"Will it going to be a huge problem?" Wayne's mother asked with a gasp, her eyes wide with worry. Her hands were trembling, clutching the end of her cloth tightly as she looked at the doctor with desperation.
"Maybe… maybe not," the female doctor said in a calm but serious voice. "As long as he takes his medicines on time, I don't think it'll turn into a major problem. But he might get small headaches from time to time. What's more important," she added with a firm tone, "is that you give him peace of mind."
Wayne's mother nodded quickly, her lips pressed into a thin line, They both tried to look as if they truly cared.
Later, they took Wayne home, buying the prescribed medicines along the way.
———
For Wayne's parents, the only good thing was that Wayne didn't remember anything from the night before. The memory loss had blurred that scary night in the storeroom. He only felt a bit tired and had a light headache, but he didn't ask much. That was a relief to them.
After returning home, it didn't take long for his parents to start fighting again. Their voices echoed in the small house as they shouted over silly matters, completely ignoring what the doctor had said about keeping Wayne calm.
Wayne, however, was used to this chaos. He quietly went to his room, closed the door behind him, and curled up on his bed. He just hugged his pillow and stared at the ceiling, letting the noise fade in his mind.
At least, they never forgot to give him his medicines on time.
As time passed, things started to change a little. His father finally got a decent job. With that, the fights started to happen less often. Both of them became busy with work, and Wayne had a bit more silence around him.
But that didn't mean everything got better.
His father still spent a big part of his salary on alcohol or gambling. Many times, he came home drunk, yelling nonsense and sometimes even breaking things. His mother, on the other hand, was once caught texting and laughing with one of her male colleagues, which led to more arguments.
The same cycle repeated. His father demanded that she stay home like a 'proper wife', while his mother shouted at him to stop wasting money on drinks. Sometimes they dragged Wayne into the fight, blaming each other through him.
As Wayne grew older and reached around fourteen, many things began to change in his life. Not just around him, but inside him too.
----------
If someone had to imagine a child who grew up in a home full of shouting, stress, and fights between parents, they'd probably think of a weak and shy kid—someone with messy hair always falling over their eyes, someone who couldn't speak well, someone scared of everything and everyone.
But things don't always look like that from the outside.
Sometimes, on the outside, everything looks normal. The child smiles, talks, makes friends. But inside… inside, everything is broken, cold, and dark.
---
Wayne, now around fourteen, had just started high school. He looked normal—neat hair, clean uniform, a little quiet but friendly with the other students. He even made a few friends on his first day.
Right now, it was nearly 6 PM. But school had ended at 1 PM.
As Wayne walked toward his house, his mother stood at the door, arms crossed, a deep frown on her face. Her eyes locked on him like a hawk spotting prey.
The moment she saw him, she shouted, "Where were you?!"
Wayne didn't even flinch. He looked her in the eyes and answered calmly.
"It was the first day. After class, we had to form clubs and get to know the school. Then, on my way back, I met a friend's parents and stayed at their place for a while. And after that—"
Before he could finish, she interrupted.
"Okay, okay! But don't go to just anyone's house. And what's the point of giving you a phone if you never call?!"
She moved aside to let him in.
Wayne walked past her with a nod and a soft "Hmm."
Inside his head, though, he was smirking.
"Ha! Who'd believe I was just fooling around all day? Lying is so easy… and mother is the easiest to fool," he laughed silently to himself.
He went straight to his room and shut the door.
At first, he did a bit of his homework—just to keep up appearances. Then he lay on his bed and took out his old Nokia phone. It had a tiny screen, a few buttons, and some light games like Snake. Nothing fancy, but enough to kill time.
As he played, a spider dropped down right in front of his face, dangling from its web.
Wayne just looked at it, then flicked it away with his finger. It flew to the other corner of the room, and he didn't even blink.
A few minutes later, though, he looked back at where the spider had been and smiled to himself.
