The next morning, Cairen examined the old photograph that lay on the table.
Every time he looked at it, he felt something like guilt… or nostalgia… or maybe nothing at all.
In the corner, the faceless man kept staring at him. He had no features, yet you knew he was looking straight at you.
Cairen whispered to himself:
— "Why are we in it? Who took this picture of us?"
Nero suddenly spoke from behind, without turning:
— "It's not us in there. Just our shapes."
Cairen spun around quickly:
— "What do you mean?"
Nero shrugged, as if he hadn't said anything, and went back to rummaging through his drawers.
Alicia sat by the window, looking outside, then suddenly said:
— "Where did the sign on the shop across the street go?"
They turned. She was right. The store that once bore the old blue sign, "Nova Market"… was now just a white wall. No door. No windows. No trace.
Cairen rushed outside. He stood before the wall. It wasn't newly painted… it looked as if no store had ever been there.
He ran his hand across the bricks, pressing, searching for something beneath. Then he muttered:
— "Something's working backwards… It's not us forgetting. Things are forgetting they ever existed."
Elsewhere, their neighbor Thomas vomited black blood, then smiled. An impossible smile.
His lips parted, his eyes dead, as blood trickled from his ear.
He said:
— "Thank God… there's nothing left inside me."
Then he died. Standing.
The rest stayed in the house, as if fearing the neighborhood itself like a plague.
Alicia shivered.
Nero drew circles, one atop another, as if forming a gate.
Cairen stood before the wall, where the last old sentence remained. No new words appeared. But that didn't mean the wall had finished speaking.
He placed his palm against it… and froze. It was warm.
The wall was warm.
He whispered:
— "Why is it warm? It's freezing outside!"
Nero replied, as if asking a question himself:
— "Maybe the wall's trying to breathe… and the heat is its exhale."
That night, Alicia saw herself again.
This time, the copy sat across the street, on a rooftop, mimicking her movements exactly—yet always half a second ahead.
Alicia raised her hand. The copy raised it first.
Alicia closed her eyes. The copy did it before her.
The other Alicia whispered in a cracked voice:
— "If I'm here… and you're here too… which of us has to disappear?"
Cairen came running after hearing her voice. He looked to the roof. Nothing.
Alicia was crying:
— "I can't tell if I'm me anymore… or if I've turned into something else."
The next morning, the ground was damp. Yet there had been no rain. The moisture carried a strange smell… like burnt ink.
Cairen stepped outside to see what was happening… and froze.
There was a new house.
Right in the middle of the square. A house that hadn't existed yesterday.
Built of old wood, its windows covered in black cloth.
Nero followed him out, stared at the house, then said:
— "That house doesn't have a door."
Indeed, it didn't. Only four walls and shut windows.
Cairen shouted:
— "Did anyone in the neighborhood see this house being built?!"
But no one answered. The people had become too few to even form an audience.
---
That night, a new sentence appeared on the wall. The first in days.
But it wasn't written in old black ink…
It was scratched in. Letters carved as though by fingernails.
> "Those who are unnoticed… survive."
Cairen read it, then sank to the ground. He wanted to scream, to understand, to escape.
But Nero sat beside him and said, in a voice too clear, too heavy for his age:
— "That's how my mom disappeared."
Cairen turned to him, stunned:
— "What?"
Alicia drew closer:
— "Nero… what are you talking about?"
Nero bit his lip, then said:
— "My mom used to say every day she was becoming less. Less in the photos. Less in our words. Less even in the mirror."
Cairen cut him off at once, with determination, his voice steady, as if trying to anchor reality:
— "Nero. There's no such thing. Stop."
But Nero didn't stop. He spoke as if bleeding out a wound buried deep in his heart:
— "The last thing she told me was: 'If you forget me, maybe I'll stay.'"
Silence. Then he continued:
— "But I couldn't… I remembered her. She loved coloring with me when I was little. She laughed when I made a mess of my face…"
Then he broke down in tears.
Cairen gently placed a hand on his shoulder, as though his touch was the last bridge holding him from collapse.
Nero's eyes swam with tears:
— "Yes… but I see her. I hear her… right now. Why can I see her if she's dead?"
At last, Cairen's own tears found a way out.
Alicia looked at them, her eyes shining:
— "We won't let any of us disappear… we won't forget each other."
Cairen raised his head slowly, staring at the wall, at the rough words that felt more like a threat:
— "Those who are unnoticed… survive?"
He exhaled bitterly:
— "Why is the house playing these games? Why us of all people… living these nightmares?"
Nero wiped his tears, his voice sharpening with focus:
— "Maybe because we're not meant to vanish. Maybe we're supposed to prove we exist… no matter what."
Alicia stepped closer, forcing a tired but determined smile:
— "If the house wants to forget… then we'll be the ones who remember."
Late that night, the sound returned.
Footsteps.
Something scratching at the door.
But no one opened it.
They knew: what was outside was not meant to be answered. Not meant to be let in.
It was only there… to make sure they still existed.
The next morning, the neighboring district was gone.
Yes. Gone.
When Cairen looked out from the rooftop, there was nothing but fog.
