The fear Mayon carried was not of ghosts
or darkness, but of being a zero. At sixteen, her life was a carefully constructed exercise in non-presence—the student whose hand was perpetually skipped, the figure whose words dissolved mid-air. She was the girl who could never take her own side, convinced that her voice was unworthy of being heard.
Mayon possessed a fierce, almost unbearable self-respect, yet she could never take a stand for herself. Instead, she chose silence. When faced with cruelty or misunderstanding, she would only smile and internalize the blame of others, believing that maintaining her quiet dignity was worth the pain. This choice, fueled by her deep pride, always led to the same result: she ended up getting hurt, trolled, and used, confirming her status as the school's most willing invisible sacrifice.
She had read countless fantasy novels where ordinary protagonists stumbled upon powerful magic, but never in her wildest imagination did she believe such an anomaly would appear in her own dull life.
Yet, there it was: a heavy, black leather diary that smelled faintly of salt and old parchment. It sat on her desk, a silent, imposing anomaly that defied logic. When her hand first brushed its cover, a spark of energy—cold and insistent—jolted through her.
The moment she wrote her first timid thought upon its page, a voice answered. Not a memory, not a reflection, but a distinct, sharp presence that called itself Shadow.
Slowly, Mayon began to depend on this creature of ink. With Shadow's guidance, she gained the courage to approach her peers, to defend the silent girl, and to attempt the difficult act of forming new friendships. Shadow was everything Mayon was not: confident, judgmental, strangely omniscient, and terrifyingly real.
But as her dependence grew, so did her curiosity. Was Shadow truly a magical man or woman sent to guide her, as in her books? Or was it just a normal person, a writer with a similar diary, bound by the same rules? This profound question, one she could never directly ask due to the strict rules of the bond, became her secret obsession.
Mayon clung to this new reality. Shadow became her sunlight, her guide, and her secret shield against the crushing weight of her solitude. But the light cast by Shadow was fragile, bound by strict and unforgiving rules. She soon learned that the diary was not merely a comfort but a volatile, ancient bond.
To break the rules was to risk not just her solitude, but her safety. The consequences were not emotional; they were swift, physical, and marked by a searing pain that promised destruction.
The quiet girl who wished to be noticed had unknowingly entered a dangerous game where the price of courage might be her self-worth, and the cost of discovery might be her soul.