Shawn sat in the kitchen of his apartment.
In front of him on the table were two hamburgers.
Big.
Juicy.
With melted cheese, fresh lettuce, and special sauce spilling over the sides of the buns.
They were his favorites.
He'd ordered them for delivery about twenty minutes ago, and during those twenty minutes, Shawn had experienced what could only be described as the worst waiting period of his life.
Not because of the food itself.
But because of the delivery guy.
When the notification [Your order is arriving] popped up on his phone, Shawn felt his whole body tense up.
'What if he recognizes me?' he'd thought, squinting at the screen.
It was a ridiculous possibility.
He knew that.
That girl's post had gone viral, sure. But "viral" on the internet didn't mean every human being on the planet had seen it. Most people didn't even use that social network.
And of the ones who did, half didn't even read the full threads. They saw the headline, liked it, and scrolled on.
Shawn knew because he did exactly the same thing.
But still.
Still, there was a small but loud part of him screaming that the delivery guy was going to look him in the face, eyes widening in surprise, pull out his phone, and snap a photo to post with the caption:
[Look who I just delivered food to! #ExposingTrolls]
But that didn't happen.
The delivery guy handed him the bag, said "enjoy your meal" with a bored face, and left.
Not a weird look.
Not a second of hesitation.
Nothing.
'It was obvious nothing was going to happen…' Shawn thought now, sitting in front of his hamburgers. 'The photo they're sharing is from three years ago. And the address they leaked is my old apartment.'
That should have calmed him down.
It should have.
But it didn't.
Because the question that kept spinning in his head was a different one.
'What's going to happen when they find out where I live now?'
Shawn picked up the hamburger with both hands.
He took a bite.
Chewed.
It tasted like nothing.
Well, okay, it tasted like something. It tasted like bread, meat, cheese. The ingredients were there. But the flavor didn't register.
It was as if his brain was too busy processing catastrophic scenarios to allocate any resources to something as trivial as enjoying food.
Shawn took another bite.
Nothing.
Another one.
Nothing.
'These are my favorite hamburgers,' he thought, staring at the bun with a blank expression. 'I'm supposed to be enjoying this.'
But he couldn't.
Every time he tried to focus on the taste, his mind dragged him right back to the same place.
The threads.
The comments.
The screenshots.
The people organizing to find his current address.
'If someone in the building recognizes me…' Shawn thought, setting the hamburger back on the table.
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't want to finish it.
Shawn let out a long sigh and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.
The hamburgers were getting cold.
And he didn't care.
Ding!
A notification sounded on his phone.
Shawn looked down and checked the screen.
[Your order has arrived. The delivery person is waiting at the building entrance.]
Shawn stared at the message for a few seconds.
The medicine.
He'd ordered it earlier. Pills for the headache, something for his stomach, and some vitamins that would probably do nothing but gave him the illusion he was taking care of his health.
Shawn opened the app chat and typed quickly.
[Coming down now. Give me a minute.]
He sent the message, stood up from the chair, and walked toward the apartment door.
But before leaving, he stopped.
He looked at his phone again.
There was another notification.
A message from Sarah.
[Sarah - Now]: Answer your damn phone, Shawn.
Shawn stared at the message for exactly two seconds.
Then he locked the screen and left the apartment.
…
The hallway was empty.
Shawn walked to the elevator and pressed the button.
Stairs weren't an option.
His apartment was on the twelfth floor.
Walking down twelve flights with the body he currently had would basically be gravity-assisted suicide.
The elevator doors opened.
There were people inside.
A group of young people. Four or five. All around his age, maybe a bit younger. They wore casual clothes, backpacks, and that loud energy people have right after leaving somewhere fun.
Shawn stepped aside to let them out.
The group started exiting the elevator, talking among themselves, laughing about something one of them had said.
And then one of them looked at him.
A girl with long hair.
Her eyes landed on Shawn for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then she turned to her friend and whispered something while subtly nodding her chin toward him.
Shawn's heart stopped.
'She recognized me,' was the first thing he thought.
His body reacted before his brain could catch up.
Shawn rushed into the elevator, pressed the ground-floor button, and stared straight ahead with the most neutral expression he could fake in that moment.
The doors closed.
The elevator began to descend.
Shawn exhaled the breath he'd been holding.
'Calm down,' he thought, clenching his fists inside his hoodie pockets. 'It was probably nothing. Probably talking about something else. Probably wasn't even pointing at me…'
But his heart didn't believe him.
His heart was still pounding like he'd just run a marathon.
'I'm being paranoid,' Shawn thought, closing his eyes. 'This is ridiculous. I'm paranoid and acting like an idiot.'
