That morning, a thin veil of mist still hung low over the city streets.
Elias Solstice's footsteps fell softly against the pavement, still damp with dew. His black boots met the asphalt with steady, weighted calm. The faded black long coat he wore shifted gently in the morning breeze, its collar half open to reveal a plain purple shirt beneath.
He walked without haste.
He always did.
Along the road, utility poles and shop walls were plastered with posters.
Missing persons.
Some were worn and curling at the edges. Others were official police notices displaying photographs of unidentified bodies found on the outskirts of the city.
Elias paused.
Not out of fear.
Only… to observe.
His steady gaze settled on one poster—a woman in her thirties. Last seen two weeks ago.
Beneath it, handwritten words read:
"If you find this woman, please contact this number."
The wind brushed the paper, making it tremble faintly.
Elias studied it for a long moment.
(There have been so many disappearances lately.)
He exhaled once, quietly. As always.
Then he continued walking.
---
The bell chimed as he pushed open the glass door of the restaurant where he worked.
"Good morning!" a cheerful voice called from inside.
The aroma of garlic and warm broth immediately filled the air.
The kitchen was already alive.
Knives struck cutting boards. Pans hissed. Metal spoons clinked against pots.
Elias hung his coat inside a small locker at the back. His movements were precise, economical—no wasted motion. He unbuttoned the coat slowly, removing it with deliberate care, as though it were part of a ritual.
His chef's uniform waited inside.
A crisp white top. Bright yellow trousers.
A stark contrast to his usual attire.
He dressed calmly, fastening each button without rushing. He tied his apron. Drew in a quiet breath before stepping into the kitchen.
"Morning, Elias!" a staff member called out.
He gave a slight nod. "Morning."
Nothing more.
A knife was in his hand seconds later.
His movements were exact. Carrots cut into uniform slices. Onions finely shaved with minimal sound. The stove flame burned a steady blue beneath the pan.
He worked like a machine that could think.
Silent.
Efficient.
Composed.
Yet his mind replayed the posters from earlier.
Lunch hour arrived in a surge of customers.
Plates clattered. Orders were shouted. Oil crackled.
"Two special ramen! One without scallions!" a server yelled.
"Coming!" Elias responded briefly.
A thin sheen of sweat dampened his temple, but his expression remained flat.
When the rush finally subsided, the kitchen exhaled into stillness.
Elias removed his chef's hat and sat on a metal stool near the back door. Outside air drifted in, carrying the scent of sun-warmed asphalt.
Kevin was already there, holding a canned drink. His hair was slightly messy, his eyes bright with energy.
"Did you see the news this morning?" Kevin asked without preamble.
Elias opened his small lunchbox. "No."
Kevin leaned closer, lowering his voice as if revealing a grand secret.
"There've been tons of disappearances lately. They're saying…" he paused dramatically, "…it's a Skinwalker."
Elias stopped chewing.
He did not answer immediately.
He never did.
He analyzed first.
"A Skinwalker?" he repeated at last.
Kevin nodded quickly. "Something that can shed its skin. Disguise itself as other people."
Elias glanced at the soda can in Kevin's hand, then toward the street beyond.
Wind pushed a plastic bag along the sidewalk.
"You actually believe that?" Elias asked evenly. "We live in the modern era, Kev. Not the Dark Ages."
Kevin frowned. "But what if it's real? What if the government knows… and they're just keeping quiet?"
Elias exhaled once.
"If such a creature existed and could merely change skins," he said calmly, "the government would have more than enough weapons to deal with it."
Kevin leaned forward. "Then why did the police say that if we meet someone we know but something feels off, we should run? Why are they banning people from entering abandoned buildings? Especially that old mall?"
Elias narrowed his eyes slightly.
The abandoned mall.
He knew it.
A massive structure at the edge of the city. Vacant for years.
"Perhaps kidnappers are getting smarter," Elias replied. "Or it's an intelligence operation. Or something far more reasonable than a mythical being."
