In a city whose golden rays slipped through the morning fog as if trying to erase old memories, there was a young boy named Ryan, known for his childish smile and playful spirit that ran through the narrow alleys like a gentle summer breeze. Sara, the girl he had known since childhood, always accompanied him on his small adventures, exchanging laughter and sharing innocent dreams. They were only ten years old, and they were so close that their parents hoped they would one day marry and build a future filled with happiness and joy.
But life does not remain the same. Just as sunlight fades behind the fog, the day came when Ryan left the city. He did not leave for somewhere nearby, but for a distant and desolate world — a strange place that carried destinies no one could have imagined for him. His departure was not merely a change of location, but the beginning of a new chapter in his life — a chapter that would carry darkness and coldness instead of laughter and playfulness.
Fifteen years passed. The amusing boy who once ran through narrow alleys became a man with a dark reputation, known as "Shadow Walker." His name became a legend before anyone truly heard it. His title echoed through police corridors like a living nightmare; no one knew his true face, nor where he came from, yet he left his mark wherever he went. His method was unmatched — cold, cunning, and astonishingly ruthless. His new name spread across continents.
The police had been searching for him for years, yet he vanished as though he were nothing but a mirage. He left behind no evidence linking him to his crimes except his mental signature: unexpected intelligence, meticulously executed crimes, perfect timing — as if someone predicted their movements before they made them. Anyone who attempted to get close to him, even the greatest investigators, found themselves trapped in a maze of deception and danger, emerging psychologically shattered long before ever catching him.
What made him even more terrifying was that he appeared only when necessary, at the moment you least expected — then disappeared as if he had never existed. Every horror story and crime whispered about him in the city was given a mythical touch by the press, turning his deeds into urban legends rather than real crimes.
He was not merely a criminal, but the embodiment of shadows themselves: his presence unseen, yet felt; his silence longer than any sound, his mind faster than any plan. And when anyone heard his name, even from afar, a chill ran down their spine… because somehow, they knew the shadow was always watching.
As the years passed, he returned to the city he once knew — but he was no longer the amusing boy who had left fifteen years ago. The city had changed, and so had he. Innocent laughter no longer filled the alleys, nor were childish games present. He returned as a shadow, as a dark force — but also to the place that had shaped his childhood, to the place where his laughter and secrets once hid.
I am Ryan, "Shadow Walker," and this is my story.
After every crime I committed, every person I killed in cold blood, I felt nothing. There was no fear, no regret, no trace of mercy within me. I had to return to my city… the police had come closer to me than ever before, and with every step they took, I felt the danger narrowing the distance. I had no choice but to return — not because I was afraid, but because the city was the only place where I could disappear, where I could test my true power. I returned to the city whose every corner I knew, every narrow alley, every long shadow beneath the streetlights. I was no longer the amusing boy who had left fifteen years ago; I was the shadow itself, watching everyone without mercy. I did not return to ask for anything, nor to reclaim anything — but to prove that the city had not changed in my absence, and that my true authority was not merely a name whispered in accusation, but the fear that dwells in hearts when they hear my approaching footsteps.
I returned to the city in my car, the engine's sound filling the night's silence like an omen, streetlights flickering across the old buildings as if they were watching my steps. As I drove through the alleys I had known since childhood, my eyes fell upon the place where I once played, upon the sand that still carried the imprint of my small footsteps. Childhood memories slipped into me, stirring a strange feeling in my chest — a mixture of nostalgia and the cold that wraps around my soul.
Suddenly, an unexpected step appeared before me, and the car struck someone. The collision was not strong — I had been more lost in memories of the city than attentive to the road.
I stepped out of the car slowly — not out of concern for the one I had hit, but to move them away from the front of the vehicle. Every movement was calculated, every step confirming that I was no longer the amusing boy, but a shadow walking between the alleys. I moved closer, my eyes observing everything — yet nothing reminded me of our childhood except that look… the look that knew everything about me, about us, about the past.
Then a strange shiver ran through me. My heart beat faster than usual. I was about to collide — not with the car, but with reality itself. How did she not recognize me? How could all those years erase my existence from her heart completely?
There was a heavy silence, as if the entire city were holding its breath, and I gently extended my hand, trying to steady the situation — while every part of me knew this encounter would change everything.
Her hand trembled slightly as she said:
"What… what are you doing?! Are you okay?"
I stared at her for a moment. I did not answer. I did not smile, nor did I attempt to appear friendly. My coldness was like ice in the middle of the night, and my heart was trying to process everything at once: the child I once knew, the girl I once loved, now standing before me as a symbol of the innocent life I had lost.
Then I said in a low, steady voice:
"Step away from my path."
She raised her hand cautiously, staring at my face with bright eyes, and said:
"Why don't you smile, mister?"
I gave a slight smile, unable to hide my surprise. Her voice, her movement, her playful spirit — they were exactly as they had been fifteen years ago, as if time had left no mark on her.
After a moment, as though nothing else mattered, she said:
"My name is Sara. And you?"
I whispered to myself:
"How have you not changed? And how have you not recognized me?"
I lifted my eyes to hers — a single cold glance like the city's shadows — and said quietly:
"Some things… are meant to remain unknown."
She burst into loud laughter, her voice echoing through the alleys as if the city itself were responding:
"Hahaha! You're so serious — like you're carrying the whole world on your shoulders! I think you need my help, and trust me, I won't leave you now. That's just who I am. Even if you try to run or walk away… you won't be able to."
Her words struck my heart like lightning, freezing everything for a moment. I no longer knew whether I wanted to hide in my shadows — or surrender to this past that had never truly died.