The elevator reached the ground floor.
The doors opened.
Shawn stepped out and walked toward the building entrance, trying to look as normal as possible.
The delivery guy was there.
A young guy, about his age, wearing a worn blue cap and a thermal backpack slung over one shoulder. He had his phone in his hand and was staring at the screen with a bored expression.
"You Shawn?" the delivery guy asked without looking up.
"Yeah," Shawn replied, holding out his hand.
The delivery guy handed him a white plastic bag.
Shawn took it and quickly checked the contents. The medicine boxes were there. Everything seemed in order.
"Cool, thanks," Shawn said, taking half a step back.
But the delivery guy raised a hand.
"Hey, hold up a second."
Shawn froze.
'Shit,' he thought, panic surging back. 'Here it comes. He's going to say he recognized me. He's going to pull out his phone. He's going to take my picture. It's over.'
The delivery guy scratched the back of his neck, looking awkward.
"Look, I know this is weird," he said, lowering his voice a bit. "But… would you mind giving me a tip? It's just that my mom's sick and the meds are super expensive lately."
Shawn blinked.
He stayed silent.
Staring at the delivery guy.
The delivery guy took the silence as discomfort and quickly raised his hands.
"Sorry if that's awkward," he said, stepping back. "You don't have to if you don't want to. It's just… you know how things are."
Shawn didn't answer right away.
He kept staring.
In silence.
Because his brain was processing something.
This wasn't the first time a delivery guy had hit him with a sad story for a tip.
In fact, it was the fourth time this month.
The first time it was a guy whose son was in the hospital.
The second was a girl who said she hadn't eaten in two days.
The third was another guy who said his bike got stolen and he needed money for a new one.
And now this one.
The sick mom.
'The sick mom,' Shawn thought, clenching his teeth inwardly. 'Classic.'
He'd seen the threads on that same social network where they were canceling him. Threads where dozens of users confirmed that a lot of delivery drivers in the area used made-up stories to squeeze extra tips. That the money didn't go to medicine or food, but to online casinos, sports betting, or worse.
Screenshots.
Testimonies.
Even videos of drivers laughing among themselves after scoring tips with fake stories.
And this guy in front of him had recited one of those generic scripts with laughable precision.
The sick mom.
The expensive meds.
The lowered voice to generate pity.
The "you don't have to if you don't want to" to not seem aggressive.
Perfect script.
Part of Shawn felt genuine anger.
Real anger.
Because this guy was standing right in front of him, lying to his face with total shamelessness. Using a shitty story that had probably worked on twenty people before him.
'You really think I'm going to swallow that?' Shawn thought, staring him down.
But another part of him…
Another part remembered something.
Something he didn't want to remember.
God's voice.
Not literally. He wasn't hearing golden letters in his head. But he remembered the message he'd read in the Bible not long ago.
"Words that heal are worth more than words that hurt."
Shawn clenched his jaw.
'Damn it,' he thought.
The delivery guy was still standing there, awkward, waiting for an answer.
Shawn let out a long sigh.
A sigh that came from the deepest part of his chest.
Then he unlocked his phone with a sour face.
"What's your bank account number…?" he asked in a tone that made it very clear he wasn't happy about the situation.
The delivery guy's eyes widened in surprise.
"For real?" he said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
"I'm asking for the number," Shawn repeated, not looking at him. "Don't make me regret this."
"Yes, yes, of course!" the delivery guy said, quickly pulling out his phone. "It's…"
Shawn listened to the number, entered it into his banking app, and transferred five dollars.
Five dollars that hurt his soul.
"Done," Shawn said, putting his phone away.
"Thanks a lot, bro!" the delivery guy said with a huge smile. "Seriously, thank you so much! God bless you!"
Shawn glanced at him sideways.
'Yeah,' he thought bitterly. 'God's already blessed me plenty, thanks.'
◇◆◇
Queen Iris Ashford opened her eyes slowly.
The first thing she felt was calm.
A deep calm she hadn't felt in a very long time.
Her body was relaxed. Her muscles didn't ache. Her head was clear.
Even the dim light filtering through the room's curtains didn't bother her in the slightest.
Iris stretched in bed, arms above her head, arching her back, feeling every joint in her body crack softly.
She had slept well.
Incredibly well.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept like that.
Months?
Years?
Iris yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, and stayed lying down a few seconds longer, savoring the sensation.
But then she remembered.
The healer.
The girl who had cured her.
The girl she had lain with to give her warmth.
Iris turned to the other side of the bed.
Empty.
