Chapter 3: The Harbinger's Shadow
Shredded Through Despair
POV: Mixed (Marino · Reika · Unknown)
There's a peculiar quiet that lingers after rain — a stillness so delicate it almost feels like the world is holding its breath.
For the first time since my fall, I found myself enjoying that quiet. The chaos of the human world — the constant noise, the uncertainty — had started to feel less like a burden and more like… life.
But I wasn't foolish enough to believe it would last.
The night the Enforcers came, the message had been clear: I was treading on forbidden ground. Every step I took closer to Reika brought me closer to a line that should never be crossed.
And now, I could feel the consequences gathering on the horizon.
It started small.
A flicker of movement at the edge of my vision during class. A reflection in the window that didn't match reality. The faint taste of ozone in the air, even on clear days.
Something was watching us.
No — not something. Someone.
The bell rang, signaling the end of first period. Chairs scraped, conversations erupted, and students poured into the hallway. I lingered, staring at the faint distortion rippling across the windowpane. To anyone else, it was nothing. To me, it was a signature — a calling card burned into the fabric of space itself.
The Harbinger had arrived.
"Yo, Soohyuk!" Takeda slapped my shoulder as he passed. "You coming to the club fair after class?"
"Maybe," I murmured without looking at him.
"Man, you're always spacing out," he laughed. "You sure you're not secretly an alien?"
Closer than you know.
"Marino."
The voice pulled me back to reality. Reika stood by the door, clutching a stack of notebooks against her chest. Her eyes — distant as always — softened slightly when they met mine.
"Are you busy after school?" she asked.
I blinked. "Not particularly. Why?"
"Would you… walk home with me?"
I hesitated. Not because I didn't want to — I did, more than I was willing to admit — but because something in the air felt wrong. The Harbinger's presence was stronger today, coiling tighter around us with every passing hour.
Still, I smiled. "Of course."
"Good." She nodded, then added, almost too quietly to hear: "I… don't like walking alone."
The day passed in a blur of chalk dust and monotone lectures. I caught myself glancing at Reika more often than I should have — not out of obsession, but out of caution. Her movements, her expressions, even the way she held her pen — everything felt… fragile.
There was a heaviness behind her silence that most people ignored. But I'd spent eternities studying the subtleties of despair. I knew its shape.
And hers was deep.
When the final bell rang, we walked side by side through the crowded school gate. The late afternoon sun bathed the city in gold, and for a fleeting moment, it almost felt normal. Like we were just two teenagers heading home, not a cursed soul and a fallen cosmic being defying the architects of reality.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Reika asked suddenly.
The question caught me off guard. "Sometimes."
"What do you see?"
I thought about answering honestly — about telling her that I saw endless threads of fate, branching and merging, each one a possibility doomed to collapse. But instead, I said, "Something peaceful. Quiet."
"Peaceful…" She repeated the word like it was foreign. "I don't think I'll ever have that."
"Why not?"
"Because people like me don't get peace."
There was no bitterness in her tone. Just certainty. A statement of fact carved into her bones.
I stopped walking. "Reika. Whatever happened to you—"
"It's not about what happened," she interrupted softly. "It's about what always happens."
I didn't press her further. I couldn't — not yet. But in that moment, I made a silent vow: no matter what the Architects had written, I would rewrite it.
Even if it destroyed me.
That night, the dreams returned.
Not mine — hers.
The world was dark and colorless. Rain hammered against the pavement, soaking through my uniform. I was running — from what, I didn't know — but every breath burned, every step felt like it would be my last.
"Please…" A voice — my voice — echoed through the void. "Please don't leave me…"
I turned a corner, and there she was. Reika. Kneeling in the rain, clutching a shattered photograph to her chest. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
"Reika!" I tried to reach her, but my feet wouldn't move. The distance between us stretched, infinite and cruel.
She looked up — and her eyes were empty.
"This is all I am," she whispered. "All I'll ever be."
And then she was gone.
I woke with a start, heart pounding, sheets tangled around me. The dream faded quickly, but the feeling lingered — that same heavy despair, now etched into my chest like a scar.
These weren't just nightmares. They were memories.
Hers.
The next morning, I noticed it — the first undeniable sign.
The sky over Tokyo was wrong. It was too still, too pale. Birds circled in erratic patterns, and the air hummed with a frequency no human could hear.
The Harbinger was near.
By lunch, I was certain. Shadows moved against the light. Reflections twisted in unnatural ways. And then, in the courtyard, I saw him.
At first glance, he looked like any other student — tall, slender, his uniform immaculate. But his eyes… his eyes were pits of starlight, swirling with ancient malice.
He smiled when he saw me, a slow, deliberate smile that said I know what you are.
Our gazes locked across the courtyard.
You should not have come here, Watcher.
The voice wasn't spoken. It slithered directly into my mind, cold and precise.
You are trespassing in a narrative not yours to change.
I didn't respond. Couldn't. Because in that instant, I realized something terrifying.
The Harbinger wasn't here to kill me.
He was here to tempt me.
Reika noticed my sudden tension. "Marino? What's wrong?"
I forced a smile. "Nothing. Just… thinking."
"About?"
"About rain."
She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.
Far above us, unseen and unfelt by any mortal, the Harbinger watched. His gaze lingered on Reika, and for the briefest moment, something like pity flickered across his expression.
Poor little soul.
Even salvation will destroy you.
POV: Reika
There was something strange about him — about Marino. He was always so calm, so composed, yet sometimes I caught glimpses of something behind his eyes. Something ancient. Something sad.
And every time he looked at me, I felt… seen. Not in the way boys look at girls, but in the way someone recognizes a ghost in the mirror.
Maybe that was why I didn't push him away.
Or maybe it was because I was tired of being alone.
She didn't know I was watching her. No one did. But as I stood beneath the ginkgo trees and watched Reika stare absently at the falling leaves, I felt something I had never felt before.
Fear.
Because for the first time, I wasn't just watching despair unfold.
I was part of it