The world was still asleep.
A pale, colorless light slid through the thin curtains and spread across the floor in silent streaks. The air was heavy — neither cold nor warm — just motionless. A stillness that weighed on the chest, enough to make each breath sound too loud.
He opened his eyes for no reason. No alarm. No sound. Just that strange certainty that morning had already arrived.
The ceiling was the same as yesterday. The same thin, pale crack running across it like a vein. He stared at it for a moment, waiting for his body to feel alive again. Nothing came.
Slowly, he sat up. The sheets clung to his skin, cold and rough. His hair fell in front of his eyes, but he didn't try to move it away. Time didn't seem to have started yet.
He turned his head slightly to the left. On the bedside table, an alarm clock displayed 6:00. The red numbers pulsed faintly in the dimness, like a heartbeat that no longer belonged to him.
He ran a hand through his hair. His fingers felt foreign, numb, as if they belonged to someone else. The air in the room smelled of dust and rain, even though the window was closed.
Outside, the sky was gray — a pale, hesitant gray, unable to choose between dawn and storm. In the distance, a bird sang. Only once. Then nothing, as if it understood the world wasn't ready to listen yet.
He eventually got up. His feet touched the cold floor, enough to remind him he still existed.
Another breath. Another second. The clock kept counting. And the day began — calmly, indifferently, without asking him if he truly wanted it.
First, he went to the bathroom connected to his bedroom. He approached the mirror and stared at his reflection for a few seconds.
It was him, his own reflection. His slightly pale skin, the visible dark circles, his messy black hair.
He turned on the faucet and let the water run over his hands, then over his head, cold and insistent.
He grabbed a towel placed next to the sink and wiped his face before letting his eyes dive back into the mirror.
…
But that reflection meant nothing to him. It inspired nothing. As if he were observing someone he didn't know, a stranger he had crossed paths with for the first time.
What's happening to me this morning? he wondered.
It was the first time he had ever felt anything like this. Everything seemed wrong: himself, his room, time, the hour, his apartment… absolutely everything.
He gripped the edges of the sink, his back slightly hunched, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A few thoughts floated through his mind, fragile and distant…
After a few seconds that felt like hours, Hawn opened his eyes again. But nothing had changed. That sense of disconnection refused to leave him.
To clear his mind, he decided to go out for a walk. It was early morning. The sun was beginning to rise, but the light hesitated between shadow and day.
Hawn put on some clothes scattered across his room. He chose something simple: a comfortable tracksuit.
He headed to the entrance, put on his shoes, and opened the door.
Outside, the sky was gray, covered with clouds. Mixed with the first glimmers of sunlight, they created a strange atmosphere, suspended between night and day.
Hawn leaned against the railing facing his door, observing that uncertain sky, feeling the cool air slide across his face. For a moment, the world seemed to wait with him.
He inhaled one last time, letting the fresh wind brush against his skin. He gently pushed off the railing, left the relative safety of his apartment, and went down the stairs, each of his steps echoing in the morning silence.
Tac… tac… tac…
The city seemed half-asleep. The streetlights cast a pale, flickering glow, yet remained lit even though one could see without them. The streets were empty, damp, glistening under the dew.
There were no car sounds, no passersby. Hawn was accompanied only by the faint whistle of the wind brushing against his ears.
…
…
Ah shit…
After a few minutes of walking, the feeling refused to leave him. On the contrary, the city's atmosphere seemed to amplify it. Every reflection of the streetlights on the wet asphalt, every echo of distant footsteps pulled him deeper into this unreal sensation, as if he were dreaming and nothing could possibly be real.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a solitary bench under a streetlamp. Without any specific reason, he walked toward it and sat down, letting his body sink into the cold, silent wood.
Crsshh…
The bench creaked slightly under his weight. The wood was worn and wobbled a little, but Hawn felt a strange sense of relief sitting there.
Hff…
A short sigh, freed, almost unconscious.
He leaned back against the bench.
He could hear a few birds fluttering their wings above his head.
At the same moment, the streetlamp beside him turned off, confirming daybreak.
Hawn stayed there for a few moments, still filled with that same vague feeling. He closed his eyes, pretending to think, desperately trying to find some logic in all this.
Bzz… Bzz…
" Mmh? " he muttered instinctively.
While he was sinking into his thoughts, a vibration had pierced through the silence. He slipped a hand into his pocket before remembering he had left his phone on the bedside table.
So where was the sound coming from?
He turned his head to the left — and there, on the bench, just a few centimeters away, a phone vibrated, the screen lit. What troubled him wasn't the device itself… but the fact that he hadn't noticed it before sitting down.
He slowly lifted his eyes, scanning his surroundings. No one. Not a silhouette. Not a sound, except the soft breath of the wind.
A thick silence.
Hawn hesitated, then, driven by a curiosity he didn't understand himself, reached out. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the device. The screen glowed faintly, casting a bluish light across his skin.
Without thinking further, he picked it up.
The screen was still vibrating faintly in his hand. A notification appeared. A simple message.
" Kurohana Building. "
Nothing else. No name, no number. Just those two words.
