[Manhattan 3rd POV]
Julia and Scott stood in silence as they stared at each other. Emma, sitting nearby, looked confused—wondering why her friend was crying while staring at a schoolboy.
It seemed like Julia and Scott were causing a scene in the restaurant, as everyone had turned to look at them.
Julia walked up to Scott and kissed him. Scott was shocked but didn't push her away.
Emma, along with everyone else in the restaurant, was surprised. Some people started taking pictures, while others returned to what they were doing.
Emma stood up and tried to stop them.
They stopped kissing and looked at her. Julia took Scott's hand and, while wiping her tears away, said to Emma:
"Emma, meet my boyfriend Justin. And Justin, meet my best friend Emma," she said with a smile.
Emma looked at Scott, her eyes wide in shock. In her mind, she was thinking, "Aren't you supposed to be dead?" but she didn't say it aloud. Scott, in turn, seemed confused by the way Emma was looking at him.
They went to sit down at their table. Julia kept thinking, "I thought I'd never see you again," while Emma wanted to ask what had happened... but felt it wasn't her place to do so.
"How are you still alive? I thought you died," Julia asked Scott, and Emma focused closely on the conversation.
"Well, I did die actually. Technically not dead per se, but it felt like my heart stopped beating," Scott said. Emma looked at him with a frustrated expression, while Julia simply smiled at him.
"Oh, you mean how I'm still alive," Scott added.
He began telling them the story of what happened after parting ways with Julia... how three guys came after him, how he was stabbed and shot by them, how he fell off a bridge and ended up in Staten Island, and how he was treated at Gotham Hospital before eventually returning.
He didn't mention meeting Sarah or the other people.
After telling the story, Julia simply hugged Scott without saying a word.
Meanwhile, Emma was thinking, "Might be luck."
While they were talking, Scott's order was ready, and he went to pick it up. As he was saying goodbye to them, Julia suddenly stood up and grabbed her jacket.
Scott was confused by her actions, and Julia told him she was leaving with him.
She said she was going to stay with him.
Both Scott and Emma were shocked when they heard that. Emma said nothing, while Scott just stared at Julia for a few seconds before finally agreeing to her request—or a demand.
Scott and Julia walked to Scott's penthouse, which wasn't far. Neither of them was in a hurry to get there.
Julia was shocked when she reached Scott's penthouse. As she stepped inside, she was surprised by the interior design—it was far more impressive than she expected.
She walked into the living room and spotted someone watching TV on the couch. At first, Julia was taken aback by the luxurious couch itself, but her attention quickly shifted as she grew curious about the person sitting on it.
It was Sarah.
Sarah felt someone walk into the room and said,
"So, you're fina—lly... Who are you?" she asked as she turned around and saw Julia.
"I'm Justin's girlfriend, Julia. And I assume you must be his sister, Sarah. Nice to meet you," Julia said, recalling that Scott had told her he was living with his sister.
"Justin? Sister? Is that what he told you? How many names does he have?" Sarah said, eyeing Julia with a raised eyebrow.
Julia was confused by Sarah's words, and before she could ask a question, Scott walked into the living room.
Sarah glanced at him and said,
"Great. Just-in-time. I've become acquainted with Julia," she added, turning her attention back to the TV.
Scott simply told Sarah that Julia would be living with them. Sarah nodded and said, "Fine by me," before continuing to mind her own business.
Fast forward to dinner time.
They ate and went to sleep. Julia chose to sleep in Scott's room, refusing to stay in the guest room.
A week passed.
Scott finished writing his exams and bought a new phone on Tuesday. He planned to go shopping over the weekend.
Unbeknownst to them, something had happened during the week in the United Kingdom.
[United Kingdom, England 3rd POV]
{15 March, 20:30} A woman was running through an alley in the Whitechapel district.
She was terrified, her breaths short and ragged as she tried to scream for help—but her voice came out distorted, broken by panic. In her frantic escape, she collided with a trash can and fell hard to the ground, scraping her palms on the cobblestone.
Suddenly, from behind her, a hoarse voice began to sing—a chilling, raspy tune that echoed off the alley walls like a death chant.
"🎵Lon-don Bridge is
fall-ing down,
fall-ing down,
fall-ing down;
Lon-don Bridge is
falling down,🎵"
A man emerged from the alley like a nightmare carved from the flesh of darkness itself. He wore a long, tattered black overcoat. Beneath it, a gray three-piece suit clung tightly to his grotesque, skinless frame—an anatomy of exposed muscle and sinew, horrifying in its detail. His red, raw tissue pulsed faintly beneath the dim glow of a flickering gas lamp.