The sheets were rumpled, but no one was there.
Iris frowned.
She sat up in bed and looked around the room.
"Sheila?" she called softly.
Silence.
Iris got out of bed and walked to the other side of the room.
She checked behind the curtains.
Nothing.
She crouched and looked under the bed.
Nothing.
She opened the wardrobe.
Nothing.
Iris felt the sleep vanish from her in an instant.
She walked quickly to the window and looked out.
From that height she could see the castle gardens, the outer walls, and the dozens of guards patrolling the perimeter. She searched for any trace. Any sign. A rope hanging from the window. Marks on the wall. Footprints in the garden below.
Anything that indicated someone had entered or left that way, but…
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Iris took a long breath.
She walked to the room's door and opened it.
The two guards posted outside snapped to attention immediately.
"Your Majesty," they said in unison, bowing.
Iris looked at them with a serious expression.
"The healer who was with me in the room…" she said in a controlled voice. "Did she leave at any point during the night?"
The guards glanced at each other, confused.
One of them, the one on the right, spoke first.
"The young woman with short hair, Your Majesty?" he asked.
"Yes," Iris replied.
The guard shook his head.
"No one has left that room since you entered last night, Your Majesty," he said confidently. "We've been here all night without moving."
The other guard nodded.
"Not a single person has opened that door until now," he confirmed.
Iris stared at them for several seconds.
"Is the girl not inside?" the first guard asked, frowning with genuine confusion.
Iris clenched her fist.
"Yes," she replied dryly. "Yes, she is."
And she closed the door.
The guard stared at the closed door with a bewildered expression. He turned to his companion, who had the same confused look.
Neither said a word.
…
Iris stood with her back against the door.
She closed her eyes.
She thought.
If the girl hadn't left through the door, and the guards hadn't seen anyone enter or leave…
Iris walked back to the window.
She opened it fully and looked out again, this time more carefully.
They were on one of the highest floors of the east wing of the castle. Below, at a distance that would kill any normal human who tried to jump, was a stone courtyard surrounded by armed guards.
Guards personally selected by her.
Guards who had sworn absolute loyalty to the crown.
'If anyone had tried to climb this wall, they would have been seen,' Iris thought, scanning every inch of the outer facade. 'And if anyone had tried to descend from here, they'd be dead.'
No ropes.
No marks.
Nothing.
Iris closed the window and sat on the edge of the bed.
'So it wasn't a kidnapping,' she thought, ruling out the first possibility.
But if it wasn't a kidnapping…
'Did she escape on her own?' Iris thought, frowning.
Impossible.
The door was guarded. The window was inaccessible. And the girl had been in such a fragile state she could barely maintain her body temperature.
There was no way someone in those conditions could escape a guarded room on the highest floor of a castle without leaving a single trace.
Unless…
'Unless someone took her,' Iris thought, feeling unease begin to grow.
Someone with access.
Someone with influence.
Someone capable of pulling strings while she slept.
Iris remembered the poison.
The poison she had been consuming for years without knowing.
The poison someone inside her own castle had been administering.
'If that person was capable of poisoning me for years without me noticing…' Iris thought, clenching the sheets with her fingers. 'Would they be capable of infiltrating my royal guards?'
The answer was obvious.
Yes.
Yes, they would.
And if that person had found out about the existence of the healer…
'It makes sense,' Iris thought, feeling rage begin to mix with worry. 'That girl cured me. If the person behind the poison found out, the first thing they'd do is eliminate her.'
Iris closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath.
And then she examined her own body.
Not superficially.
Deeply.
She focused all her attention inward, searching for any anomaly. Any trace of strange magic. Any sign that something had changed while she slept.
'If that girl had some kind of special power,' Iris thought, 'maybe she merged with me somehow. Maybe her energy is inside me.'
Iris searched.
Carefully.
Patiently.
She checked every corner of her body. Every muscle. Every organ. Every vein.
Nothing.
There was nothing strange.
No foreign presence.
No trace of fusion, absorption, nothing.
Her body was just her body.
Healed.
Restored.
But only hers.
Iris opened her eyes.
She rose slowly from the bed and walked to the side where the girl had slept.
She leaned down.
And smelled the sheets.
The scent was there.
Barely.
A soft, sweet smell. The same one she'd felt last night when she held her to give her warmth.
But it was faint.
Too faint.
As if the girl had been there hours ago, not minutes.
Iris ran her hand over the fabric.
It was cold.
'It's as if she simply vanished,' Iris thought, frowning.
Not kidnapped.
Not escaped.
Vanished.
As if that girl had simply ceased to exist in this world.