The day was bright and sunny, the kind that made the city hum with life. A young boy stood nervously outside a fancy restaurant, his face flushed red as he shifted from foot to foot. The street around him was a blur of luxury cars and floating drones, busy delivering packages or capturing scenic videos for their owners. He checked his phone—his savings weren’t much, but they might cover this if he was careful. He pocketed the device, trying to distract himself by watching the vibrant LED displays on nearby skyscrapers, each screen a riot of color and activity.

For a brief moment, the city’s energy eased his anxiety. But just as he began to relax, one of the screens flashed a massive, glowing heart. His face turned crimson again, and he quickly looked away, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. Just then, a sleek luxury car pulled up to the curb. The driver stepped out, opening the back door with a practiced motion. The young boy’s breath caught in his throat as a girl emerged, her presence commanding the attention of everyone around.

She was stunning—graceful and elegant, with an air of maturity that seemed beyond her years. The boy found himself unable to look away, though he desperately wanted to. She’s going to think I’m some kind of creep, he panicked internally, but he was rooted to the spot. Each step she took seemed to radiate a quiet confidence, and by the time she reached him, his heart was pounding in his chest.

"Did I keep you waiting long?" she asked, her voice soft and reassuring, as though she had noticed his nervousness.

He snapped back to reality, shaking his head quickly. "No, I just got here," he lied, his voice wavering slightly.

He gestured toward the entrance of the restaurant, hoping to regain some composure. It was obvious that this was unfamiliar territory for him—he had never done anything like this before. As they approached the hostess, the girl mentioned that she had made a reservation on the rooftop. The boy’s eyes widened in shock. The rooftop? That was way out of his budget, even with what little savings he had.

Panic began to rise within him. He felt a strong urge to flee, to get out before things became too awkward, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. The girl seemed to sense his discomfort and quickly reassured him with a smile that melted some of his anxiety. "Don’t worry about the bill. I’ve got it covered."

Did she not notice my other insecurities, or was this the only one she picked up on? he wondered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

"But I’m the one who invited you. It wouldn’t be fair to let you pay," he protested weakly, knowing deep down that he didn’t have the money to cover it.

She giggled softly, her laughter light and melodic. "But I’m the one who made you invite me, didn’t I? Doesn’t that mean I kind of invited you?"

He wanted to argue further, but the last thing he wanted was to ruin the mood on their first date, so he let it go. As they reached the rooftop, he was struck by how empty it was. The entire space was theirs, save for a single table set in the center of the wooden deck. Aquariums were embedded in the pathways, filled with colorful fish that swam peacefully. A gentle breeze swept across the rooftop, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline, unobstructed by the towering buildings below.

Two waiters appeared as if on cue, pulling out chairs for them to sit. The boy hesitated, unused to such formality, but followed their lead without question. It seemed too trivial to ask about.

As they settled in, the boy slowly began to talk, his nerves gradually loosening as the conversation flowed. Despite his initial discomfort, he found himself getting lost in the moment, the girl’s laughter and attentive eyes putting him at ease. Yet, as he spoke, there was a moment when he realized he couldn’t hear her responses. Her lips moved, but no sound reached him. He tried to focus, to catch her words, but the world around him started to dissolve into darkness. The vibrant cityscape faded, colors bleeding into a deep black.

Panic gripped him as he opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was gone. Suddenly, bullet holes riddled the girl’s body, and blood began to spurt from the wounds, drenching the ground beneath her. The boy’s blood ran cold as her body convulsed, her life slipping away before his eyes.

A voice—twisted and sinister—cut through the silence, echoing in his mind. "You’re next."

It wasn’t her voice. It was something far more terrifying, distorting her beautiful face into a grotesque mask of death. Her body began to fall into the encroaching darkness, and he was helpless to stop it, paralyzed by fear.

Hayato woke up with a start, drenched in sweat, his body trembling uncontrollably. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to shake off the lingering dread of the nightmare. The room around him was pitch-black, the only light coming from the soft glow of his clock: 4:33 a.m.

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How many days has it been since I last slept? he wondered, rubbing his tired eyes. The exhaustion was clearly taking its toll on him—dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his clothes hung loosely on his now thinner frame. His eyes darted nervously around the room, still haunted by the nightmare’s vivid images. A sudden noise by the window made him freeze, every muscle in his body tensing. But when he turned, he saw only a few birds fluttering outside, their wings rustling against the glass.

This place isn’t safe, he thought, a wave of anxiety washing over him.

Grabbing his phone, Hayato sent a message to one of his contacts. As he scrolled through their past conversation, guilt gnawed at him. The chat history was full of messages from the other person, most of them left unanswered. His friend had frequently checked in, asking how he was or inviting him out, but Hayato had ignored most of them.