Kevin studied him for a few seconds, then smirked.
"Then prove it."
Elias raised a faint brow.
"Prove Skinwalkers don't exist. Let's go to the mall. Livestream it. Show everyone it's just a rumor."
Elias fell silent.
The wind brushed his face.
(The mall has been a topic of conversation lately.)
He pictured dark corridors. Dead escalators. Empty stores.
(There are no mythical creatures there. Just an empty building.)
"Hm." He looked at Kevin. "Do I get paid?"
Kevin's grin widened. "Of course! My livestream views will skyrocket."
Elias sighed softly.
He wasn't afraid.
He didn't believe in such things.
But the posters from that morning resurfaced in his mind.
Faces that never returned.
(…Probably just coincidence.)
He stood slowly.
"What about tonight?" he said. "We're off tomorrow."
Kevin nearly jumped. "Seriously?! That works!"
Elias gave a small nod.
"Ten P.M.," Kevin said eagerly. "Better atmosphere."
"I'll use your account," Elias stated flatly.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll handle the camera."
Elias nodded once more.
Conversation over.
Yet even after Kevin went back inside, Elias remained there a few seconds longer.
The wind stirred his hair.
He looked at the empty street.
A missing-person poster clung to a pole.
One peeled loose and fell onto the asphalt.
Elias watched it.
An odd sensation touched his chest—not fear.
More like… a subtle disturbance in logic.
(If it's all just rumor…)
(Why does the city feel like it's hiding something?)
He exhaled once more.
Then went back inside.
---
It was 10:03 P.M. when Kevin's old car turned into the cracked parking lot.
The engine hummed softly before cutting off.
Silence.
Before them stood a towering, dark structure. Its sign still hung crooked above the main entrance:BARINA MALL
Several letters were dead. The remaining neon flickered weakly, like a dying breath.
Elias Solstice remained seated for a few seconds before opening the door.
His hand did not move at once. He studied the building through the windshield. His faint reflection stared back—calm, unreadable.
(Calm. It's just an empty building.)
He exhaled once.
Then stepped out.
The night air felt colder than it should have. Wind slipped through the rusted metal frames of the parking structure, producing thin, irregular whistles.
Kevin emerged from the driver's side, lifting his livestream camera. It was more advanced than a standard model—large lens, transmission module attached, a small blue indicator blinking.
"I'll do the opening," Kevin said, adjusting the focus ring, his face glowing with enthusiasm.
Elias nodded slightly. "Fine."
His gaze remained fixed on the mall.
Second-floor windows resembled hollow eyes.
Kevin checked the signal indicator. "Hmm… the livestream's unstable. Signal's terrible here."
Elias scanned the surroundings.
He stepped several meters aside, his boots crunching lightly over shattered glass. Near the building lay several smashed speakers, their cables torn out like violently extracted entrails.
Not far away stood a tilted signal tower. Its metal frame was twisted, as though bent by colossal hands.
"Oh." Elias pointed. "That explains it. The tower's damaged."
Kevin looked up. "Oh… right."
The wind blew again.
No city noise. No cars. No barking dogs.
As though this area had been cut away from the world.
Kevin forced a casual tone. "Well, let's just start. If the signal drops, Well that's that then."
Elias studied him briefly.
Silent.
He exhaled once more. "Alright."
---
Minutes later, they stood inside the mall.
The main glass doors had long since shattered. Elias pushed one inward gently; the hinge groaned in protest.
Their first steps on the granite floor echoed through the hollow expanse.
Kevin raised the camera. Its mounted light illuminated floating dust like fine particles on a stage.
"Good evening, everyone!" Kevin spoke brightly into the lens. "We're here at Barina Mall—supposedly the nest of a Skinwalker!"
Elias stood slightly ahead.
His posture straight. The black coat falling in clean lines. One hand in his pocket, though his shoulders were subtly tense.