Hawn remained still, his breath suspended. He reread the message several times without truly understanding. The Kurohana building… it sounded familiar. An old office building a few blocks away. Closed for a long time.
Hawn had heard about it from some residents of the neighborhood, but honestly, there wasn't much remarkable about the place.
He turned his head again, scanning the surroundings. Still no one. The wind slipped between the buildings, lifting a piece of paper that drifted to his feet.
He looked at the phone again. The screen had dimmed, then lit up again on its own, repeating the same name:
" Kurohana Building. "
A slight shiver ran down his neck. Maybe the owner had lost their phone there? Or maybe they were waiting for him?
He sighed, put the device in his pocket, and stood up from the bench.
Crsshh… The wood creaked under his weight as he rose once more.
He cast one last look at the now-extinguished streetlamp, then began walking. His steps echoed in the empty streets, steady, muffled by the rising mist.
Tac… tac… tac…
The air grew colder as he advanced.
The building wasn't located very far, and in just a few minutes of walking, he reached the front.
Despite its abandoned appearance, the structure was surprisingly clean, as if someone made sure it didn't become unsanitary — a discreet but regular care that contrasted with its deserted look.
Hawn stepped toward the main door, grabbed the handle firmly, and pushed it open.
The interior was clean… but empty. At first glance, no one was there. Hawn swept the room with his eyes for a few seconds, then took out the phone he had put in his pocket.
...
No new message.
He inhaled, slightly nervous.
" Is anybody here? Hey, i have your phone! "
His voice echoed in the silence, fading into the empty walls. No response. Not even an echo.
A shiver ran down his spine. Out of ideas, Hawn decided to search the place, to walk through the hallways looking for someone. Maybe the phone's owner was still there… or maybe they simply hadn't heard him.
But that was unlikely. The building was closed, and every word he uttered resonated heavily in the air. If anyone had been there, they would've heard him.
He eventually found a staircase. The steps creaked faintly under his feet, echoing through the silence. One floor. Then another. Nothing. Still that heavy emptiness, that almost unreal calm.
When he reached the top landing, he found himself facing a metal door. Behind it, he could guess the morning light filtering through the cracks. The roof.
He placed his hand on the handle. His heart sped up — not violently, just enough for him to feel each beat resonate in his chest.
He didn't know exactly why — or rather, he did, but some things aren't meant to be said — and yet the idea of opening that door made him nervous.
In a burst, he shook his head as if to chase away that awful thought and opened the door…
Once again, there was nothing and no one.
Haa…
He let out a sigh.
The wind was blowing strongly, sweeping through his hair and slapping his jacket against his body. Hawn leaned against the edge of the building, his fingers tightening around the cold metal. Below him, the city stretched out, silent, drowned in a gray light. The rooftops blended into a blurred horizon, the heavy clouds smothering the sun.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the wind brush his face. The damp concrete under his hands, the fresh taste of the air, the breath of his lungs… everything felt more real than the rest.
His thoughts drifted and zigzagged through his mind.
A deeper breath, a gust of wind passing across his neck. He opened his eyes and looked at the horizon, the sun hidden behind gray clouds.
Up on this building, he felt good, and that strange feeling began to fade.
The wind kept blowing, steady, almost reassuring. Hawn inhaled slowly, letting the air fill his chest, then dissolve like cold vapor.
But the more he breathed, the more another weight, quieter, rose within him. A dull tension, nestled somewhere beneath his ribs, lurking in a corner of his thoughts. It moved with slow, imperceptible steps, like a shadow waiting for him to lower his guard.
He closed his eyes again.
Just a moment.
Just enough to feel the wind, the concrete, the gray light.
…
But the air changed. As if it were tightening around him. As if the world, all around, were holding its breath.
Hawn frowned slightly, without opening his eyes. A strange pressure formed in his chest. Not a pain… more like a familiar feeling. Too familiar. A sort of distant call, an inner fall he thought he had buried long ago.
Poum… poum…
His heart beat harder. Not fast. Just hard. Like a muffled sound in an empty hallway.
Hhh… h—hh…
His breathing became irregular. The wind, though constant, suddenly felt colder, sharper. His fingers, gripping the railing, slipped slightly, trembling.
He tried to keep his eyes shut. He tried to ignore that sensation crawling inside him.But everything was becoming too heavy.
His breath caught for a moment.
And without any reason… he felt himself falling.
Not forward.Not backward.Just… falling. As if the ground had vanished, as if the world crumbled silently beneath him.
His stomach tightened.His fingers searched for a grip that didn't exist. The light behind his eyelids flickered, twisted, drifted like a shard of glass in water.
The wind disappeared.
Everything disappeared.
He tried to open his eyes — but he wasn't sure if he was opening them or losing them. A vertigo stretched on, long, endless, like a fall without air, without end, without gravity.
Then —
A soft impact.A breath. A tremor of the world.
Hawn opened his eyes.
The air wasn't the same. The light wasn't either.
And in front of him, it was no longer the roof of the Kurohana building.It wasn't even the city.
He was… somewhere else.
In a place he didn't recognize. A place that resembled nothing he knew.
A place where the world, perhaps, was only just beginning.