Knock.Knock.
Vale opened the door.
The moment it swung open, pain bloomed in his chest — deep, crushing, familiar. He didn't flinch. He had expected this. Expensive things always found their way back to their owners. Watches especially. They were built to remember who they belonged to.
Two men stood outside.
One was the watch owner — controlled, tense, trying very hard to stay calm.The other was the shopkeeper — eyes burning, jaw clenched, already furious.
The owner spoke first.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice steady. "And how is your name registered as the owner of my watch?"
Vale scratched the back of his head, buying time. The pressure in his chest worsened, but he forced his face to remain neutral.
"I don't know," Vale said quietly. "It… changed automatically."
The shopkeeper snapped.
"You son of a—"
"No," the owner cut in sharply. "Calm down. Sit."
They entered the room.
Vale stayed standing.
"I swear," Vale said, his voice tightening, "I don't know how it happened."
The shopkeeper scanned the room. His eyes stopped on the gold resting near the wall. Then the cash.
"And that?" he demanded, pointing. "Is that also in your name?"
Vale swallowed. "I sold the gold. At a jewellery store."
The shopkeeper laughed — short, sharp, humorless.
"You think we're idiots?"
He stormed outside, yanked open his car, and returned holding a gift box and a folded receipt. He slammed the box onto the table and unfolded the paper.
"This," he said, slapping it flat, "is the bill. Now show us your trick."
The watch owner leaned back, arms crossed, watching silently.
Vale's hands began to shake.
"I… I don't—"
"Do it," the shopkeeper said coldly. "Or we call the police. I've got cameras. I came here to find out how you're scamming half the watch industry."
The room fell silent.
Vale stepped forward.
Each step echoed.Each step made the pain worse.
He picked up the box.
The moment his fingers touched it, the familiar surge hit him — heat, pressure, nausea. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. A thin, bloody smile tugged at his lips.
Something shifted.
The paper on the table fluttered.
The shopkeeper froze.The owner leaned forward.
The name on the receipt changed.
Neither of them spoke.
They stared at the bill as if it might explain itself.
Outside, voices began to rise. Neighbors had gathered, whispering, pointing.
"Something's wrong in there.""That's the thief, right?""I heard he steals watches."
Vale's heart skipped.
The shopkeeper stepped back slowly, his face pale.
"This… isn't edited," he whispered. "There's no trace. No forgery."
The owner said nothing. He simply looked at Vale — not with anger anymore, but fear.
They left without another word.
People stared at Vale as they passed him. Like he wasn't human.
That evening, the crowd came.
Knock.Knock.
Vale opened the door to shouting.
"We live here as families!" someone yelled."We can't have a thief among us!"
Vale's patience snapped.
"Who said I'm a thief?" he shouted back. "Then why did they leave?"
"Who knows when they'll come back with police?" another voice shouted.
A stone hit the wall.Another shattered the window.
The noise swelled.
A man stepped forward, raising his hands.
"Enough," he said. "Come inside."
The door closed.
"You need to leave," the man said flatly. "We have children here. We can't risk them learning this life."
Vale didn't argue.
He went to his room and lay down.
Knock.Knock.
Vale opened the door again.
An old man stood there, wearing a jacket and dark glasses.
"Alfred," the man said, stepping inside without waiting. He poured himself a drink and sat.
"Who are you?" Vale asked.
Alfred smiled faintly.
"Someone who understands what's happening to you."
Vale scoffed. "I'm safe. They don't have proof."
Alfred stood, his voice calm.
"Stay here and you'll be a thief forever — even if the court clears you. Leave now, and you get paid."
Vale hesitated.
He packed a bag. Took cash. Left the watch behind.
They walked into the cold night.
To be continued