The air in Akira's lungs burned as he ran.
His shoes hit the pavement again and again, his body moving on instinct, driven by something primal — terror and fury tangled into one.
The image from the surveillance footage wouldn't leave his mind.
> His sister. Standing beside someone who looked exactly like him.
Same dark eyes. Same build. Even the faint scar across the forehead — the mark Akira had carried since that night — was there, mirrored perfectly.
But that wasn't him.
That couldn't be him.
He turned another corner, the world around him blurring. His thoughts splintered with each heartbeat.
> "You've been so careful. But you can't hide her forever."
The voice from the apartment echoed in his skull. That calm, deliberate tone that sounded almost… proud.
Whoever this was — they weren't just impersonating him. They wanted him to see it.
They wanted him to break.
---
By the time Akira reached the train station, his breath was uneven. His phone buzzed again.
A message.
> "She trusts me more than she ever trusted you."
No number. No name.
Just that.
His grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles went white.
He wanted to scream, but instead, he opened the station CCTV app — the one he'd hacked months ago after the first threats began.
He scanned the feeds.
Nothing.
Then — a flash.
Platform 3. A girl with a small backpack. His sister.
And beside her — the double.
He moved like Akira. Walked like him. Even the small tilt of his head when speaking — perfect.
Akira stared, his stomach twisting. The man leaned close to his sister, whispering something that made her smile faintly.
That broke him.
He slammed his fist against the metal railing, the sound echoing across the empty street.
> "Who are you?" he muttered, voice shaking. "Why her?"
---
He boarded the next train toward the station, sitting near the door, unable to stay still. Every second felt like a countdown he couldn't stop.
The rhythmic clatter of the tracks drowned out his thoughts — until a voice came from behind him.
"Running from yourself, Akira?"
He froze.
Hayato stood in the aisle, arms crossed, expression calm but cold.
Akira's voice was rough. "You knew. You knew this would happen."
Hayato's gaze didn't waver. "I told you — someone's been waiting for this. And now, they've made their move."
Akira stood up, grabbing Hayato's collar. "Tell me who it is!"
Hayato didn't resist. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I can't. Not yet."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because you're walking straight into their hands."
Akira's grip loosened. "I don't care. If it means getting her back—"
Hayato cut him off, tone sharp. "Then be ready to see something you can't unsee."
The train screeched to a halt. Platform 3.
When Akira looked back, Hayato was gone.
---
The platform was almost empty.
Akira scanned the crowd — his pulse racing — until he saw her.
His sister. Standing near the vending machines, head bowed, scrolling on her phone.
Relief hit him like a wave — but only for a second.
Because standing a few meters away, leaning casually against a pillar, was him.
The double.
Same hair. Same scar. Same dead calm in the eyes.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then, the double smiled — slow and knowing — and walked toward the stairs.
Akira's heart pounded. "No…"
He ran.
The double turned a corner, slipping into a maintenance corridor behind the platform. Akira followed, ignoring the shouts from nearby guards.
The air grew colder inside the corridor — narrow, dimly lit, lined with humming electrical panels. He caught glimpses of movement ahead — a shadow turning right, then disappearing.
Akira picked up his pace. "Stop! Who are you?!"
No answer.
Only his own echo.
---
Then — a metallic click behind him.
He spun around.
The door had shut.
A faint buzz filled the air — and the lights flickered.
A screen on the far wall blinked on, static crackling before a video began to play.
The footage was grainy — taken from a hidden camera.
Akira's heart stopped.
It was his apartment.
The night of the incident.
The night he'd lost control.
He watched himself — the younger version — standing over his father, blood on his hands, horror frozen on his face.
The memory hit him like a blade, sharper than before.
But then the camera panned slightly… revealing something he'd never seen before.
Another figure.
Standing in the doorway.
Watching.
The same scar.
The same face.
Akira's breath caught. "No…"
The voice came from the speaker — distorted, but unmistakable.
> "I didn't kill him, Akira. You did. But I cleaned your mess. I became what you couldn't."
The screen flickered again — showing newer footage now.
His sister walking to school. The double behind her. Smiling.
> "She doesn't fear me. Because to her… I'm the better you."
Akira's fists trembled. "You're not real."
The laughter that followed was quiet. Chilling.
> "Aren't I?"
The screen shut off.
And from the darkness ahead — footsteps.
Slow. Echoing.
Akira turned — and saw himself step out of the shadows.
Same eyes. Same scar. Same everything.
Except for one difference.
The other Akira was smiling.
"You finally caught up," the double said, voice calm, almost kind. "Took you long enough."
Akira's voice cracked. "What are you?"
The double tilted his head. "The truth you buried. The one you killed to survive. The part of you that refused to die that night."
He stepped closer, eyes glinting under the dim light.
"You created me."
---
For a moment, the world tilted — reality bending around the words.
Akira stepped back, shaking his head. "You're lying."
"Am I?" The double's expression softened. "You think guilt just disappears, Akira? No. It takes shape. It learns to breathe. To walk. To hunt."
He smiled again, wider this time. "You wanted redemption. I wanted control."
He stopped just a few feet away, voice dropping to a whisper.
"And now I have her."
Akira lunged — rage exploding — but the double moved first, sidestepping with impossible speed. He whispered near Akira's ear as he passed.
> "You can't kill me. I'm already inside you."
Then — darkness.
A sharp pain hit the back of Akira's skull, and everything went black.
---
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on the cold floor. The corridor was empty. No sign of the double. Only a phone lying beside him — his sister's phone.
He picked it up with trembling hands.
The screen flickered once, then displayed a single new message.
> "If you want her back… come home."
Akira's reflection stared back from the black screen — pale, trembling, and terrified.
But this time, for just a second,
the reflection smiled back.
---
End of Chapter 7