The silence after the shadow vanished felt heavier than the dark itself.
Ren stood in the middle of the living room, his breath uneven, the air thick with something invisible but alive. Then the pain began... small at first, like the sting of a match pressed against skin. It pulsed at the base of his neck.
He touched the birthmark.
A hiss escaped him.
The ache deepened, growing sharper until it felt as though the mark were carving its way outward, trying to breathe through him. He stumbled toward the mirror above the mantel, desperate to see.
The reflection made his heart stop.
The mark that had always been a muted shade of brown now glowed faintly beneath the skin, colors blooming where no light should reach. Veins of purple and red intertwined in a strange, moving pattern, the lines shifting as if the mark were alive, as if it were remembering something he couldn't.
For a heartbeat he couldn't move.
The sight mesmerized him and terrified him at once.
"Stop…" The word broke from his throat, hoarse. "Please stop."
But the light only pulsed harder, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He turned away, pressing a trembling hand against his neck, feeling heat spread to his collarbone. Fear flooded him, raw and electric. He needed to find that man... the one who had brought him here. Maybe he knew what was happening. Maybe he had answers.
Ren ran toward the staircase. The air felt heavier with every step, as if the house itself resisted his movement. His knees nearly gave out halfway up, but he pushed forward, clutching the banister, his breath ragged.
At the landing, something caught his foot. His body pitched forward, and he fell, his shoulder striking the floor with a dull crack. Pain blurred his vision.
When he looked back, his eyes widened in disbelief.
The book.
The same one he had seen earlier in the library... the one with the delicate handwriting inside, Property of L. It lay across the floorboards, its cover dark and worn, as if it had been waiting there all along.
Ren crawled toward it. His fingers hovered above the surface.
The leather was warm. Not from sunlight or touch, but as though the book had its own pulse. The gold lettering shimmered faintly, almost the same color as the mark on his neck.
He turned it over, searching for a clasp, and found a tiny indentation on the edge of the cover...a keyhole.
He froze.
A chill slid down his spine. Why would a book need a key?
His thoughts scattered when the silence was broken by a sound from upstairs.
A phone ringing.
The tone was unmistakable... his tone. His ringtone.
Ren's heart lurched.
His phone had been stolen. He had watched those thugs rip it from his hand, had seen the cracked screen vanish into the night. Yet the sound now echoed clearly through the hall above.
"Did i not lost my phone... is it the same person who called yesterday night?"
He swallowed hard, gripping the book, and began to climb. Each step creaked under his weight, the sound of the ringtone pulling him upward like a thread.
The corridor at the top was dim, washed in pale light seeping from the edges of the curtains. His phone sat on a small table near the bed, vibrating softly, the caller ID flashing: Unknown Number.
His hand shook as he picked it up.
"Hello?" His voice was small, almost childlike.
Static filled the line, faint and irregular, like breathing through a storm. Then a voice...low, familiar, calm.
"Liu Ren. How are you doing?"
The sound of his name... his real name... made the world tilt.
He hadn't told this man who he was. The stranger had only called him Ren when they first met.
His throat tightened. "How… how do you know my name?"
A quiet chuckle came through the receiver, smooth and detached.
"Take me from here," Ren said suddenly, the words rushing out. "Please. I don't want to live here. I'll do any job you ask, just not here."
The man's tone didn't change. "Where would you go?"
Ren stopped breathing.
"You have no home," the voice continued. "No family. No friends. The world outside will forget you by tomorrow. This place, however…" The pause that followed was long enough to feel endless. "…is meant for you."
Ren's grip on the phone trembled. "What are you talking about?"
"You're safe here," the man said. "He's with you."
The words dropped into the silence like stones into deep water.
Ren's chest tightened. His mouth felt dry. "Who?" he asked. "Who's with me?"
The line crackled.
"Tell me who!" he shouted, voice breaking.
But the only answer was the click of the call ending.
Ren stared at the phone, disbelief hollowing him out. The screen faded to black, and no matter how many times he pressed redial, the message was the same: The number you are trying to reach does not exist.
He sank onto the floor, the phone slipping from his hand. The wooden planks were cold against his legs. Tears blurred his vision, falling quietly, without sobs.
"What's happening to me…"
He leaned forward, forehead resting on his knees, his body shaking with small, quiet tremors. The silence in the room returned, but it felt different now... closer, breathing with him.
Then came the pain again.
A sharp, burning pulse beneath the skin of his neck. The light flared even through the fabric of his shirt, seeping through the weave in hues of red and violet. He gasped, clutching at it, the world narrowing to a single point of heat.
"Please…" His whisper was hoarse, nearly lost in the air.
The agony climbed higher, spreading toward his jaw, and then suddenly... coolness.
A soft breath of air brushed his skin, cold and tender, as if invisible fingers hovered just above him. The pain began to ease, replaced by a strange calm.
Ren froze, too afraid to turn around.
The breeze circled him, faint but deliberate, touching the edges of his hair, tracing the curve of his neck. The sensation wasn't wind... it carried intention, almost comfort.
He closed his eyes. For a second, he thought he heard a whisper buried inside that breath, not a voice but a feeling, something that told him he wasn't alone.
The glow under his skin dimmed. His body slackened with exhaustion.
Ren lifted his head slowly. The room looked unchanged... the same dust, the same faint morning light... but the air seemed to hum softly now, as if something unseen had stirred awake.
He reached for the book that lay beside him on the floor. Its surface had cooled, but when he touched the keyhole, he felt a faint thrum echoing from inside, a heartbeat answering his own.
He set it on the table, staring at it for a long moment. His reflection in the glossy cover looked strange to him... paler, older somehow, the eyes darker than he remembered.
Ren pressed his hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. The quiet stretched again, long and patient. Somewhere deeper in the house, a door clicked shut by itself.
He flinched, staring down the hallway, waiting.
Nothing moved.
But he could feel it. The same presence that had filled the air before now lingered near the stairs, silent but aware of him.
Ren whispered into the empty space, "Are you the one he meant?"
The only answer was the faintest stir of cold air, brushing his cheek like the beginning of a reply.
END OF THE CHAPTER.