Krrring!
The annoying alarm clock jolted John out of a beautiful dream. Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal. He should've been grateful—after all, he had work to do—but this time…
He'd made a girlfriend in that dream.
A girlfriend! Even in his dreams, such a thing was rare, so he wanted to cling to that wonderful illusion a little longer. To him, it was the perfect birthday gift—until his alarm clock stole it away.
With a groan, John finally dragged himself out of bed.
As he lifted his pillow to brush off some dust and a stray hair, he noticed a tiny object tucked beneath it. It looked like a miniature book, the kind people often hang from chains or bags as decorations.
A gift? Maybe someone had left it for him yesterday during his birthday party but forgot to hand it over properly, slipping it under his pillow while he was asleep.
He picked up the little book, barely a centimeter in length. The moment he touched it, a strange sensation pulsed through him—an eerie connection, like the book was alive and reaching back at him.
John froze.
What… was that?
Weird. Definitely weird. But he pushed the thought aside.
Most likely, it was a prank or a present from his best friend, who knew the combination to his lock. John loved books, and of course Skinn knew that.
Shaking it off, John grabbed a cereal bar, downed a cup of coffee, and jumped in the shower. After getting ready, he finally headed out for work.
On the way, he ran into Skinn.
Skinn was everything John wasn't: fit, fashionable, and effortlessly social. John, by comparison, was thin, awkward, and hopeless when it came to fashion. His saving grace was his idealism—something a few people admired, though it wasn't exactly popular currency.
"Hey, John!" Skinn greeted him, adjusting his small briefcase. "I actually forgot to give you your birthday present yesterday. The delivery came late. Oh, and man—those ladies at your party? Fantastic. Anyway, here."
John blinked. Wait… so if Skinn hadn't given him a gift yet, then what about that miniature book?
He was about to ask when Skinn rummaged through his bag and pulled out a small wooden block shaped like a book, John's name neatly carved on the cover. Alongside it was another tiny book, identical to the one John had found under his pillow.
Seriously? Do I really look that bookish? John thought with a sigh.
"Here—wait, why are there two of these?" Skinn muttered, frowning.
"Yeah, you already gave me one of those," John said flatly.
"What? No, I don't remember giving you anything yet. Must've slipped in when it got delivered. Imported from Mexico, by the way. Pretty cool, huh? Anyway, both are yours now."
John narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you didn't give me one last night? While I was sleeping?"
Skinn shook his head. "Nope. Not that I remember."
If Skinn had been waiting for the delivery and just received it, then he was probably telling the truth. Unless, of course, he was lying… but why would he?
"So, gotta get going," Skinn said, waving as he turned to leave. "We're surveying the new mall construction site today. Catch you later?"
"Yeah, take care," John replied.
"May your intellectual powers shape your future!" Skinn shouted dramatically as he walked away.
John sighed. I'm not that smart… He thought of his countless past mistakes and shook his head.
For now, work awaited.
---
It was a normal day at his part-time job. After finishing, John dragged himself to his evening psychology class at college. Tired, yes, but he was used to it.
When class ended, he decided to head home early.
"Hey, John!" Skinn's voice called as he ran up, grinning. "That thing you said to the professor earlier? Pure gold, man!"
John shrugged. "It was just the simplified answer."
Skinn grinned wider. "Anyway, wanna check out that new café that opened yesterday?"
"No—"
John froze mid-sentence. Someone was watching him. Just past Skinn, a person stood, ordinary enough in appearance but radiating a strange aura. Intimidating yet oddly soothing, it prickled at his instincts.
Almost without thinking, John changed his mind. "...Sure. Let's go."
"Great!" Skinn beamed.
As they walked, John scanned the area. The presence hadn't vanished—it lingered, shifting just out of sight, behind walls and corners. By the time they neared the café, another aura bloomed from inside, stronger, more oppressive. His chest tightened.
"Hey, you've been staring off the whole time," Skinn said. "If something's up, you know I'll help."
"You've been talking this entire walk?" John asked absently.
"Uh, yeah? And you haven't answered a single question." Skinn chuckled. "So what's on your mind?"
"There's this weird guy—" John cut himself short.
The "weird guy" was in fact a woman. Small in stature, with glasses perched on her nose, and a cheerful-looking face. Yet that same eerie aura wrapped tightly around her.
And she wasn't alone.
Inside the café, a kid sat at a table, also radiating that unnatural presence. Their eyes locked with John's instantly, unblinking.
"Shall we head in?" Skinn nudged him, noticing John staring at the woman who had just looked away. "She's cute, huh? Want me to set you up?"
'Yes! I mean… no,' John thought desperately. "Nah. Let's just grab a seat."
"Alright, alright."
They entered the café. John ordered a plain double espresso, while Skinn treated himself to a cappuccino and a tuna sandwich. They sat down, Skinn chatting away about memes on his phone, oblivious to John's silence.
The woman followed them inside. John's heart sank. She moved with confidence, heading straight toward the boy's table without even looking. Like she knew exactly where he was.
Are they together? Are they after me?
John swallowed hard. Well… at least Skinn's here. My precious Skinn will protect me.
He nearly chuckled at the thought.
But when the woman suddenly turned and started walking toward their table, John's skin prickled.
"Skinn," he said quickly, "I think I should head home. This whole day's been… weird."
"You sure? She's literally coming this way! Dude, this could be your one-in-a—"
"No." John cut him off sharply. "I'll recharge tonight. I'll explain tomorrow."
Skinn sighed, shrugging. "Alright, man. I get it. Take care."
John hurried out, the uneasy sensation dogging him all the way home. The city was full of faint presences now—most distant, but a few dangerously close.
By the time he reached his room, his head spun with questions. Too many questions. But exhaustion won. He collapsed into bed, still in his socks, ignoring the untouched espresso he'd carried home.
---
The next morning, John woke refreshed. He lifted his pillow—and froze.
Two letters lay underneath.
The first, written on a larger sheet, was from Skinn. John unfolded it and frowned. He could've just emailed me. And when did he sneak this in?
"Hey man, about that girl yesterday—the one you thought was some weird guy? She's actually pretty great! She said she wanted to talk to you, but wouldn't tell me about what. Even after I told her we were best friends! Anyway, she really seems interested in you. Haha, her reaction totally changed whenever your name came up. Honestly, maybe this is your chance to step up, man. Don't get me wrong, she seems nice. She asked me to give you this letter. I wanted to open it, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I left it under your pillow and wrote my own note here on your desk. Take care, man. Forever your best friend,
—Skinn."
John groaned. "Longest letter ever. And he wrote this while I was asleep? Only Skinn…"
He turned to the smaller envelope. The one from the girl.
He opened it.
Inside, just two short lines:
"I want to talk to you.
About your grimoire."
John's blood ran cold.
What?