The silence after that voice was almost alive.
It clung to the air like mist, soft and heavy. Ren sat up, chest tightening, the sheet tangled around his legs. For a second he could hear nothing but the rush of his own pulse. The light switch clicked under his trembling fingers.
White spilled across the room... warm, ordinary light that should have erased fear. But it didn't. The corners still held their shadows; they seemed thicker than before, like the dark hadn't been chased away, only made to wait.
He scanned the room... desk, glass of water, suitcase half-open, towel folded neatly where he'd left it. Nothing moved.
Yet something in the air had shifted, the temperature, the weight of it.
He heard a sound... faint, like the swish of fabric against the balcony curtain. His skin prickled.
Slowly, barefoot, he walked toward it. The handle was cool beneath his hand.
When he pulled the door open, the night unfolded before him.
The city lay far below, a sea of silver and gold lights pulsing in rhythm with the clouds. The rain had stopped again, leaving drops clinging to the glass rail like beads of mercury. The wind carried the scent of wet stone and flowers he couldn't name. Above, the sky was bruised violet; a single star hung low, trembling as if it too was watching.
Ren's fear faltered under the sheer beauty of it.
He pressed both hands to the rail. The cold bit into his skin, grounding him. Somewhere far away, a train crossed a bridge, its sound drawn out and lonely.
For a moment he forgot the voice. He forgot the house. The world outside felt infinite and clean.
Then his phone rang.
A bright, ordinary sound... too ordinary.
He froze. The tone was unmistakable: his own ringtone, the one he'd set months ago, back when life still had shape and noise and people in it.
But his phone was gone. It had been stolen on that street.
The sound came again, muffled, from inside the room.
Ren's heartbeat tripped over itself. He spun and ran toward it.
The ringing led him to the bedside table.
There... lying exactly where it had never been... was his phone. Screen glowing, raindrops dried on the glass, battery icon steady at 67%.
His fingers shook as he picked it up.
Unknown number.
"H-hello?" he whispered. His voice cracked on the second syllable.
Nothing. Only a faint hum, like air moving through a wire.
He tried again. "Who is this?"
The silence stretched. Then a voice... low, rough, almost human... slid through the speaker.
"I'll kill whoever touches you."
A click. The line went dead.
Ren's breath caught. He stared at the screen until it dimmed to black, his reflection staring back. The words clung to the inside of his skull, looping: I'll kill whoever touches you.
He swallowed, tried to call back.
The number did not exist.
The phrase repeated on the screen, mechanical and final.
He lowered the phone slowly, set it on the table as if it might burn him.
His heart was still hammering, yet the rest of his body felt distant, detached — like watching himself from across the room.
What is happening to me?
He pressed both palms to his face. His skin was cold, his mouth dry. The world felt tilted.
And then, through the crack of the balcony door, a sound began... faint at first, almost the echo of memory.
Music.
A melody that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
No instrument he could name. Notes soft as breath, rising and falling like waves against the shore. Each tone shimmered in the air, brushing against him, carrying something sweet and unbearable.
He turned toward it, drawn.
The sound was alive.
He stepped back into the hall, phone forgotten. The music led him through the quiet house, past the stairwell where light pooled like water. His footsteps echoed softly.
He followed the melody down a corridor lined with glass. Outside, the garden glowed faintly under moonlight... every drop of rain reflecting silver.
The song thickened around him, wrapping itself in his thoughts. It wasn't just heard; it was felt... behind the ribs, beneath the skin. With each note, his eyelids grew heavier.
A warmth spread through his limbs, slow and golden.
He wanted to stay awake. He told himself to keep walking, to find the source. But the sound carried weight, a lullaby woven from exhaustion itself.
It's fine. Just… listen.
His mind folded around the sound. His body moved without him, back toward the room.
He half-remembered closing the door, half-remembered the whisper of fabric as he sat on the edge of the bed again.
The music throbbed softly now, like a heartbeat in the walls. His vision blurred. The lamp dimmed to amber.
He lay down, the pillow cool against his cheek.
The last coherent thought he managed was that the sheets smelled faintly of smoke and rain again... the same scent that followed that man.
Then came warmth.
Not from the blanket. Something deeper.
The air above him seemed to breathe. The shadows along the ceiling thickened, slowly unspooling into shape... not fully human, not entirely formless either. The darkness gathered at the edge of the bed, leaned close until he could almost feel the weight of its gaze, it hugged him... ren felt this kind of warmth for the first time in years.
Ren's eyes fluttered open for an instant.
Nothing there... only the faint shimmer of air disturbed, as if a silhouette had dissolved a second too late.
He might have imagined the whisper that followed.
It wasn't a word so much as a pulse against his skin.
It said: Rest my prince.
His muscles loosened, his breath slowing to match that invisible rhythm. The warmth folded over him, heavy and calm. He thought of the night outside... the endless city lights, the wind still humming through the trees... and somewhere deep in that thought, he felt something like an arm across his shoulder, weightless, steady.
You're safe, he told himself. Or maybe something told him.
The music sank lower, slower, until it was part of the heartbeat of the house itself.
Ren's lips moved, forming a sound he couldn't quite hear. Maybe a name. Maybe a prayer.
Sleep came like water closing over his head... smooth, soundless, inevitable.
Outside, the rain began again, soft as a sigh. The balcony curtains swayed though no wind touched them.
From the far end of the hall, one of the closed doors clicked open and then shut, quiet as a breath drawn in.
In the room, Ren slept, one hand curled near his throat, the faint mark on his nape glowing pale gold in the dark... and above him, the shadow lingered, patient and still, as if keeping watch.
End of Chapter...