I didn't sleep.
Even after the Collector disappeared, my body refused to relax. Every small sound in the house made me look toward the door again, expecting it to open.
Morning arrived slowly, like the world was unsure whether I deserved another day.
Sunlight entered my room, warm and ordinary. Birds chirped outside. Somewhere nearby, someone started a scooter. Normal life continued without hesitation.
But something had changed.
I could feel it.
A faint warmth rested inside my chest, steady and quiet. Not painful. Not powerful. Just… present.
"The Anchor," I said softly.
The shadow stirred near the wall.
"Yes."
Its voice sounded weaker than before.
"You look tired," I said without thinking.
A small pause followed.
"I do not experience fatigue," it replied. Then, after a moment, "But maintaining form requires energy. Your survival consumed much of it."
"So you saved me?"
"No," it said calmly. "You saved yourself. I merely delayed the inevitable."
That sounded honest enough to believe.
I stood up slowly. My legs still felt heavy, like my body hadn't fully accepted me yet.
"If someone remembers me," I said, "then why don't I remember them?"
The shadow shifted slightly.
"Because erasure does not occur equally. The world removes you from others first. Your own memories fade last."
That meant time was running out.
A sudden fear hit me.
"What happens when my memories disappear?"
The answer came immediately.
"You will stop asking questions."
That was worse than dying.
I grabbed my phone again, hoping something had changed overnight.
Still empty.
No name.
No history.
But this time, something new appeared on the screen.
A single notification.
No app icon. No sender.
Just text.
1 MEMORY REMAINS UNCLAIMED
My breath caught.
"Did you do this?" I asked the shadow.
"No."
The notification pulsed faintly.
My hand hesitated before tapping it.
The screen turned black.
Then an image slowly formed.
A rooftop.
Evening sky painted orange and purple.
Two silhouettes sitting side by side.
One of them was me.
I knew without seeing the face.
The other person was blurred, like the world refused to show them clearly.
Laughter echoed faintly through the speaker.
My laughter.
And another voice.
Soft. familiar.
"You always look like you're about to disappear," the voice said.
My chest tightened painfully.
"I'm serious," the voice continued. "If everyone forgets you someday, I'll still remember. So don't worry."
The recording ended.
The phone screen returned to normal.
My hands trembled.
"I know that voice," I whispered.
But the name wouldn't come.
Every time I tried to remember, my head hurt.
The shadow spoke carefully.
"That memory is resisting deletion."
"Why?"
"Because it carries emotional weight. Promises create strong anchors."
I sat down slowly.
Someone had promised to remember me.
And somehow… that promise was still protecting me.
"Can Collectors take this memory too?" I asked.
"Yes."
The warmth in my chest flickered slightly, as if reacting to the words.
"When the Anchor breaks," the shadow continued, "you will become visible to them again."
I clenched my fists.
"Then I need to find this person."
Silence filled the room.
"That will be difficult," the shadow said.
"Why?"
"Because reality is already correcting the connection. The closer you get to the truth, the more resistance you will face."
Almost on cue, a sharp headache struck me.
Images flashed briefly.
A school rooftop.
Wind.
A hand reaching toward me.
Then nothing.
The memory vanished again.
I breathed heavily, trying to hold onto the feeling instead of the details.
"That's not fair," I muttered.
"Existence is not designed to be fair," the shadow replied.
Outside, I heard my mother's voice returning home. Keys jingled. The door opened.
Footsteps passed my room without stopping.
No hesitation.
No awareness.
I stood there quietly.
Yesterday that had broken me.
Today it only confirmed one thing.
If I wanted to exist again, I couldn't wait for the world to accept me.
I had to force my place back into it.
I grabbed my jacket.
"I'm going out," I said.
"To search?" the shadow asked.
"Yes."
A small pause followed.
"Then you should know," it added quietly, "the Collectors are not the only beings drawn to Anchors."
I stopped at the door.
"What else is out there?"
The shadow's shape trembled slightly.
"Things that feed on memories instead of erasing them."
A chill ran down my spine.
I opened the door anyway.
Because somewhere in this city, someone still remembered my name.
And that person was the only proof that I had ever truly existed.