A breath of cold air filled Renji’s lungs as his eyes snapped open.

  He was lying on the hard ground, the scent of damp earth clinging to him. His fingers curled against the rough pavement, and a familiar, eerie silence stretched around him.

  His heart pounded as he pushed himself up.

  No. No, this wasn’t right.

  This was the exact spot where he had first woken up in this town.

  The same cracked pavement. The same suffocating fog curling around his vision.

  He turned sharply, scanning his surroundings, expecting to see the old, decaying house where he and Lily had just been.

  But it wasn’t there.

  The street stretched into an endless haze, empty and unchanged. There was no trace of the house. No lingering scent of dust or old wood. No sign that he had ever stepped foot inside.

  Hadn’t he just been inside? Hadn’t he—

  A cold, sinking realization spread through his mind like ink spilling into water.

  He had escaped, only to wake up here again.

  He stumbled back, his breath uneven. He needed to think. To remember.

  But his thoughts were slipping.

  Like a book with missing pages, his memory flickered between clarity and distortion. He knew something was wrong, yet the details blurred when he tried to grasp them.

  Lily. The Watchers. The photo. The girl.

  The girl—

  His fingers twitched. He remembered the way she had stood there, unmoving, her face hidden beneath tangled hair.

  She had spoken, hadn’t she?

  ..."You don’t belong here."...

  Renji shuddered.

  That voice—his own voice.

  His stomach twisted.

  Was it possible for someone to steal a voice? Or was this something worse?

  And that was when Renji realised something else.

  His own thoughts felt different. Closer, sharper, more real.

  Because now, the story was being told from his perspective.

  I pressed a hand against my chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of my heart. My thoughts were slipping through my fingers like grains of sand, and I couldn't hold onto them long enough to make sense of anything.

  Had she spoken in my voice? Or had I imagined it?

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  No. No, I heard it. I know I heard it.

  A heavy weight settled in my gut, pressing down with unbearable force. My memories weren’t just fading—they were being rewritten.

  Or erased.

  I forced myself to move, scanning my surroundings for any sign of change. If this was some kind of loop, then there had to be a pattern. Something I had missed before.

  And then, I saw them.

  Footprints.

  Trailing along the road.

  I hadn’t made them.

  A chill crawled up my spine. Someone else had walked this path.

  Or something else had.

  I followed them. The air around me felt denser, pressing against my skin. The fog curled unnaturally, shifting as though something unseen was moving just beyond my vision.

  Then I saw it.

  A bookstore.

  It stood among the other buildings, its windows dark and lifeless. Yet, something about it called to me.

  I swallowed hard and reached for the door. My fingers trembled as they wrapped around the handle—it was ice-cold, sending a sharp sting through my palm.

  Everything in me screamed not to go inside.

  But I had to.

  The moment I stepped in, the scent of old books and dust filled my lungs. The wooden floor creaked beneath my weight as I moved deeper into the store. Bookshelves towered over me, lined with volumes whose titles I didn’t recognize.

  And then I saw it.

  A single picture book resting on a wooden table.

  It was already open.

  My breath hitched as I stepped closer.

  A photo stared back at me.

  Me.

  I was standing in front of a house, smiling brightly. But I wasn’t alone.

  Two figures stood beside me, their hands resting on my shoulders.

  But their faces—

  Blank.

  Not blurred. Not obscured.

  Completely blank.

  Like someone had erased them from existence.

  I felt like I had seen something similar before. "Am I having a dejà vu? Or is it just a false memory?"

  I turned the page, my hands clammy. More photos. More versions of the same scene.

  Me. The house. The two faceless figures.

  My throat tightened.

  Who were they?

  My parents?

  I should know that. I should be able to remember.

  Hadn’t I once been able to?

  I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing.

  My parents had disappeared when I was eight. That much, I knew. But their faces—had I truly forgotten them? Or had I known them before coming here?

  Before waking up in this town, I could remember them, right?

  Right?

  A whisper curled against my ear.

  ..."Are you sure?"...

  I flinched.

  The bookstore was gone.

  I was standing in the street again.

  And my hands were empty.

  The picture book—gone.

  A sharp wave of nausea rolled through me. My heart pounded against my ribs.

  Had I imagined it?

  Or had the town taken it?

  And then, beyond the fog—

  A shadow.

  It stood in the distance.

  Watching.

  My pulse went wild. The Watcher.

  It hadn’t moved.

  Yet it was closer.

  I took a shaky step back. The weight of something unseen pressed down on my chest.

  The loop. The missing memories. The faceless figures. The Watchers.

  It was all connected.

  But the answers danced just beyond my reach, slipping away the moment I tried to grasp them.

  The Watcher’s head tilted.

  I turned, and the world twisted.

  The fog curled inward, swallowing my vision whole.

  And when I opened my eyes—

  I was lying on the hard ground.

  A breath of cold air filled my lungs.

  The same cracked pavement. The same eerie silence.

  The same place I had just woken up in.

  I sat up, my chest tightening.

  The loop had reset.

  Again.

  A cold, sinking dread settled deep in my bones.

  How many times had this happened before?

  Had it happened before?

  The memories I thought were real were crumbling. But what if they weren’t just fading?

  What if this town was taking them?

  And worst of all—

  It felt like this wasn’t the first time I had forgotten.

  I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. The town had reset. Or maybe, I had reset.

  I had no proof. No way to be certain. But deep inside, something whispered the truth.

  This place wasn’t just strange. It was broken. And now, so was I.

  The silence pressed down on me. The weight of something unseen. Something waiting. Watching.

  I wasn’t sure what terrified me more—that I didn’t understand what was happening.

  Or that I might have understood once… and simply forgotten.

  And then, in the distance, beyond the fog—

  I heard my name.

  End of Chapter 4