I have. Every ounce of anger, guilt, and desperation. "I WILL NEVER HURT GRACE." My knuckles tear through the air, fast and reckless. But White doesn¡¯t move. Not a blink. Not a flinch. Just that same cold stare, like he knew exactly what I''d do. And then ¡ª he''s gone. A shift of his weight. A twist of his heel. My punch cuts through empty air, and my own momentum drags me forward. I stumble, chest heaving, heart racing. My ribs are wide open. I know it, and so does he. White¡¯s eyes lock on mine. Calm. Detached. His hand twitches at his side. He could end this right now. Ribs. Heart. Throat. Anywhere. But he doesn¡¯t. He just stands there... like I¡¯m not even worth it. That stare burrows into me, colder than any punch could have been. The rage that burned so fiercely sputters out, leaving something heavier behind. Humiliation. My legs give out, and I hit the floor. My arm twists awkwardly beneath me, breath ragged. This bastard... this... But the fire is gone. All that¡¯s left is the weight in my chest ¡ª crushing, suffocating. I grit my teeth, fighting back tears. I couldn¡¯t even land a hit. The rage that kept me standing is gone, and in its place is something worse. Something bitter and hollow. Why... whyyy... I can¡¯t lift my head. Can¡¯t bring myself to look at him. Maybe he¡¯s still standing there, maybe he¡¯s already turned away. I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t want to know. The cold floor presses against my face ¡ª unrelenting, unmoved. And still better than I am. How can I face him... how can I face anyone? I can''t even land a punch. Can I save anyone... I¡¯m just a fool on the floor. Tears streak my face. My breath shudders out of me. And then I hear it - a voice sharp as a blade. "If you''re done feeling sorry for yourself, we have work to do. You want Grace to live, don''t you?" Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! White. Something twists inside me - something bitter and sharp. First you blame me for her death... now you want to team up? Almost choke on the thought. Anger stirs again, weaker than before but still burning. My breath hitches, and suddenly... I laugh. A dry, broken laugh. One breath. Then another. Heh... heh... hahaha... Pathetic. I press my hand to my face. My fingers tremble, but my tears are gone, replaced by something colder. Something I can use. "You need me," I mutter, barely loud enough for him to hear. My voice cracks, but I force the words out. "This place... whatever it is... you need me to fix it, don''t you?" I push myself to my feet, still not looking at him. My body feels heavier than before, but I keep moving. I turn to face him, forcing myself to meet his cold stare. White doesn''t answer. Just stares. And that''s how I know I''m right. I don''t know how I know - but I do. Something clicks inside me, something certain. For a moment, I forget why I even came here. The twisted satisfaction of being right feels too good. White stares at me with that same cold glare. "On second thought," he says, "I don¡¯t actually need you. You''re no different from anyone else. All you do is wear my face." It''s the other way around, asshole... I think in my mind but I''m sure he heard it. "You," he continues, "are nothing like me. You''re emotional. Weak. Every thought that crosses your mind becomes your next move. No control. No focus." He steps closer, his voice lowering. "You''re a hot-headed fool who thinks the world bends to his feelings." My nails dig into my palms. My chest tightens. How far is he going to push me... is he trying to make me snap? "You know nothing about me!" I snarl. White''s smile widens ¡ª cold and smug. "Exactly," he says. "That''s why I tested you." His eyes narrow. "And you failed." He pauses, like he''s savoring the words. "If this was enough to break you, you won¡¯t survive here." His gaze hardens. "Teaming up with you would be a mistake." I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. "In a place like this, emotions will kill you. Fear. Guilt. Rage. They¡¯ll eat you alive if you let them. You want to save Grace? Then learn this. Suffering isn¡¯t something you endure. It¡¯s the cost of survival. Every step forward comes with a price. Pain is part of the balance, you can¡¯t outrun it, only decide what you''re willing to lose." His words stab deeper than I¡¯d expected. "Someone like you..." He shakes his head. "You''ll get yourself, and everyone else, killed." He turns away. "I¡¯ve already wasted enough time on you." I snap. "So all of this... all of it... was just a test?" My voice rises. "You claimed Grace was going to die. You blamed me. Just to test me? How dare you even say that! Unlike you, even though I¡¯ve only been here a day, I actually" "She is going to die," White cuts in. "What I said was true. How I said it... that was the test." The words hit harder than a punch. The pain twists deeper. "With your arrival," White continues, "something changed. I don¡¯t know why. I don¡¯t know how. But things are different now." He exhales sharply, like the words taste bitter. "Most likely for the worst," he says. "But you... you did something no one else has. No one¡¯s ever changed anything here before, and for a moment, I thought maybe... maybe there was hope." His gaze hardens. "But in a place like this, a mistake can cost everything. Time is crucial, and I can¡¯t waste a second of it. So I had to know for sure. I had to test you." He steps back, voice cold and final. "And now I know... you¡¯re not it." He exhales sharply, like speaking to me is exhausting. "I don''t owe you an explanation," White says. "But I don''t want you making things worse either." "Follow me or don''t," he adds, voice flat. "But know this, if you get in my way, you won''t get a second warning." White turns around, presses his palm on the door, and steps inside without a word. The door creaks as it swings open, then clicks shut behind him. I stand there, unsure what to do. As if being trapped in this place wasn¡¯t bad enough, everything else, even the people, just makes it worse. It''s like someone rubbing salt on my open wound. But Grace... she''s the only one who makes this place bearable. I can¡¯t lose her. I can¡¯t imagine this place without her. I need to do this. No matter what. With that, I push the door open and step inside. The scent hits me first. A familiar fragrance, like the house I woke up in this morning. The wooden walls are smooth, every plank carefully fitted. Unlike the other homes here, thrown together just to survive, this place feels intentional. There''s nothing extravagant inside. A bed, a table, some chairs, a few shelves, and a couple of doors and windows. All that glory outside. Yet this... this feels empty White pulls out a wooden chair and sits down, resting his hands on the table. Another chair waits across from him ¡ª mine. I sit and study him. He looks just like me, but now his hair... it wasn¡¯t like that before. I stare long enough for him to notice. ¡°I did it so people could tell us apart,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t want us causing confusion. Besides...