I wasn’t supposed to be there.

The rain had started earlier than the forecast predicted. My umbrella was at home. Typical. I ducked into the alley to cut through, hoping to save a few minutes before the downpour swallowed the city. That alley — the one behind the bakery with the broken neon sign — was never on my usual route. And yet, I turned into it like I had done it a thousand times before.

About halfway through, I heard it.

Not footsteps. Not voices. Just a click. Soft, deliberate. Like the sound of a lighter being flicked, or a camera shutter from an old film camera.
I stopped. I don’t know why. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was fear dressing itself up as curiosity. I looked around — there was nothing. No movement, no flicker of shadow. But the air was… heavy. Like the moment just before a power outage. Like the world was holding its breath.

Then I saw it.

Tucked behind a dumpster, a small box. Wooden. Carved with something—no, not something. My name. My full name, etched in a way that looked ancient. Like it had been there for years, waiting. For me.

I shouldn’t have touched it. I knew that. But of course, I did.

(※ The rest of this chapter remains hidden.)