They searched the grounds until midnight.
Flashlights swept across wet grass and the sides of old buildings. Caretakers spoke in low, irritated voices, annoyed more than alarmed. They found nothing unusual—no damage, no intruders, no reason to escalate what they called "a disturbance."
Kaito and Jun stood side by side the entire time.
Too close.
Every time someone asked a question, Jun answered first. He kept his tone casual, almost bored.
— Heard a noise.— Thought something fell over.— Probably an animal.
No one contradicted him.
Eventually, they were sent back inside.
The orphanage returned to its usual rhythm with unsettling speed, as if the night hadn't bent around something that shouldn't exist.
That disturbed Kaito more than the thing itself.
In the dormitory, the lights were dimmed early.
Kaito lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with his right eye, his left side pressed into the pillow. His hand rested on his chest, fingers twitching faintly.
The mark was gone.
He had checked at least ten times.
No broken circle.No fractured line.
Just skin.
And yet, he could still feel it.
Not like a scar.
Like a memory his body hadn't let go of.
Every time he closed his eye, he saw it again—not clearly, not fully—but enough to make his chest tighten.
The thing dissolving.The silence afterward.Jun's face when the mark appeared.
— You awake? Jun whispered from the bed beside him.
Kaito hesitated.
— …Yeah.
Jun shifted, lowering his voice further.
— That thing.— That wasn't normal.
Kaito swallowed.
— I know.
Silence stretched between them.
— You stopped it, Jun continued.— It was about to—He cut himself off, jaw tightening.
— You didn't even touch it.
Kaito turned his head slightly, just enough to see Jun out of the corner of his eye.
— I didn't mean to, he said.
Jun let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
— That's worse.
The next morning, Kaito woke with a headache that felt too sharp for a normal night's sleep.
The pressure behind his left eye was still there—but different.
Less chaotic.
Like something had settled after being disturbed.
During breakfast, he noticed small things he hadn't before.
A cup sliding just a little too far before stopping.A spoon vibrating faintly before going still.The sound of voices dipping for half a second when he lost focus.
No one else reacted.
Jun noticed.
— You're doing it again, he muttered without looking at him.
— Doing what?
Jun glanced at Kaito's hand, then quickly away.
— Making things weird.
Kaito didn't respond.
Because he didn't know how to argue with that.
They were sent to clean the west corridor after lunch.
It was an old part of the building—narrow, poorly lit, rarely used. Water stains marked the walls, and the air smelled faintly of rust and dust.
Jun walked a few steps ahead.
— You know they're not going to forget last night, right? he said.
— They already did, Kaito replied.
Jun stopped.
— That's what bothers me.
Kaito's steps slowed.
— What do you mean?
Jun turned to face him, expression tight.
— If I saw something like that…— If anyone saw something like that…He gestured vaguely behind them.
— This place wouldn't just shrug it off.
The pressure behind Kaito's eye pulsed once.
— Maybe they didn't see it, Kaito said.
Jun stared at him.
— I did.
The words landed heavier than expected.
Jun looked away first.
— I don't know what you are, he said quietly.— Or what that thing was.— But I know one thing.
Kaito waited.
— That wasn't the first time something like that showed up here.
Kaito's heart skipped.
— What?
Jun hesitated, then shook his head.
— Forget it.— Doesn't matter.
But it did.
Kaito felt it.
That night, the dream returned—but it didn't show destruction.
It showed repetition.
Kaito stood in the same yard, under the same dim lights. The shed was intact. The fence leaned inward. Everything was exactly as it should be.
Except for the ground.
Faint cracks ran beneath his feet, barely visible. They pulsed slowly, like veins under skin.
Someone stood beside him.
Jun.
Older again.
Tired.
— You can't keep fixing things like this, Jun said.
— I didn't fix anything, Kaito replied.
Jun smiled sadly.
— That's what you said last time too.
The cracks spread.
Kaito felt the familiar heat behind his left eye, stronger now—but controlled.
— What happens if I don't stop it? Kaito asked.
Jun didn't answer right away.
— Then the world notices, he said finally.— And it doesn't like being corrected.
Kaito opened his mouth to ask more—
And woke up.
He sat up slowly, breath steady.
The room was quiet.
Normal.
Too normal.
Kaito flexed his fingers.
For a brief moment, just before the sensation faded, he felt it again—
That invisible resistance.
As if something around him was holding its breath.
Waiting to see what he would do next.