The new day dawned like any other, or so it seemed. Aurex, a creature of habit, rose at six, performed his morning rituals, and descended for breakfast. His family was already there, a picture of domestic tranquility. His father, as always, was engrossed in his newspaper, a cup of black coffee steaming beside him. His mother hummed a soft tune, sipping orange juice, while his sister, a teacher, looked prim and prepared for work, her teacher's pin gleaming on her lapel. Jeno, his younger brother, was happily munching toast, his legs swinging rhythmically under the table.
A perfect family portrait, everyone smiling, everything in its predictable place. But beneath Aurex's own placid facade, a storm was brewing. The night had been a restless tangle of thoughts, all centered on one perilous question: How could he unearth the truth about this town without raising suspicion? Each potential inquiry felt like a trap. "Where do we live?" "What's beyond these borders?" "Why do people vanish?" Even the silent echoes of these questions made his chest tighten, a warning of the danger lurking behind a single misspoken word.
Then his gaze landed on his father, the same unwavering figure, absorbed in the daily paper, a subtle nod every now and then, as if privy to a secret knowledge no one else possessed. A risky impulse seized Aurex, but he went with it. "Dad," he began, his voice surprisingly steady, "what are you reading?"
His father, without looking up, replied, "The news."
Aurex pressed on, striving for casual curiosity. "Yeah, but… what's in the news?"
Finally, his father lifted his eyes, his expression as warm and familiar as ever. "Let's see," he mused, turning a page. "A man was caught breaking the rules. Killed someone, was killed on the spot. Then there was a robbery near the southern sector. Took jewelry, mostly. Oh, and the prices for some groceries went up. Apples especially."
Aurex nodded, a smile fixed on his face. "That's… good."
It wasn't good. It was profoundly unsettling. Yet, paradoxically, it felt normal. For the first time, he'd heard about theft, murder, rising prices. Imperfections. Cracks. And cracks, he realized, meant something was hidden beneath.
The walk to school with Jeno was a familiar tableau: friendly waves exchanged with neighbors, quiet, immaculately clean streets, everything precisely where it belonged. School itself was a mirror of this order. The day began, as it always did, with an hour dedicated to the recitation and glorification of the Rules. Students sat in flawless rows, their smiles unwavering as the teacher extolled the town's perfect order and the virtues of obedience.
Aurex joined in the smiling, but his mind was a chaotic jumble. His chest still hummed with a strange satisfaction from the news of the robbery. It shouldn't have brought him joy, but it had. He finally had proof that this polished facade wasn't flawless. It had blemishes.
When the break bell rang, he headed to the cafeteria. Just like yesterday, and the day before, the boy was already there: red eyes, a quiet smile, eating alone. Aurex watched as two other students approached him, a mix of curiosity and caution on their faces. "Why are your eyes red?" they asked.
The boy turned his head, his grin widening, as if stitched permanently into his features. "I keep my eyes open," he chuckled. "It's good for my health."
Aurex chuckled too, but an unsettling sensation lingered. It wasn't just the words; it was the seat. Day one, the boy had been near the right wall. Day two, by the left. Now, he was dead center. Aurex chose the seat directly across from him, pretending not to notice the subtle shift. His mind, however, was racing. Why the constant change of seats? Was it a test? Was he trying to communicate something? Surely, it was safer to stick to a consistent routine. He longed to ask, but too many questions could draw unwanted attention.
When the break ended, classes resumed, but Aurex's concentration was fractured. His thoughts ricocheted between the enigmatic boy, the disturbing newspaper revelations, and the tantalizing possibility that he wasn't alone in his growing skepticism.
After school, he had his usual fifteen-minute window before Jeno's class dismissed. Ordinarily, he'd use this time to explore, to wander and observe. But today, an unshakeable instinct tugged him elsewhere. He decided to check on his brother.
The younger classes were in a different wing of the school, a short walk away, and somehow, the hallways felt even quieter, more still. He walked slowly, peering into each classroom. Every one was identical: teachers standing, students sitting, all smiling, listening, learning. Exactly the same.
He reached Jeno's section and waited. The final bell pierced the silence. Students began to file out, one by one, all in a neat line, all smiling. Then he saw Jeno. Aurex waved, but Jeno simply walked past him.
Confused, Aurex stepped directly into his path. "Hey."
Jeno blinked. "Oh. I didn't see you. You came out of nowhere."
Aurex found this remark odd; he'd been standing there the whole time. Still, he said nothing. They walked home together, Jeno chattering about something humorous his teacher had said. Aurex smiled and nodded, playing his part.
At home, his mother greeted them with her usual warmth. Dinner was served, the evening routine unfolding like clockwork. Afterward came the ritualistic one-hour praise session: the ten rules, their unwavering benefits, their boundless blessings. Everyone performed their roles flawlessly.
As the clock struck six, Aurex retreated to his room. He locked the door. For the first time, the click of the lock didn't feel like a simple privacy measure. It felt like a shield, a flimsy barrier against an unknown danger. He sat at his desk, diary open, but his pen hovered above the page.
What do they do? he wondered. My mom, my dad, my sister, Jeno. What do they actually do between six and ten?
He stared at the door, the click of the lock echoing in his mind. This wasn't just a rule; it was a barrier between him and whatever truth might be lurking on the other side. He tiptoed over and pressed his ear against the wood.
Silence. Then, faint footsteps.
His body tensed. These weren't the usual, everyday sounds. Not pacing. Not someone simply getting something. Just… footsteps. Steady. Soft. Like someone was sneaking around, careful not to wake him.
His breath caught. Why were there footsteps? His parents had always been so strict. "Once you're in your room, you stay." They'd uttered those words with unwavering conviction, with an undercurrent of fear he now recognized. Were they lying? Or were they doing something he wasn't meant to know?
He backed away from the door and slid into bed, lying stiffly under his blanket, forcing the corners of his mouth into a practiced smile. He couldn't pinpoint why he was scared, or why he felt… sad. There was nothing to be sad about. Everyone was safe. The town was perfect. The rules were clear. So why did the soft, steady footsteps make him feel like everything he believed was about to crumble?
He drifted into sleep with that unsettling question echoing louder than the ten p.m. bell.