The moon was high in the sky. Its light dripped down through the shattered glass ceiling above, pale and distant, as if afraid to come closer. According to the mechanical watch on Aaron's right hand, it was eight p.m.
He stared at it, the metallic ticking somehow louder than his heartbeat.
"It feels… good to know that I have something ancient," he muttered half to himself, "something that still works."
When he turned, the old man was already standing outside of his room, leaning on a bent metal rod that seemed both a weapon and a cane.
"Let's go," the old man said quietly.
Aaron nodded and followed. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the cracked tiles as they went along the corridor, dimly lit by the ghost of the moon.
The old man had a bunch of small pieces of paper with small ink markings hung from his hand.
Aaron frowned. "What are those?"
The old man looked at him. "These? Paper. Ancient kind. We use them to write talismans." He smiled, a wrinkled line stretching across his face. "Think of them like… switches. When I put one on the ghost, the moon's light will do the rest."
Aaron blinked. "You won't… consume it?"
"Hell, no." The old man gave a dry chuckle. "You think I'm crazy? When you consume too many ghosts then you stop being human. The dead crawl inside your mind. Not worth it."
He tapped one of the papers lightly. "This way, I stay sane."
They reached the staircase, the third floor waiting above them like a silent tomb. The air grew thick as they climbed it became colder, heavier, the moonlight barely reaching this far.
As Aaron stepped onto the floor, he realized why the scouts called it a maze.
Broken furniture, fallen mannequins, and shards of glass everywhere; tables on top of tables, chairs melded in the shadows. And the mirrors on the walls, reflecting nothing but darkness. This room seemed to be watching them itself.
They moved quietly down the aisles. Their breath seemed too loud. The air tasted stale, as though it had been trapped for years.
Then Aaron froze.
A silhouette. It was faint, thin, almost transparent flickered between the rows. The figure of a woman.
Long hair, tattered dress, head slightly tilted as if listening to something far away.
He took a step forward. Then another. The old man whispered something behind him, but it sounded muffled, distant.
The world around him started to ripple.
Suddenly, the air changed.
The ruins disappeared.
The dust had vanished.
And he stood in a living Neon City.
People moved all around him. They were alive, warm, and loud. The smell of electrics and perfume, the hum of power lines above, the noise of life filled his head. The third floor wasn't a ruin anymore but a store filled with chatter and lights.
Aaron blinked rapidly. What… is this?
He turned his head. Three young men stood nearby about his age, maybe friends. One of them, a bio-android, waved to him.
"Yo! You coming or what?"
Before Aaron could answer, a young woman passed by, smiling faintly. The same face he had just seen in the shadows.
His chest tightened. No… this isn't real.
The lights flickered. The store went silent.
Then-the blackout.
Everything died. The hum of Neon stopped. The lights, the voices, the warmth, all of it were gone.
Only stillness remained.
Then, a different sound. Not mechanical but that of a Human.
A scream which was faint, broken, swallowed by static.
Aaron turned toward it, but his legs moved on their own. His hands shaking, his sight blurring, his breath a mist, he wanted to stop, but something deeper pulled him forward.
No, not me… I didn't…
The voices around him twisted: laughter, gasps, then silence again.
He felt the fear of the woman. It was pressed into his skull like a nail. His body burned, but his mind was cold, screaming inside a shell which did not obey.
Then blood.
Not real. Not his. But it soaked his thoughts, spreading through paper like ink.
He wanted to look away but couldn't. The city flickered around him like a dying screen replaying the same horror again and again.
A whisper slid into his ear, the same voice he had heard in his dreams.
You saw it… because you were there. Now carry it with you. Aaron fell to his knees. The world shattered. He opened his eyes, finding himself back at the furniture store. Cold air, slanting moonlight through the broken windows, and the old man shouting his name from afar. Aaron's body shook. His hands were pale, shaking. His armor was intact but inside, something cracked. He looked at his reflection in a broken mirror nearby. For one moment, he had seen another person's face-twisted with fear, pain, and guilt. Then it was gone. He exhaled slowly.
His gaze had wandered to the far end of the floor, where the silhouette of the woman still stood staring back at him.