¡± He gestures at his hair. ¡°It suits my name.¡± I glance back at his face. It makes sense, I guess. But was it really that important for people to tell us apart? ¡°I know you have a lot of questions,¡± White says. ¡°I might even answer a few. But first...¡± He leans forward slightly. ¡°I have some questions of my own.¡± My muscles tense. ¡°I overheard your name at breakfast,¡± he says. ¡°Black, isn¡¯t it?¡± I nod. ¡°Interesting...¡± He pauses, then asks, ¡°Who are you, really?¡± I frown. Shouldn''t I be the one asking questions? He doesn¡¯t trust me yet ¡ª that much is clear. Maybe he thinks I¡¯m a threat. Maybe I am, and I just don¡¯t know it yet. Can I even tell him the truth? Our names ¡ª Black and White ¡ª this can¡¯t be a coincidence. Someone else is at play here... I know it. White smiles faintly. ¡°Well, as you know, my name is White. I¡¯m 25 years old. A high school teacher. Science.¡± He pauses just long enough for the words to sink in. ¡°I know how to break things down,¡± he adds, ¡°and how to build them back up.¡± I blink. He¡¯s seven years older than me... and a teacher? I despise school. Teachers played a big role in that. This man is nothing like me... unless he¡¯s lying. But this isn¡¯t the time for mind games. People¡¯s lives are at stake. ¡°My name is Black,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m 17, and I hate school.¡± I hesitate, unsure if I should go on. But if I keep quiet, I know I won¡¯t get any answers. ¡°Before I came here... I don¡¯t know if it was a dream or something else, but I woke up on a day that shouldnt exist, May 32. Then I was... waking up again. Like I was trapped ¡ª stuck inside something dark, cold, and... wrong. It felt like something grabbed me, tore me apart, and stitched me back together.¡± I clench my fists. ¡°When I woke up on the beach, my body still hurt. Whatever happened... it wasn¡¯t just a dream.¡± I look at White, waiting for him to share his side. ¡°Well,¡± White says, ¡°everyone here wakes up on a date that shouldn¡¯t exist. But here... that day is real. It exists.¡± He pauses. ¡°They escape a nightmare, reach the beach, and follow the moons light through the forest. Then they find this place and a dead body. That is how it works.¡± I stare at him, my chest tightening. But none of that matters right now. Not compared to what he said earlier. ¡°What did you mean,¡± I ask, my voice low, ¡°when you said Grace is going to die? And what do you mean... because of me?¡± White¡¯s gaze sharpens. His expression hardens like stone. ¡°You saw that crack in the sky, didn¡¯t you?¡± I swallow. ¡°The red glow?¡± He nods. ¡°That happens when someone is going to die,¡± White says. ¡°It appears ten days before, and once a month when someone is due. When they die, it turns white... invisible to us, and it vanishes. But that crack... with your arrival, there¡¯s already another glow.¡± Something doesn¡¯t sit right. ¡°And how does that connect to Grace?¡± White leans back, folding his arms. "You''re slower than I thought," he says coldly. "Everyone here gets a year. Thirteen months, and they''re gone. Grace is next." He pauses, his gaze sharpening. "She should have had another month, but thanks to you, that red crack in the sky is already here." I stare at him, blank and emotionless. He expects me to break down. To panic, to cry, to crumble like some worthless, pathetic idiot. Maybe he thinks I''ll beg. Or maybe he thinks I''ll blame myself for everything, sputtering out desperate promises I can¡¯t keep. Or maybe he¡¯s waiting for me to shout, to lash out in some messy, pointless tantrum. Something loud. Something stupid. That''s what people expect from guys like me. Emotional. Reckless. Too hot-headed to think straight. The kind of guy who acts first and thinks later. The kind who slams doors and storms out because it''s easier than dealing with the mess in his head. But I¡¯m tired of it. Tired of being the idiot who panics. Tired of being the fool who snaps and makes things worse. I¡¯ve done that before. More times than I care to admit. But I learned. I learned how to swallow the chaos and think through it. I learned to stay calm when everything¡¯s crashing down. He doesn¡¯t know that the worse things get, the sharper I get. He doesn¡¯t know that when I stop reacting, that¡¯s when I¡¯m most dangerous. I stare at him, cold as ice. Then I say the words that shake him. "You''re lying." His face tightens. He wasn¡¯t ready for that. I see it now ¡ª behind all that smugness, he¡¯s just as fragile as me. But why? Why would he lie? Another test? No. This is something else. He stays silent, watching me carefully, like he''s afraid to speak without knowing which part of his bluff I caught. But I don''t have a problem with that. I''ll spell it out for him. ¡°You know how I know?¡± I say. ¡°Because of the same woman you¡¯re trying to save.¡± His expression hardens. "You were here before Grace," I say, my voice low. "The way she looks at you... the way she trusts you... even your silence weighs on her." I let the words hang, sharp and heavy. "If everyone here only has a year... and you were here before Grace..." I step closer, locking eyes with him. "You should be dead by now." "So tell me..." I pause, letting the words hang. "Isn''t that correct... or is this suddenly another one of your tests?"