Jin stirred awake with a sharp inhale, gasping like he'd been underwater for hours. The sunlight slicing through the curtains felt intrusive—too bright, too hot. He rolled over and blinked groggily at his surroundings. This wasn't his bed. But it was. His house, but wrong. Like the bones were right, but the flesh was unfamiliar.
His head throbbed with the kind of pressure that felt like it was pressing from the inside out. He rubbed at his temple, sat up, and glanced at the digital clock on his bedside table.
11:40 AM.
"Shit," he hissed. "I overslept? That's not right. I set my alarm for six... What the hell?"
His voice was hoarse. It felt like he hadn't used it in days.
He swung his legs out of bed. The cold wood floor sent a jolt through his feet. The silence in the house was unsettling—not comforting like the quiet he was used to. This was void, sterile, like the air held its breath.
Jin lived alone in a modest two-bedroom house nestled in a quiet suburban street. At 24, he owned a startup tech firm in town. A prodigy, graduated at 17, had everything figured out—or so it seemed. Today, though, his thoughts trailed like smoke, shapeless and drifting.
He stumbled to the bathroom. The water steamed as he stepped into the shower, hoping it would shake the weight off his mind. But it didn't.
There's something I'm forgetting.
It echoed in his skull like a whisper just out of earshot.
What is it? This thought... it's clinging. Right there, behind the curtain of memory.
As he brushed his teeth, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—and froze. For one terrible moment, his reflection had no face.
Then it returned.
His own wide-eyed stare looked back at him.
"What the hell... Was that a trick of the light?"
He turned away, shook his head. He was used to the occasional strange dream—stress hallucinations maybe—but this was different. Realer.
"I should call Jimmy," he muttered. "Let him know I'm skipping work."
But the moment he picked up his phone, a more disturbing question surfaced:
Why didn't Jimmy call me first? He always does if I'm even ten minutes late.
Before he could dial, he noticed a message notification.
New Message
From: N/A
Subject: N/A
Jin blinked. Tapped it.
It vanished.
"What the hell...? Wasn't there just—"
He stared at the screen. Empty.
"Okay, maybe I'm just burnt out," he said aloud, trying to ground himself. "A jog. That's what I need. Clear my head."
By 1:15 PM, he was jogging through the neighborhood, earbuds in but with no music playing. The streets were too quiet. Too perfect. People were out walking, watering lawns, waving at each other—and yet...
Something was off.
"Hello there, how are you today?" "Beautiful weather we're having." "Stay blessed!"
Different faces. Same phrases. Over and over. Like a scratched vinyl record on loop.
Jin slowed. Heart racing.
I need to talk to Ark.
That thought appeared out of nowhere, but it felt right. Urgent.
He'll know. If anyone would, it's him.
He changed direction, following the curve of the street that led to Ark's place. He hadn't seen him in weeks. Months? No, that couldn't be right. Hadn't they just spoken?
He turned onto Ark's street. There, in front of the Summers' house, a man was mowing the lawn. He didn't recognize him. Ark's dad had left years ago, hadn't he ; did he even exist before today ?
Jin jogged up, breathing heavy. "Excuse me, sir—am I at the right house?"
The man stopped, turned, and wiped sweat from his forehead. His expression was blank for a second—then settled into something softer.
"Depends. Who are you looking for?"
Jin exhaled in relief. "Ark. Ark Summers."
The man's eyes twitched. His smile faltered.
"Oh my... I think maybe you should come inside."
A cold sliver of unease ran down Jin's spine. His heartbeat spiked, echoing in his ears.
"What is this feeling... Something's wrong. Ark? What's going on?"
Inside, the house was still and dim. Familiar. Yet distant.
Then Rebecca Summers appeared. Older. Tired. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jin.
"Jin?"
The man turned to her. "You know him?"
Rebecca nodded slowly, her lips trembling. "Yes... he was Ark's friend. What took you so long? You still look as young as the day of the funeral. So strange..."
Jin blinked. "Wait, what? Funeral? What are you talking about? Is Ark home?"
Rebecca's face crumpled. She clutched a hand to her chest. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"What do you mean, is Ark home? Jin, don't play games. You know it's been seven years since he died. Why would you act like this?"
Jin took a shaky step back. "No... no, that can't be right. I just saw him. Didn't I? Didn't we talk? He called me. I swear—"
The man looked away. "I wasn't around back then. If I had been... maybe things would've been different. Maybe he'd still be alive. I still blame myself. That's why I moved back. Jin... I don't know how close you were, but today's the anniversary of his death. Please, don't do this."
Jin's mind screamed. His pulse thundered in his skull. Something inside him was splintering.
Whispers. Distant, but clawing their way closer.
This is it. The manifestation of that feeling. The dreadful, gnawing itch in my brain. It's right here.
"I... I'm sorry," Jin murmured, barely able to hold his voice steady. I need to know more. But not like this. Not at the cost of their pain.
He forced a smile, hollow and trembling. "It's just... today's been strange. I thought of Ark. He always knew how to make me laugh when I was down. I guess I just... wanted to see him."
Rebecca smiled weakly through her tears. "He really did care about you."
Jin nodded. But inside, his world was fracturing.
Something is wrong. Something is broken. This isn't grief. This is something else.
As he stepped outside into the afternoon sun, one thought pulsed like a siren in his mind:
"I saw Ark. I remember it. But if no one else does... what does that make me?"