Three days passed. Life, on the surface, went on exactly as it always had.
Charlie went to school. Laughed with his friends. Loitered outside the gate after classes ended. Helped his parents in the bakery, dusting sugar over pastries and wrapping loaves in crisp paper.
The rain had stopped, replaced by bright skies and the faint smell of drying earth. If not for that… gap in his memory, he might have convinced himself that night never happened.
And yet…
When the sun dipped below the horizon, something shifted. The air around him seemed heavier. Shadows felt deeper, the stillness sharper. And that feeling… that uneasy prickling at the back of his neck.
Like something … no, someone was watching him. More like waiting for him.
But he never saw anything when he turned around, never heard a voice when he tried to listen carefully. But it was there, always there.
That night, the clock in the bakery read 11:02 pm when it happened.
The last customers had left half an hour ago, and the two workers were already cleaning up before heading home. Charlie was wiping the glass counter when his father's voice broke the quiet.
"Charlie," his father said, holding out a small paper bag, "we just got a late-night order. It's close by — only a five-minute ride."
Charlie looked at the bag, then at the clock.
"…Now?"
"Now," his father confirmed.
"The workers are done for the night, and I need to finish the day's accounts. Your mother's already packed it."
His mother appeared from the kitchen, smiling warmly as she held out the bag.
"Be quick, okay? And don't talk to strangers. Come straight back."
Charlie wanted to tell her he didn't feel like going. That there was something wrong about going out so late. That the night air felt… like he was being watched.
But he had never been the kind of son to disobey.
"…Alright."
He said, forcing a small smile.
He wheeled out the shop's old delivery bicycle. His mother placed the bag in the basket, gave him a little pat on the shoulder, and said, "Good luck, and hurry home."
He nodded, climbed onto the seat, and started pedaling into the quiet night.
The address was barely five minutes away. Even so, he kept his pace moderate… not too fast, not too slow. He tried to focus on the rhythm of the pedals, the soft creak of the bicycle chain, the faint rattle of the bag in the basket.
But the uneasiness followed.
Every turn of the wheel, every stretch of empty road, that feeling of being observed stayed glued to his back.
He tightened his grip on the handlebars, eyes flicking to every shadow along the street. Nothing moved. Not even a stray cat.
Just deliver the order and get home, he told himself. That's it.
The building came into view.
It was tall, ten floors at least, with faded paint and balconies lined with rusted railings. No guards at the gate. No lights in the lobby.
Charlie slowed to a stop at the entrance, the quiet pressing into his ears. From here, it wasn't hard to see why people avoided this place. Most of the windows were dark. Some were even boarded up.
He swallowed, locked his bicycle to a railing, and stepped inside.
The lobby smelled faintly of dust and damp cement. The single bulb overhead was dead, leaving the place in a shadowy half-light from the street outside.
Why would someone order food from here?
The question stuck in his mind as he searched for the elevator.
It was tucked away in a corner, and to his surprise, it worked. He stepped in quickly, pressing the button for the 10th floor, the address written on the receipt.
The doors slid shut.
The elevator hummed, rising slowly. The narrow space felt tighter than it should.
Questions crowded his head:
Who lives here? Why so high up? Why at night?
The uneasiness grew sharper.
Ding.
The doors opened to a hallway stretched long and narrow, the kind you didn't want to be stuck in. The lights overhead flickered in a lazy, on-off rhythm, throwing thin shadows across the walls.
Apartment 1002 was at the far end.
Charlie's footsteps echoed as he walked. Every flicker of the lights made the hallway seem longer than it was. By the time he reached the door, he had already decided.
Deliver, turn, run.
He knocked.
For a moment, silence. Then — the soft click of a lock.
The door creaked open.
She stood there.
A girl, slightly shorter than him. Silver hair that shimmered even in the dim light. Silver eyes — with emerald pupils that caught the flicker of the hallway bulb like fragments of polished glass.
Charlie froze. Something in his chest jolted. I've seen her before… But the memory slipped away as soon as it surfaced.
He forced himself to hold out the bag. "Uh… your order."
She smiled, her voice smooth and warm. "This isn't the order I placed, actually."
Before his brain could form a reply, her hand, which was cold and unyielding, wrapped around his wrist and pulled him inside.
The paper bag tumbled from his grasp. The door swung shut behind them with a soft thunk.
Charlie stumbled backward, but her grip didn't loosen. It tightened, forcing him toward the center of the room.
Her strength was unreal, not crushing bone, but pressing hard enough that escape felt impossible. His back hit the floor, the air rushing from his lungs.
The room was dim, lit only by the full moon spilling through the balcony window. In the glass, he saw himself pinned on the floor.
Only himself.
No girl.
The reflection made his skin crawl. This… he'd felt this before. The cold grip. The moonlight. The emptiness in the glass.
Her face leaned closer, her hair brushing his cheek as she whispered, "The real order… was you."
His pulse hammered in his ears. The uneasiness of the past three nights, the strange familiarity … all of it crashed together in his head.
"W–Who are you?" he managed to choke out.
She tilted her head, her smile deepening just slightly. "Oh… you don't remember? That's a shame. I remember you perfectly."
Charlie's chest tightened. His breathing felt short, like the room was shrinking around him. "Why do you…"
"Shhh." Her cold fingers pressed lightly against his lips.
"Questions later. For now… I'm hungry."
The moonlight caught in her eyes, making the emeralds in her pupils glow faintly.
And just like before, Charlie's body refused to move.