The morning light cut through Akira's half-open window, washing his room in dull gray.
He hadn't slept — not really.
Every time his eyes closed, he saw that red light blinking from the corner of the wall.
That camera. That whisper.
> "You're not alone, Akira."
He sat there for hours, staring at the shattered remains of the lens scattered across the floor.
The silence was suffocating, heavy with something he couldn't name — fear, maybe. Or memory.
When his phone buzzed, he flinched.
A text from the school.
He was late again.
---
The walk to school felt longer than usual. Every reflection on passing windows looked like someone following. Every step behind him made him turn.
But there was no one.
Only the weight of unseen eyes.
When he reached the gates, whispers began immediately.
This time, sharper. Crueler.
> "He was seen near the classroom that day."
"Someone posted a clip — look, that's him!"
"Killer pretending to be normal."
Akira's name had become poison again.
He walked straight through the noise, pretending not to hear — though every word cut like glass.
His desk waited, clean and empty. Except for a single folded note.
He opened it slowly. The paper trembled in his hand.
> "You can't protect her anymore."
For a heartbeat, his chest froze.
That word again — her.
He didn't need to ask who it meant.
He knew.
---
The rooftop was the only place he could still breathe.
Cold wind brushed against his face as he leaned against the fence, eyes fixed on the city beyond.
"Maybe you should stop pretending it's over."
Akira turned sharply.
Hayato stood by the door, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
He wasn't smiling this time.
"What do you mean?" Akira asked.
Hayato's eyes narrowed slightly. "You think no one remembers that night? Someone does. Someone who's been waiting."
Akira's pulse quickened. "Who told you about that?"
"Let's just say I've been hearing things." Hayato took a step closer. "And now... it looks like you've been hearing things too."
Before Akira could reply, Hayato's phone buzzed.
He checked it — and his face paled.
He turned the screen toward Akira.
A message glowed on it, from no saved contact.
> "He found the camera. Move faster."
The air between them froze.
Akira's throat went dry. "Where did you—"
But Hayato just slipped the phone back into his pocket and gave a low, uneasy laugh.
"Guess we're both being watched now."
He walked away before Akira could stop him, leaving only the echo of his footsteps and a hundred questions that wouldn't quiet.
---
That night, rain poured endlessly over the city.
Akira couldn't stay home.
He wandered the streets, hoodie pulled low, hands buried deep in his pockets.
Every sound — a footstep, a car passing — felt too close.
He ended up near an old vending machine alley, empty except for the hum of flickering lights.
He bought a can of coffee and sat on the curb, exhausted.
When he opened it, his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
> "You shouldn't have talked to him."
"He'll die next."
The can slipped from his hand, spilling warm liquid across the concrete.
His eyes darted around.
The alley was empty — until he saw movement under the far streetlight.
Someone stood there, half-hidden by the rain.
An umbrella. A long coat. Perfectly still.
Akira's breath caught.
The figure raised a phone… and took a picture.
Click.
Then they turned and vanished down the corner.
Akira ran — heart pounding — but the street was already empty.
Only a folded paper lay where the figure had stood.
He picked it up with shaking hands.
Inside was a photograph.
His mother and sister.
Smiling outside their home earlier that day.
And beneath it, written in neat, black ink:
> "Next target."
The world tilted.
For the first time in years, Akira felt something stronger than guilt.
Terror.
He clutched the photograph, rain running down his face like tears, and whispered into the storm:
> "If you touch them… I'll find you."
Akira didn't sleep that night.
He sat in the corner of his small apartment, the photo of his mother and sister clutched in his hands, rain pounding against the windows.
The words from the note burned in his mind:
> "Next target."
His sister. His mother.
The people he'd promised to protect.
He had no idea who was behind it — or why.
But one thing was certain: whoever this was, they weren't just obsessed with him.
They wanted to destroy everything he cared about.
---
Morning at School
He walked through the gates with his usual calm mask.
The whispers followed him, but now Akira didn't care.
The danger wasn't here anymore — it was closer, hidden, waiting for a mistake.
When he reached his classroom, Hayato was already there, sitting in the back corner.
His eyes were fixed on Akira as if he'd been waiting all night.
"You look worse than usual," Hayato said, voice low.
Akira ignored him, dropping into his seat by the window.
Hayato didn't leave.
Instead, he slid a small folded note across the desk. Akira picked it up.
> "If you want to stop this, find the one who's always watching."
No signature. No hint of who had sent it.
But Akira felt the truth of it in his chest.
The stalker wasn't just someone from school.
They were inside his life. Someone who knew him — too well.
---
The Library Clue
After class, Akira went to the library — the one quiet place left in a world that wanted him gone.
He opened a random book, just to keep his mind occupied.
Inside, he found a crumpled photograph tucked between the pages:
His sister, smiling at school.
And behind her, almost invisible, a shadowy figure, standing just out of focus.
He froze.
This wasn't just a coincidence. Someone had been watching her too.
And worse, they were leaving clues for him — daring him to find them.
---
Hayato's Warning
Hayato appeared again as the library door closed behind Akira.
"You're getting reckless," he said.
"Following every lead won't keep her safe. You need to be smart."
Akira looked up, frustration flashing in his eyes.
"Smart? How am I supposed to be smart when someone is filming my every move? Someone knows everything about my life, Hayato. Even my family!"
Hayato sighed, leaning against a shelf.
"Then maybe it's time you stop pretending you're alone. The person watching you isn't just any stalker — they've been waiting for this moment. And they're patient."
Akira's hands clenched.
"How long have they been planning this?"
Hayato's eyes were unreadable.
"Long enough to know your every weakness."
---
The First Confrontation
That night, Akira returned home, heart racing.
He double-checked the apartment — no cameras, no signs of intrusion.
But then he noticed something he hadn't before: the front door latch was slightly loose, like someone had forced it open and closed it carefully.
A noise from the kitchen made him freeze.
> A shadow.
Someone was inside.
He lunged for the light switch.
Nothing.
Then the sound of a low laugh — distorted, chilling.
"Hello, Akira."
He spun around.
A figure stepped out from the dark — hood up, face obscured.
But the voice…
It was eerily familiar, soft, taunting.
> "You've been so careful. But you can't hide her forever."
Akira's heart hammered.
The shadow moved closer, and in one swift motion, pulled back the hood —
It wasn't a stranger.
It was someone he should have recognized.
And their eyes… mirrored his own.
---
End of Chapter 4