I was just an ordinary worker who had recently turned 25. That day, the sun was still high in the sky when I finished my office tasks earlier than scheduled.
The monthly report project, which I thought would take all day, was completed in just a few hours thanks to the help of a kind colleague.
With a step lighter than usual, I decided not to head straight back to my small boarding house, opting instead for a stroll down a quiet side street.
My stomach rumbled slightly, but what caught my attention first was a small shop nestled on a street corner I usually bypassed without a second thought.
An old wooden signboard read "The Epoch Watch Shop" in letters that had begun to fade. The shop window was filled with various antique timepieces—from uniquely shaped wall clocks and large mantel clocks to classic wristwatches.
I remembered that my alarm clock at home had broken a few days ago.
Without it, I was forced to wake up long before dawn just to ensure I wasn't late for work. That thought prompted me to step inside. The air within was cool, smelling of old wood mixed with a soft scent of candle wax.
Golden chandeliers illuminated every corner, making each clock appear even more enchanting.
I walked slowly through the aisles of shelves, looking at each piece with admiration.
Finally, my eyes settled on a small clock placed in the deepest corner of the bottom shelf. It was circular, crafted from dark wood with fine engravings, and the numerals on its face were made of shimmering silver.
The hands moved with a soft, steady click, as if singing to themselves.
Without a second thought, I approached the cashier. A woman with curly white hair stood there with her arms crossed, watching me with a warm smile. She appeared elderly, yet her eyes remained bright and sharp.
"How much for this clock?" I asked, lifting the small timepiece carefully.
The shopkeeper nodded slowly, her smile widening. "Oh, you may take it. I no longer need it; I am far too old to use that clock," she said in a voice that was gentle yet clear.
I was slightly confused. What did she mean by being "too old to use it"? Didn't older people usually cherish antiques like this for their sense of memory and eternity? I quickly shook the thought from my head, making sure I didn't voice anything that might be taken as an insult.
Before I could ask further, she spoke again. "It is a small gift for someone celebrating their birthday."
My heart jumped in surprise and warmth.
I accepted the clock with slightly trembling hands, filled with gratitude. "Thank you so much, ma'am. But... how did you know today was my birthday?" I asked, overcome with curiosity.
I turned to look at her face again, but my eyes instantly froze at my surroundings.
The shop that had looked beautiful and well-maintained just moments ago had completely transformed.
The walls were riddled with holes, the shelves had collapsed, and the neatly arranged items were now scattered like junk in a scrapyard.
The chandelier light had vanished, replaced by a dim glow from outside that made the corners of the room look sinister.
"Does this make any sense?" I whispered to myself, my voice shaking. "A seller I don't even know knows my birthday, and her shop suddenly turns into a ruin?"
I bolted out of the shop, tucking the small clock carefully into my jacket pocket.
The sky that had been bright was now pitch black, with dark clouds gathering rapidly above me. The wind began to howl, carrying a cold that bit deep into my bones.
Suddenly, lightning struck with a blinding flash, followed by a deafening roar of thunder. I looked into the distance and was horrified to find not one, but two thunderstorms appearing abruptly in the city sky.
The smaller storm seemed to move slowly, while the larger, more terrifying one moved much faster.
Driven by instinct, I ran toward the tallest skyscraper nearby—a 45-story office building that was usually bustling. Today, however, it was eerily silent.
I burst through the entrance and ran to the elevators, pressing the button for the 20th floor with trembling hands.
I didn't know why I chose that floor; I just felt that seeing the city from a height would help me understand what was happening.
When the elevator doors opened, I ran to an open terrace.
From there, I could see almost the entire city. What I saw left me speechless.
The two storms were rotating clockwise—the smaller storm moved like the hour hand of a clock, while the larger one moved like the minute hand.
I looked down at my wrist and pulled out the small clock from the shop. My eyes widened as I saw the hands of the clock moving far faster than normal.
Every passing second felt unnervingly accelerated.
"This is too strange," I whispered, rubbing the surface of the clock with my thumb. "Is time moving too fast?"
I observed the storms' movements carefully, calculating their rotations. After a moment, a clear pattern emerged. "It seems the storms are following the direction of a clock," I muttered.
"Which means they will just circle this city like a giant timepiece."
Worried for the safety of anyone else in the building, I hurried downstairs via the emergency exit. Reaching the lobby, I saw a group of panicked people huddled in a corner. Some were crying; others whispered in trembling voices.
I did a quick count—there were at least 20 people in the building, including myself.
"Can anyone explain what's going on?" a man in a rumpled business suit shouted over the murmurs.
I stepped forward, feeling the need to take charge.
"We have to leave this building right now!" I yelled, loud enough to grab everyone's attention.
"If the storm is rotating like a clock, it will reach this location in about 20 minutes.
But because time seems to be accelerated—1 minute is becoming 10 seconds—we have almost no time left!"
Everyone turned toward me, some with looks of disbelief, others with a flicker of hope.
A well-built man with short brown hair approached me, looking utterly bewildered.
"My name is Ethan," I said, extending my hand.
He gripped my hand tightly.
"Hi, Ethan. I'm Smith." He looked at me with confusion. "Um... how do you know the storm is coming here?"
"I calculated it," I replied, showing him the small clock in my hand. "The storm follows a clockwise path, but at an accelerated speed—every minute that should pass only lasts 10 seconds."
Smith frowned, appearing not to understand at all. "What is that... a 'clock'?"
His words stunned me. Was it possible for someone not to know what a clock was? I looked around, searching for any sign that he was joking.
"Don't joke at a time like this, Smith," I said, my voice rising in anger. "We are in grave danger!"
But Smith's expression remained blank.
I tried talking to others—a man with thick glasses, a woman with tangled long hair, even a teenager in a school uniform. They all gave the same answer: they didn't know what a clock was.
With a racing heart, I began searching for any form of a timepiece in the building—the lobby wall clock, the desk clock at reception, even a wristwatch on someone's arm.
I found nothing. Everything that usually told time was gone, as if it had never existed.
"So strange," I whispered. "Has everyone forgotten what a clock is? Then why haven't I?"
The intrusive thought made my head spin, but I realized now wasn't the time for existential questions. I had to focus on getting everyone to safety.
"Let's get out of here!" I shouted again, more firmly.
"We need to find a safer place, far from the storm's path!"
But one of the women shook her head slowly.
"What do you mean 'move to another building,' young man?" she asked in a voice full of soft despair. "There are no other buildings left in this city."
I ran to the large lobby window and yanked the curtains open. What I saw made me feel like the world was turning upside down.
Every building around us—the other offices, the apartment blocks, even the usually crowded city park—was gone. All that remained was flat, empty earth and a few unrecognizable ruins.
How was this possible? If the storm had been rotating for over an hour, the city should be in ruins, yet the building we were in didn't have a single scratch.
There was no debris around us, no sign of destruction. It was as if the storm wasn't just destroying buildings—it was erasing them entirely from the face of the earth.
"What is actually happening?" I murmured, staring into the distance where the two storms continued to spin like a giant clock, ruling over the desolate city.