"Why was I ever scared of stuff like that? If I could meet my younger self, I'd call him an idiot," he thought with a sigh.
As he grew up, Wayne started to understand the world better. There were no ghosts, no monsters hiding under the bed, no demons waiting in the dark. Spiders and cockroaches? They weren't scary anymore.
With each passing year, his fears faded away—slowly, quietly—until one day, there was nothing left to fear.
---
Later that night, Wayne sat at his desk, sketching like he often did. He wasn't great at drawing, but he enjoyed it. It helped him focus. His dinner was done, and soon he would go to sleep.
Just then, his mother entered with a glass of water and a small tablet. She placed them on the desk beside him.
"Wayne, don't forget to take your medicine and sleep early… or else the Child Emperor will eat you!" she said with a strange chuckle, then turned around and left.
Wayne blinked.
Child Emperor.
That name pulled out a memory from his childhood—a cartoon villain that used to scare him when he was little.
Now, though, he just rolled his eyes.
"Hah! As if I'd ever believe in that crap again," he scoffed silently and returned to his sketch.
When he finished, he placed the paper aside, turned off the lights, and fell onto the bed with a soft thump. He closed his eyes, letting his body relax.
But just as sleep was about to come…
That one word echoed again.
A word he hated.
A word that always returned when the world was quiet.
"Kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill... kill..."
Wayne first placed his hands over his ears, his face showing clear irritation. He let out a tired sigh and slowly got up from the bed.
"Didn't I exhaust myself enough today?" he muttered to himself in a low voice.
Ever since that night in the dark storeroom, Wayne had been hearing a strange, creepy voice in his head — a whisper that kept repeating the same words again and again.
"Kill… Kill… Kill…"
It wasn't loud during the day, especially when he was busy with school or helping around the house. But the moment everything around him became quiet, the voice would return. It was worst at night, in the silence of his room. That voice made sleeping very difficult.
So, Wayne had made a habit of tiring himself out during the day. He wanted his body to be so exhausted that the moment his head touched the pillow, he would fall asleep instantly. He did everything — push-ups, sit-ups, running laps around the neighborhood, even reading martial arts books and trying out the moves in secret. He also ate healthy meals, trying his best to keep his body strong and fit.
But maybe, today wasn't enough. Maybe he still had some leftover energy.
So, he dropped to the floor and began doing push-ups, counting each one in a whisper. His arms ached, but he kept going. Then he stood up and started punching the air, kicking like he saw fighters do on TV. The room was small, but he moved around as much as he could.
Still not tired enough.
So, he walked over to the window, opened it wide, and without hesitation, jumped out. The night was dark and a little cold, but he didn't care. He ran around the quiet streets, barefoot, breathing heavily as sweat rolled down his face. His clothes stuck to his skin, and his legs burned with pain.
After some time, he returned home. His body was now soaked in sweat, his breathing uneven, and his eyes heavy.
He climbed back through the window and went straight to bed, not even bothering to change. The moment his back touched the bed, sleep hit him like a wave.
His mind slowly drifted away into the world of dreams, or maybe something deeper. Time passed — he didn't know how long — before his eyes fluttered open again. Not fully, just halfway.
Something felt wrong.
He couldn't move. His chest felt heavy, like someone was sitting on it. And his neck… something was pressing down on it, choking him. He tried to move his arms, his legs, anything… but his body didn't respond.
"Is this… sleep paralysis?" he thought, but even his own thoughts felt slow and muddy, like they were stuck in thick glue.
Then, in the corner of his blurry vision, he saw something — someone — walk into his room.
It was a boy, maybe the same age and height as Wayne, but there was something very wrong about him.
He was wearing old, royal-looking clothes, like a prince from some ancient kingdom. But his face was terrifying. His eyes bulged out unnaturally, his teeth were sharp like knives, and his thin arms and legs looked like dry sticks. Blood stained his cheeks and mouth, making him look even more horrifying.
Wayne's heart pounded in his chest.
