Haruto didn't sleep that night.
How could he?
After waking up in an alley, holding a gear he didn't remember stealing, hearing his heart beat backward—he just stared at the ceiling.
The ticking was gone.
But silence felt worse.
It was too quiet. Like the city was holding its breath.
He got up and walked to the sink. Washed his face. Cold water helped.
Then he looked up.
And froze.
The man in the mirror blinked late.
Haruto blinked.
The reflection blinked after.
His breath hitched. He stared harder.
Same black hair. Same pale face. Same tired eyes.
But the smile wasn't his.
The man in the mirror was smiling.
Haruto wasn't.
His hand trembled.
The mirror version tilted his head… and mouthed something.
Words formed.
> "Tick…"
Then again, slower.
> "Tick… tock…"
Haruto grabbed the sides of the sink. Shaking. "What the hell is this…?"
Then the smile vanished.
And his reflection matched him again.
Normal.
Like nothing happened.
He backed away slowly.
---
Later, in the tram on the way to work, he sat quietly. Sera chatted about her morning tea spilling on the conductor. Haruto barely heard a word.
That mirror… That face…
It was his.
But not.
It looked older. Maybe not by years. But by scars. Wounds he didn't have. Yet.
He closed his eyes.
And saw it again.
That same smile.
That same whisper.
> "Tick…"
—
At work, a visitor was waiting in the hall. Tall man. Strange coat. Wore gloves. Carried a box with tiny holes in it.
He turned to Haruto and smiled.
"Haruto Ishida, right?" he asked.
Haruto nodded slowly.
The man held up the box.
"I believe this is yours. You left it in the alley."
Haruto felt his stomach twist.
He didn't tell anyone about that.
The man placed the box in his hands.
"Don't open it here," he said.
Then he walked away. Vanished around the corner.
Gone.
Haruto looked down.
There was no lock. No sound from inside. Just a single word burned on the lid.
> "TICK."
He placed it in his desk drawer.
Didn't open it.
Couldn't.
Not yet.
---
That night, he dreamed.
But it wasn't his dream.
He stood in a burning hallway made of metal and glass. Gears screamed overhead. A huge door loomed before him, with golden chains wrapped around it.
A voice whispered from the other side.
> "Open it…"
> "You are me…"
> "I'm waiting…"
Then the ticking returned.
Fast. Loud. Sharp.
He turned around—
And saw the man from the mirror.
Bleeding from the eyes. Half his face broken like glass.
"You should've opened it," the broken Haruto said.
Then he reached forward—
—
Haruto woke up gasping.
His hands clutched the box.
He didn't remember grabbing it from his drawer.
But it was in his bed.
—
Far away, the girl in the coat smiled.
"Piece by piece," she said. "He's remembering."
The bell behind her rang once.
A rusted voice echoed from the dark:
> "Then he is close to becoming one of us."
---
End of Chapter 13.