Aira noticed them that same night.
Not shadows.
Not voices.
But absence.
People around her moved as usual, yet there were gaps between moments—brief pauses where time itself seemed to hesitate. And in those gaps… something was watching.
Her phone lit up.
"High-level surveillance activated."
She read it calmly. "Who are you?"
The reply came slowly, line by line.
"We are the Watchers."
"And you are now within our field of sight."
Aira stopped walking.
"You created the contract?"
"The contract predates language."
It didn't sound like a threat—
more like a fact.
"Full Witnesses rarely last."
She pocketed the phone. If this was meant to frighten her, the response didn't come. Instead, something colder surfaced—curiosity.
She reached her apartment.
The door opened without a key.
Inside, a woman waited—well-dressed, her face too ordinary to remember.
"Sit," the woman said.
Aira did.
"We cannot interfere directly," the woman continued. "But we can guide."
"Toward what?" Aira asked.
The woman smiled faintly. "Balance."
Aira let out a small laugh. "By erasing empathy?"
"Humanity is interference," the woman replied calmly. "Empathy distorts truth."
Aira studied her. "Farid is still alive."
The smile didn't fade. "For now."
It was a warning.
Aira's phone vibrated.
"Anomaly detected."
"Another witness nearing awakening."
"I'm not the only one?" Aira asked.
The woman stood. "Never were."
Before vanishing, she left one final line:
"If you remain obedient, you will be protected.
If you begin to feel again—
you will become a target."
Silence returned to the room.
Aira stood by the window.
For the first time since her empathy was disabled, a question surfaced—
not an emotion,
but an intention.
If every witness is eventually discarded…
what is the contract truly for?