His skeletal face, stripped of all skin, twisted into a grin far too wide—and he had no eyes, just hollow sockets that seemed to drink in the world. A tall, black top hat sat atop his head, and his tie was fastened tight—neat, as though he'd dressed for a formal killing.
In one hand, he gripped a gleaming kukri knife. He walked with purpose, his smile never faltering—a revenant cloaked in civility, reeking of blood and old London rot.
"🎵My fair
la dy.🎵" He finished singing in that hoarse, bone-chilling voice and slowly walked toward the woman, his hollow gaze fixed on her trembling form.
As she scrambled backward, tears streaking her dirt-smudged face, he loomed over her like a shadow cast by death itself. She begged—voice cracking, hands raised in a futile plea for mercy.
Without a word, he raised his knife. The last thing she saw was that horrifying, skinless grin as the blade came down.
[Scene changed- Somewhere in London]
Three people were walking through the streets of London, deep in conversation. One of them was holding something in his hands—something that couldn't quite be described. It resembled a crystal globe, yet it didn't appear to be fully physical. It had a strange glow.
"What were you thinking, bringing him back? Now look at the femicide he's caused… TOO MANY!" one of them said sharply, turning to glare at the man beside him.
"Nah, it was more like gendercide," the man replied calmly, halting mid-step and looking back. "Besides, it was to stop something far worse than the number of victims."
"IT'S STILL THE SAME THING!" the first man shouted. "You caused all those people to die in the span of three days, Morgave! For someone who claims he's trying to be different, you sure act a lot like your family."
Morgave's eyes narrowed, fury rising in his voice. "Don't you dare bring my family into this. I am NOTHING like them. NOTHING. LIKE. THEM."
Suddenly, he noticed the third member of the group, Tom, looking around distractedly.
"Tom, what are you looking for?" Morgave asked.
"It's night… but I can't see the moon," Tom replied, glancing at him with a puzzled look.
"What are you talking about? The moon is right... wait." Morgave's voice trailed off as he looked up. His face stiffened.
"Henry, how many days did you say the thing's been killing people?" Morgave asked, suddenly uneasy.
"Three days," Henry said, confused and irritated. "Why?"
Morgave's expression changed to panic. "Oh no. No, no, no, no. We don't have time."
Tom and Henry exchanged looks. Henry's tone shifted.
"What do you mean, 'we don't have time'?"
"We need to send her back—NOW!" Morgave snapped.
"Who? That harmless ghost?" Tom scoffed. "She isn't dangerous."
"I'm not worried about the female ghost," Morgave said, already beginning to walk. "I'm worried about what comes after."
"What comes after?" Henry asked, his voice now tinged with worry.
"The female ghost was summoned on Saturday night, right? That means today marks the fourth day she's been here in the land of the living," Morgave said, his pace quickening. "Which means… he's coming."
"Who's coming?" Tom asked.
"He's... he's almost here," Morgave said, glancing up at the sky.
High above them, black smoke began to coil and twist in the troposphere, spreading like a storm.
All across London, people looked up—startled—as the sky began to darken with smoke.
And across every coastline near the North Sea, people stood in growing fear as the same black smoke formed high in the sky.
Almost the entire North Sea was now shrouded in swirling darkness—both in the troposphere above and on the surface of the ocean itself.
[Middle of North Sea 3rd POV]
A yacht drifted quietly in the middle of the sea. A man woke up in bed, disturbed by the strange silence.
Rising from his chambers, he stepped out into the open deck. It was clear a party had taken place—or was still ongoing. People were sprawled everywhere without a care in the world.
Some were fornicating in plain sight. Others sat watching and playing games. A few were still drinking, but most had already passed out, asleep where they fell.
The man walked through the scene, his eyes scanning the bodies, the empty bottles, the flickering lights. But something felt… off.
He moved toward the rail of the yacht, gripping it lightly as he looked up at the sky, deep in thought.
There was black smoke swirling in the sky—unnaturally high, hanging thick in the troposphere. And oddly, the moon was nowhere to be seen.
His gaze dropped to the sea, and he froze. The water wasn't clear—it, too, was being blanketed in dark, creeping smoke.
Then, far in the distance, something emerged through the haze—a massive ship, exuding thick plumes of black smoke.
He rushed back inside and grabbed a pair of binoculars.
Peering through them, he focused on the ship. There were words written across its hull, but he couldn't make out the entire name—just fragments of twisted, blackened letters lost in the smoke.
『π÷ק∆ ANNE'S REVENGE』
[TO-BE-CONTINUE]