The hallway was normal again.
Too normal.
Lights steady. Machines humming. Distant footsteps returning like nothing had ever happened.
But Kenji knew better.
He stood there a moment longer, listening—not with his ears, but with something else.
That presence.
Still there.
Not close. Not far.
Just… watching.
He exhaled slowly and turned, walking back toward the room.
Each step felt heavier now.
Not from pain—
from awareness.
The world felt different.
Sharper.
Too sharp.
The door creaked open.
Inside, the nurse froze.
"You shouldn't be out of bed."
Her voice was firm. Professional.
But her eyes—
uncertain.
Kenji looked at her.
Really looked this time.
Her heartbeat—fast.
Her breathing—uneven.
Her fingers tightened around the clipboard.
Fear.
He blinked.
And it stopped.
Everything snapped back.
Normal.
"…sorry," he muttered.
He stepped inside and sat down slowly.
The nurse hesitated, then followed.
"Your vitals dropped earlier," she said, checking the monitor. "Flatlined. For minutes."
She glanced at him.
"You shouldn't be conscious."
Kenji gave a faint smile.
"I get that a lot today."
She didn't react. Just wrote something down.
Then, quieter—
"Someone asked about you."
His eyes lifted.
"Who?"
She shook her head.
"They didn't give a name."
A pause.
"But security didn't log them either."
Silence.
That wasn't possible.
Unless—
him.
The man with no reflection.
The nurse stepped back.
"You should rest."
She left.
The door closed.
And just like that—
silence again.
But not empty.
Never empty.
Kenji leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes.
For a second—just a second—he tried to remember.
Anything.
A name. A face. A reason.
Nothing.
Just darkness.
And that same quiet feeling.
The echo.
Then—
a flicker.
Not outside.
Inside.
A memory.
Fragmented. Broken. But real.
Fire.
Not normal fire.
Crimson.
Spreading across something that shouldn't burn.
Voices.
Screaming—
not in pain.
In warning.
"Don't let it wake—"
The memory snapped.
His eyes flew open.
Breath sharp. Cold sweat.
The room felt smaller.
Tighter.
"…what was that?"
No answer.
But the echo pulsed.
Stronger.
Almost—
pleased.
The monitor beside him spiked.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep—
faster.
The lights flickered again.
This time—
only his room.
The window.
He turned toward it.
City skyline beyond. Rain starting again.
But in the glass—
his reflection lagged.
Just a second.
It moved after him.
Not with him.
Kenji froze.
The reflection tilted its head.
He didn't.
"…no."
The word came out low.
Controlled.
The reflection smiled.
He didn't.
The echo surged.
Violent.
Unstable.
The glass cracked.
A thin line spreading outward.
The monitor screamed.
Flatline.
Again.
Outside—
footsteps. Voices. Panic.
Inside—
silence.
Absolute.
Then—
the reflection spoke.
Not aloud.
Inside him.
"You're starting to remember."
The crack spread wider.
The smile didn't fade.
"That's when it gets worse."
The door burst open.
Light flooded the room.
And the reflection—
snapped back to normal.
Kenji gasped as air rushed into his lungs.
The monitor spiked back to life.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
"Stay with us!"
Hands on him. Voices overlapping.
But he wasn't listening.
Couldn't.
Because now—
he understood something clearly.
He didn't come back alone.