Elias stood frozen in the middle of his bedroom, the dim glow of the streetlamp outside casting long shadows across the walls. His breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as he tried to process what had just happened. The room was empty now, eerily still, but it felt like the masked man’s presence lingered, like a ghost that refused to leave.

He stared at the spot where the man had stood, his mind replaying the encounter in fractured pieces. The demon mask. The golden robes. The bracelet that had felt cold and alive against his skin. And the words.

"You’re invisible to them. But it won’t last long."

His gaze drifted to the briefcase, sitting in its usual spot on the floor, dark and unassuming. He wanted to kick it, throw it out the window, scream at it for turning his life into this nightmare. Instead, he sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp as he fought to steady himself.

The events of the past few hours swirled in his mind—the break-in, the intruders who had beaten him to the ground, the masked man’s cryptic warnings. It was too much. Too much to make sense of, too much to bear.

He groaned softly, the sound muffled against his palms. “What the hell is happening to me?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the faint sounds of the city filtered through the window. A car horn. Distant laughter. The world outside carried on, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in his apartment.

After what felt like an eternity, Elias forced himself to move. His body protested with every motion, his ribs aching, his nose throbbing. He shuffled into the bathroom, avoiding his reflection in the mirror as he fumbled for the first aid kit beneath the sink.

When he finally glanced up, he flinched. His face was a mess—his nose swollen and smeared with dried blood, his cheekbone bruised, his lower lip split. He looked like someone who had barely survived a mugging, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Elias cleaned himself up as best he could, wincing as he dabbed at his wounds with antiseptic. The sting was sharp, but it grounded him, giving him something tangible to focus on. When he finished, he splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it momentarily chasing away the fog in his mind.

He returned to the bedroom, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like a physical force. The briefcase still sat there, and he avoided looking at it as he crawled into bed. The sheets felt coarse against his bruised skin, the pillow too firm, but he didn’t care. He needed rest, even if sleep felt like an impossible luxury.

When Elias woke, the sunlight streaming through the window was sharp and unforgiving, cutting across his face like a blade. His body felt stiff and heavy, every movement sending sharp twinges of pain through his ribs and shoulders.

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For a brief moment, he forgot. For a brief moment, he was just a man waking up in his own apartment, sore from something as mundane as overexertion or a bad fall. But then his eyes landed on the briefcase, and reality came crashing back.

The events of the previous night hit him like a freight train, and his stomach churned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The ache in his ribs flared as he stood, a grim reminder of the intruders who had stormed his apartment, of the masked man who had appeared like a phantom in the night.

Elias staggered into the kitchen, his movements sluggish as he brewed a pot of coffee. The rich aroma filled the air, but it did nothing to ease the unease twisting in his gut. He poured himself a mug and took a tentative sip, the heat searing his tongue. It was bitter and strong, exactly what he needed to keep himself tethered to reality.

He set the mug down and reached for his phone, his hands still trembling slightly. There were no new notifications, no messages from Axiom or the masked man. Just the usual spam emails and a missed call from his sister.

He stared at the phone, his thumb hovering over her name. He wanted to call her back, to hear her voice, to feel some semblance of normalcy. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened.

Instead, he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. Cooking felt like the most ordinary thing he could do, and he clung to the routine like a lifeline. He cracked the eggs into a pan, the sound of them sizzling against the hot surface cutting through the silence of the apartment. For a few moments, he allowed himself to focus on the task—scrambling the eggs, toasting a slice of bread, plating the food with mechanical precision.

But as he sat at the small kitchen table, fork in hand, the weight of the briefcase pressed against him like an invisible force. It was still there, in the corner of his bedroom, silent and unmoving but ever-present.

He barely touched his food.

The day stretched on endlessly. Elias tried to distract himself, but nothing worked. Every time he opened a book, his mind wandered. Every time he turned on the TV, the noise grated on his nerves. Even sketching—his usual escape—felt impossible. The pencil in his hand felt foreign, his ideas muddled and lifeless.

The briefcase remained in the corner, untouched, but it loomed over him like a specter.

By the time evening rolled around, Elias was a bundle of frayed nerves, pacing the apartment like a caged animal. The masked man’s words echoed in his mind: “Two days. Stay alive.”

What did he mean? What would happen in two days? And why had he gone out of his way to help?

Elias had no answers, only questions that piled up until they threatened to crush him. He collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands as the exhaustion of the day caught up with him.

When his phone buzzed, the sound made him jump. He grabbed it off the coffee table, his heart pounding as he saw the notification.

A new email. The sender: Axiom Initiative.

Elias’s stomach twisted as he opened the message, his eyes scanning the words.

From: AX43-Initiative | Observer

To: Elias Veran

Subject: Status Update

Elias Veran,

You are performing adequately. Continue to safeguard the briefcase. Further instructions will follow.

Confidentiality remains absolute.

He let the phone fall onto the couch beside him, his hands trembling. Adequately. The word felt clinical, detached, like they weren’t talking about a person at all but a machine performing a task.

The sun dipped below the horizon, the apartment growing darker as shadows crept across the walls. Elias didn’t bother turning on the lights. He sat there in the dimness, his thoughts circling like vultures.

Two days. Stay alive.

He didn’t know what was coming. But whatever it was, he wasn’t sure he could face it.