There was no morning for Shadow.
Only a change in the color of light behind the black curtains—from pitch darkness to a dull gray. The wall clock ticked softly, as if counting time that never truly moved forward. Each second sounded heavy, as though the room itself were breathing alongside his fear.
Shadow sat in the corner of the room, his back pressed against the cold wall. He pulled his knees to his chest, his hands trembling even though the air wasn't cold. The narrow room was filled with lifeless objects: a computer monitor glowing dimly, stacks of books never finished, and a thin mattress that more often served as a place to stare at the ceiling than to sleep.
The door was locked.
Always locked.
He had forgotten the last time he opened it with a calm heart. Even to get a glass of water, he waited until the house was completely silent. No footsteps. No television. No people.
People were the source of problems.
Shadow covered his ears when the sound of a motorcycle passed outside the house. His heart raced. His breathing shortened. For a moment, the sound twisted into laughter—old laughter that never truly disappeared.
"Look at him… so weird."
"Like a rat."
"No wonder he's always alone."
Shadow bit his lip hard. Those weren't real voices. He knew they were only memories. But to his mind, the past and the present no longer had a clear boundary.
He slowly stood and staggered toward the small mirror hanging on the wall. His reflection looked pale, his eyes sunken, his hair long and unkempt. The figure in the mirror looked like a shadow—no longer a whole human being.
"Shadow…" he murmured softly, as if calling his own name to make sure he still existed.
It wasn't his birth name. It was the name he chose after everything collapsed. A name that suited his life—always hiding, always behind, always unseen.
He sat in front of the computer and opened a blank document. His fingers hovered above the keyboard. A long time passed. As if he wasn't sure whether he could bear to remember today.
Writing was the only way Shadow survived. Words became the place where he poured out screams that never escaped his mouth.
He began to type.
Day 1. Or maybe day 1000. I don't know. Time stopped the moment I stopped leaving this room.
His hands froze again. His breath trembled.
The memories came without permission.
A long school hallway. The smell of damp floors. Shoes running behind him. A hard shove from his back. His body falling. Books scattering. Laughter. So much laughter.
No one helped.
A teacher passed by. Saw everything. Stayed silent.
Classmates stared. Then walked away.
Shadow squeezed his eyes shut. His head throbbed. He grabbed a bottle of pills from the desk and swallowed them without water. The bitterness spread across his tongue, but it was nothing compared to the bitterness of the memories.
"I'm not weak…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "They made me this way."
Outside the room, the faint clinking of a spoon against a plate echoed. Someone was home. That alone was enough to make Shadow's body tense.
He retreated back to the corner of the room, away from the door, as if the door might lunge at him at any moment. Cold sweat trickled down his temples. He closed his eyes, pressing his palm against his chest, trying to calm his heart as it ran wild.
The outside world was too big.
Too loud.
Too cruel.
This room was small, but it was safe.
Yet deep inside him, something began to stir. Not fear—but anger. Anger that had long been buried beneath terror. Anger that had grown quietly in the silence.
Shadow opened his eyes. His gaze was empty, but behind it burned a small flame.
"They're still out there…" he murmured. "Laughing. Living their lives. As if they never destroyed anyone."
His hands clenched into fists.
For the first time in a long while, his thoughts weren't filled only with the desire to hide… but with a terrifying question:
What if I go out?
The question made him tremble. Not because of hope—but because of what he might do if that door truly opened.
The wall clock ticked again.
Inside that narrow room, a hikikomori named Shadow sat in silence, unaware that his solitude was slowly turning into something far more dangerous.