He’s not going to respond. I’ve ignored him for so long, Hayato thought, feeling a pang of regret. Wrapping himself in his blanket, he lay back down, despite the lingering anxiety. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep again.

When he awoke later, it was around 10 a.m., and his phone was still in his hand. To his surprise, there was a response from his friend. Groggy and disoriented, Hayato began typing a reply: I need help.

His friend’s response was almost immediate: I’ll help in any way I can.

Hayato felt a small sense of relief. He typed out the details of what was troubling him, and his friend agreed without hesitation: Alright, come over. It’ll be fine.

Hayato spent the next hour packing a bag. He left all his electronics and games behind, packing only the essentials into his suitcase. With a deep breath, he left his apartment, constantly scanning his surroundings for anything suspicious as he walked. He took a train to the outskirts of the city and then walked a considerable distance until he reached a farm, its old-fashioned charm a stark contrast to the bustling metropolis he had left behind.

Hiroshi, his friend, was waiting for him at the entrance, a warm smile on his face. "Welcome."

"Thanks," Hayato replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground. "Your grandparents didn’t mind?"

"Don’t worry," Hiroshi reassured him, "I already talked to them."

They entered the farmhouse together, Hayato clutching his bags tightly. Hiroshi grabbed a few to help carry, maintaining his cheerful demeanor. Inside, they were greeted by Hiroshi’s grandfather, Kazuo, a friendly man with a hearty laugh.

"It feels like it was just yesterday when you last visited," Kazuo said with a chuckle. "Welcome back. This house is yours too. My grandson told me about the fire. Stay as long as you need."

Fire? Hayato thought, confused but choosing not to question it.

He carried his bags to a simple, clean room with a single window. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a bed and a small dresser. As Hayato started unpacking, there was a gentle knock on the door. Hiroshi’s grandmother, Keiko, peeked in, her expression kind.

"When you’re done, come down and join us for a meal," she said warmly.

Hayato wasn’t used to such hospitality, and the situation made him uncomfortable. But he didn’t want to be rude, so he nodded and resolved to follow the house rules. As he finished unpacking, he took a moment to familiarize himself with the farmhouse. It hadn’t changed much since his last visit as a child—warm and welcoming, with a sense of timelessness.

As he approached the dining room, he overheard a conversation from the hallway.

"Why do we have to wait for him? I’m starving!" A girl’s voice—Hiroshi’s sister, Emiko—complained loudly.

"It won’t hurt to wait a little longer," Keiko replied in her usual gentle tone. "I’m sure he’s on his way down."

"Shut up! I don’t want to wait!" Emiko snapped, her voice laced with irritation.

Hayato froze in the hallway, unsure of what to do. If I show up now, it’ll only make things worse. Better wait until they finish arguing, he thought, feeling more like an intruder than a guest.

"Don’t speak to your grandmother like that," Kazuo reprimanded sternly. "He’s our guest and your brother’s friend. He’ll be staying here for a while, so we should offer him our best hospitality."

Emiko huffed, turning away in frustration, while Hiroshi looked caught between embarrassment and frustration. After a few tense moments, Hayato waited another fifteen seconds before stepping into the dining room, trying to appear casual.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said awkwardly, greeted by warm smiles from everyone except Emiko, who continued to sulk. Now that I think about it, I never got along with her either, Hayato mused, feeling a twinge of regret.

Kazuo was the first to break the ice, offering a jovial greeting and setting the tone for a more relaxed meal. Hayato followed their lead, taking a seat at the table. Throughout dinner, Emiko avoided looking at him, occasionally making a face that suggested she’d rather be anywhere else. After the meal, Hayato offered to wash the dishes, hoping to pull his weight and avoid being a burden. If I help out, maybe they’ll let me stay longer, he reasoned.

But Keiko quickly waved off his offer. "Don’t worry about it. You’re a guest."

Feeling out of place, Hayato returned to his room, sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a knock on the door, and Hiroshi stepped in.

"Sorry about my sister. She’s not used to having guests," Hiroshi apologized.

"It’s not just that. She seemed like she wasn’t used to me at all," Hayato replied, managing a weak smile.

Hiroshi chuckled awkwardly. "I can’t deny that."

"Are you sure this is going to work out?" Hayato asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

"Don’t worry," Hiroshi assured him. "I told my grandparents that you’d be staying here for a while because of the fire. They understand, and I’m sure they won’t have any issues with it."

"Just gotta avoid your sister… seems like a fair trade," Hayato muttered, half-joking.

"I’m sorry about that," Hiroshi said, his tone apologetic but light.

Hiroshi moved to leave the room, but Hayato stopped him with a quiet, "Thank you."

The gratitude was genuine, though tinged with anxiety. Hiroshi noticed and simply nodded. "You’re welcome."

Hayato lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The farmhouse felt safe—at least for now. But as he closed his eyes, the nightmare from before flashed in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.