His eyes moved slowly, scanning.
Empty storefronts. Dead escalators. Peeling discount posters.
And then—
Something out of place.
He approached a corner.
"Kev," he called quietly.
Kevin followed, camera trailing.
Electronic debris littered the floor.
Speakers smashed with blunt force. Television screens fractured into spiderweb patterns. A laptop pried open, keyboard torn loose. Sound systems destroyed down to their inner wiring.
Several ceiling CCTV units had been forcibly ripped out.
Near the base of an escalator lay three walkie-talkies.
Shattered.
Antennas snapped.
Elias crouched, picking one up. He turned it slowly, examining the deep gouges along its casing.
"Why are all the electronics destroyed?" he murmured.
Kevin angled the camera closer. "Maybe… so no one can spy?"
Elias didn't answer.
(This isn't random damage.)
"It's systematic," he said quietly. "Everything capable of transmitting or receiving signals has been destroyed."
Kevin attempted humor, though his voice was softer now. "Maybe Skinwalkers don't like being watched?"
Elias cast him a sideways glance. "I told you. There's no such creature."
The camera light flickered.
The signal indicator shrank.
Kevin checked the display. "Hey… the signal's dropping."
Seconds later, the screen displayed:NO SIGNAL
The livestream light went dark.
"Great. Disconnected," Kevin muttered.
Silence swallowed them again.
And within that silence—
Footsteps.
Slow.
From the corridor to the right.
Elias did not turn immediately.
He froze for a fraction of a second.
(Footsteps.)
Too steady for an animal.
Kevin swung his flashlight toward the hallway.
White light cut through the darkness.
A figure emerged.
A police officer.
Full uniform. Cap. Belt. Badge reflecting the beam.
He approached with measured steps.
Kevin exhaled softly. "Oh… officer?"
Elias remained silent.
Kevin glanced at the camera screen, still powered though offline.
On it—
Text appeared.
RUN!!
Kevin blinked.
"What…?"
The text flashed again.
RUN!! NOW!!
Kevin swallowed. "Lis…"
The officer stopped roughly five meters away.
He smiled.
"Sorry," he said flatly. His voice sounded recorded—then replayed. "You will not be able to leave this place."
Elias met his eyes directly.
No blinking.
(This is not… normal human behavior.)
Suddenly, the officer lunged.
Fast.
Far too fast.
Kevin stumbled back, nearly falling.
The camera emitted a piercing, high-frequency shriek—
NYIINGGGGG—
The officer halted abruptly, hands clamping over his ears. His expression distorted, as if his skin did not properly fit his bones.
Elias did not hesitate.
He exhaled once.
"Move!" he ordered sharply.
He grabbed Kevin's arm and pulled.
They ran.
Elias's boots struck the floor in steady rhythm. Kevin tripped once, but Elias steadied him without slowing.
Behind them, the frequency ceased.
Footsteps resumed.
They burst through the shattered glass doors into the parking lot.
"Get in!" Elias flung open the car door nearly in sync with Kevin.
The engine roared to life.
Tires screeched.
The car shot out of the lot.
In the rearview mirror, the officer stood motionless before the entrance.
Watching.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
A woman stepped from the shadows.
Her long red dress brushed the dusty floor. A round hat obscured part of her face. Dark crimson eyes glowed faintly in the night.
Her left hand was metal—its smooth surface gleaming dully under moonlight.
She stopped beside the officer.
"They were very fortunate," she said softly, her voice like a whisper echoing through emptiness.
The officer inclined his head slightly. "Frequency interference… unexpected."
She smiled faintly.
"Not interference," she corrected. "That was The Broadcaster."
She tilted her head.
"But it's fine."
Her gaze drifted toward the road where the car had vanished.
"They don't realize," she continued gently, almost savoring a sweet secret, "that inside the trunk of their car… my host is hiding."
Her metal fingers moved slowly, emitting a soft clicking sound.