He recognized the boy.
It was the Child Emperor — the villain from an old cartoon he used to watch called Fable vs Child Emperor. But this wasn't the silly version from the cartoon. This one looked real. And evil.
"What the hell? A ghost? A nightmare? A prank?" Wayne panicked inside his head. But his body still refused to move.
The Child Emperor had a strange delivery box in his hands. Without saying a word, he walked to the far corner of the room… and then—
Woosh!
He vanished. Just like that. As if he was never there.
"Ahhhh… Huff… Huff…" Wayne screamed as he suddenly sat up on his bed, his body covered in sweat and his chest rising and falling quickly. His heart was beating so fast, like it wanted to jump out of his chest.
"What was that…?" he whispered, still shaking. He looked around his dark room, trying to calm down. Then his eyes stopped at the corner of the room.
There was a box there. A delivery box.
But something about it felt… wrong.
The whole area around the box looked darker than the rest of the room, like a shadow was stuck there. It gave him a strange, heavy feeling in his chest. His breath became shallow again.
"I'm not going near that thing," he muttered and quickly turned around. He ran out of his room, his footsteps loud in the quiet house.
He went to the living room and looked outside the window. The night was still there, cold and silent. The stars blinked above, but even they felt distant tonight.
Wayne walked around the house to check if anyone was home. But the rooms were empty. His parents weren't there. The silence was scary.
He started to panic. He thought of using landline, ready to call someone—maybe even the police—but then he saw something taped to his front door.
A note.
He pulled it off and began to read.
> "Even though today is Sunday, I still have to go to work because today is a big meeting. I might come home late tonight—maybe around midnight. And since your father doesn't get Sundays off but Tuesdays instead, no one will be home today.
> If your father comes home early and is drunk, just stay in your room and don't get involved.
> Also, I made food for you already. It's in the microwave!
> —Your Mother"
Wayne blinked a few times. "Huh? Sunday?" he said aloud, confused.
He hurried to check the calendar on the wall. And his eyes widened in surprise. "It's really Sunday… and it's already 7 PM?" he mumbled.
"I slept the whole day?"
He sighed deeply and rubbed his face. "No wonder I had such a scary dream…"
**Grrrrrr…**
A loud growl came from his stomach, breaking the tense silence. Wayne chuckled weakly and rubbed his belly. "Alright, alright, I hear you."
He walked into the kitchen and opened the microwave. Sure enough, there was a plate of food inside, just like his mom had said.
He heated it up and took it out, hungry and ready to eat. But the moment he took the first bite, his face scrunched up in disgust.
"Urgh! What is this? This tastes awful! Like it's been rotting for days," he said with a twisted expression. "Even I can cook better than this!"
And he wasn't lying.
Wayne had learned to cook on his own a while ago. It wasn't the first time he had been left home alone like this. Over time, he picked up how to make simple dishes by himself.
Still feeling hungry but unable to eat more of the food, Wayne threw the plate into the sink and walked back to his room.
As he stepped inside, his eyes once again went to the corner where the box was sitting.
His chest tightened.
"That stupid box…" he whispered. His heart beat faster just looking at it.
But this time, he didn't run away.
He stood there for a moment, took a deep breath, and told himself, "No… Ghosts don't exist."
Slowly, step by step, he walked toward the box. The air felt heavy, and he looked around carefully, afraid that something might jump at him. But nothing happened.
He finally reached the box and crouched down.
With shaking hands, he opened it.
Inside… was not a scary monster, or something creepy like he had feared.
Instead, it was a doll.
A male doll wearing a leather jacket and a hat. He had a toy gun in his hand, and his pose looked cool—like a detective from old movies.
Wayne blinked in confusion. "Huh? What's this? Some kind of surprise gift?" he said, laughing a little. His fear started to melt away.
But then—right in front of his eyes—the doll moved.
Its little head turned up to look at him.
And in a clear, confident voice, it spoke.
"I'm Fable."