The road that once led to the market? Endless void.
The signs? Vanished.
Everything was becoming more like an old dream… one you try to recall after waking, and are punished by forgetting.
And at their door, a new message appeared. Written on a small piece of paper, pinned into the wood with a needle:
> "The next stage begins tonight.
Whoever opens the door… is chosen."
Cairen read it, his heartbeat slowing…
Nero snatched the paper, peeling at it with his nails.
Alicia was drinking water, but froze, whispering:
— "I dreamed of a house with no door… and inside was me. But I wasn't moving. I was just… watching myself."
Her face pale, she looked at them:
— "And I saw something else… the same picture we saw before. But in it… Cairen wasn't there."
A heavy silence.
Then Cairen whispered:
— "So… if I'm not in it… does that mean I'll be erased?"
Nero said:
— "Not necessarily… but maybe it means you've already stepped into the next stage."
Alicia gasped:
— "What stage?! Who decides the stages? Who hands them out to us?!"
Cairen suddenly stood, stumbling, pacing the room:
— "We have to get out of this neighborhood… Something's wrong, deeply wrong, and it's closing in on us."
Nero snapped his head up, his face nearly gray:
— "Don't talk about leaving… Not after my mom. I don't want to vanish like her."
Cairen exploded:
— "Nero! If we stay, we will vanish—by force, not by choice!"
Nero shook his head violently:
— "But leaving is worse. Maybe outside… there's nothing. Maybe this neighborhood is the last thing left in the world."
Alicia clutched her head:
— "No… no, wait. The house that appeared today, that's not natural. And the things disappearing… it's like the neighborhood itself is becoming less… shrinking with time. Just like your mom said."
Cairen leaned in close, his voice tight and sharp:
— "What else did you see in the picture?"
Alicia pressed a hand to her chest, her heart racing:
— "There was a shadow behind you… Not human. Something tall, its back bent, as if it was standing inside you."
Nero's whole face turned pale. He rose, trembling:
— "I don't want to hear this… please…"
But he didn't finish the sentence.
He suddenly screamed—an unexpected, piercing cry.
They spun toward him.
His eyes widened, his voice shaking:
— "Something just passed by the window… something wearing my face!"
Cairen rushed to the window, flung it open. Nothing.
Nero trembled, collapsed onto the floor, muttering over and over:
— "No one there… no one there… but I saw me… I saw me…"
Cairen tried to grip his shoulder, to calm him, but Nero wasn't really present anymore.
Alicia looked at him, then softly began humming an old tune, a childish melody.
Nero seemed to recognize it… and slowly, slowly, he began to calm down.
He whispered:
— "Mom used to sing that to me… when I was scared…"
That evening, the wall began to pulse again.
Not all of it—just a single patch.
Cairen placed his palm there. It was burning hot, as if the wall were on fire inside.
He whispered:
— "Something's moving inside… or trying to get out…"
Nero staggered back, his voice broken:
— "Please don't touch it… please don't…"
Alicia stepped closer, then screamed suddenly:
— "Something moved! I saw a glint inside!"
They all recoiled.
And then, the wall breathed.
Yes. A long, heavy breath. As if something had awakened.
Cairen muttered under his breath:
— "Dear God… we're not alone here…"
Midnight.
They slept together in one room, afraid to separate.
But Nero woke first.
He heard faint footsteps. Like a small child walking barefoot.
He stepped into the hall.
And there… by the door…
His mother.
Yes, standing as she used to. Her face warm, her eyes wet.
She said softly:
— "I've come back, Nero. But I won't stay unless you open the door."
His hand reached for the handle…
But then… he remembered.
His mother had died months ago.
She had died while he stood there, watching her bleed slowly.
He recoiled, shouting:
— "You're not her! You're not my mom! My mom called for me when she was real!"
Alicia and Cairen jolted awake at his cries.
They rushed to him and found him on the floor, weeping, screaming:
— "I won't forget you, but I won't let them take me either!"
Cairen dashed to the door… no one there.
Only the faint scent of an old perfume… his mother's perfume.
The next day, no one could rise easily.
The very air felt heavier.
Alicia was vomiting blood…
Nero gasped silently, as if his throat refused to breathe.
Cairen carried Alicia, laid her on the couch, shouting:
— "Wake up! Say anything! Smell the neighborhood! Tell a dumb joke! Just speak!"
She opened her eyes, weakly, and whispered:
— "Nero… Cairen… If you stay… you'll melt away… like me."
Then she fainted.
Nero lunged at him:
— "It's your fault! We should've left this house the first day!"
Cairen shoved him back hard:
— "And you were crying to your mother at the door!"
Nero froze.
As if the hit wasn't physical… but the sting of truth.
After sunset… the red glow returned to the sky.
And on the wall, a final sentence appeared:
> "Tomorrow, the countdown begins.
Those not erased… will be tested."
Cairen read it aloud, his voice trembling:
— "What does that mean… tested? By who? How?"
Nero sank to the floor and began to laugh…
A hysterical, broken laugh.
The laugh of a child who had lost his compass.
He said:
— "You asked who? The question itself… is already a crime."