Caleb Sultan was… ordinary.
Nineteen years old.
No parents.
One friend.
One job.
A small apartment that always smelled faintly of detergent and instant noodles. A life that moved in straight lines—wake up, work, eat, sleep.
Nothing about him stood out.
At least… not yet.
---
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
A loud alarm shattered the silence of the room.
A hand shot out from beneath a thin blanket—smack!—and silenced it instantly.
"…five more minutes…" a tired voice mumbled.
Silence returned.
Then—
A pause.
"…nah."
Caleb pushed himself up with a sigh, running a hand through his messy black hair. His blue eyes blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim morning light sneaking through the curtains.
His apartment wasn't much. A single bed, a small table, a fridge that hummed louder than it should, and walls that had seen better days. But it was his.
He swung his legs off the bed and stretched, joints cracking softly.
"Another day…"
---
The bathroom mirror reflected a young man who looked older than he should.
Short black hair.
Sharp blue eyes.
And a faint scar at the bottom right of his face—barely noticeable, but always there.
A reminder of something.
Even he wasn't sure what.
Water splashed against his face as he washed up, then stepped into the shower. Steam filled the small room, blurring the mirror and everything else with it.
For a moment, the world felt quiet.
Simple.
Normal.
---
Minutes later, Caleb stepped out, dressed in his usual outfit:
Black baggy trousers, held with a worn belt.
A blue hoodie.
Nothing flashy. Nothing memorable.
He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped outside.
---
The city was already awake.
Vendors shouted over each other. Cars honked like they were arguing. The smell of fried food mixed with dust and heat.
Life was loud.
Caleb walked through it all like he always did—calm, observant, unnoticed.
Until he stopped.
A tomato stall.
He stared at the bright red pile for a moment before speaking.
"How much for your tomatoes?"
The shopkeeper glanced at him. "100."
Caleb's expression didn't change.
But inside—
100?
Is this guy serious?
I bought the same thing for 50 last week.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Across from him, the shopkeeper swallowed.
For some reason… he felt nervous.
Sweat formed on his forehead.
Caleb just stood there, silent.
Thinking.
The tomatoes are slightly soft… not fresh enough.
He's trying to push them before they spoil.
Which means…
Caleb finally spoke.
"I'll take it for 50."
The shopkeeper blinked. "What? No way! That's half the price!"
Caleb shrugged lightly. "Alright then."
He turned.
Took one step.
"Wait!" the man called quickly. "I can do 90!"
Caleb turned back, calm as ever.
"45."
"What?!"
"Take it or I leave."
"80! Final price!"
Caleb didn't even hesitate.
"40."
The shopkeeper stared at him like he'd just been attacked.
A long pause.
Then—
"…fine. Take it."
Caleb handed over the money without a word.
Inside his mind, a quiet satisfaction echoed.
No one scams me.
---
After picking up a few more things, he returned home briefly, dropped them off, then headed out again.
This time, to work.
---
A small café stood at the corner of a relatively quiet street.
A simple sign read:
"The Best Café"
It wasn't the best.
Not even close.
But it was enough.
---
Caleb stepped inside and tied his apron.
"You're late again," a voice said.
An older man sat near the kitchen, reading a newspaper without looking up.
"Sorry," Caleb replied casually. "Got busy."
"Don't worry," the man muttered. "No customers anyway."
As if summoned by those words—
The door opened.
A bell chimed softly.
Someone walked in.
Caleb glanced over, then smiled faintly.
"First customer," he said. "I'll take it."
---
Time passed.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Customers trickled in, one after another. Orders were taken. Drinks were served. Plates clinked. Conversations filled the air.
Caleb moved smoothly through it all.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Just efficient.
Like he'd done this a thousand times.
---
Then—
The door opened again.
This time, something felt… different.
A boy stepped in.
Yellow hair.
Brown eyes.
A strange but stylish outfit—buttoned striped shirt, long sleeves, jeans, sneakers.
He carried himself with energy, like he didn't belong to boring places.
Caleb's eyes lit up slightly.
"Yo, Lucas."
The boy grinned. "Hey."
He raised two bags and two drinks like trophies.
"I brought lunch."
From the kitchen, the boss waved a hand.
"Take your break."
Caleb didn't argue.
---
Moments later, the two sat in the kitchen.
Caleb unwrapped the burger and took a bite.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…this is good."
Lucas smirked. "Of course it is. It's from McDaniels."
Caleb nodded in approval, already halfway through it.
For a moment, everything felt normal again.
Just two friends. Eating. Talking.
Living.
---
Then Lucas leaned forward.
"Caleb… I've got something."
Caleb didn't look up. "This again?"
"No, seriously. This one's different."
Caleb sighed. "You always say that."
Lucas grinned wider.
"But this time… it's real."
Caleb finally looked at him.
Lucas's eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Think about it," he said. "A job… but not just any job."
He leaned in closer.
"…a superhero job."
Caleb blinked.
"…superhero?"
Lucas nodded.
"What are you talking about?"
Lucas opened his mouth to answer—
"—they're called the An—"
The kitchen door burst open.
"Break's over."
The boss didn't even look at them as he spoke, already turning away.
Lucas clicked his tongue, annoyed, then took a long sip of his drink. "Man… talk about bad timing."
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "So?"
Lucas stood, stretching. "I'll tell you tomorrow."
"You always say that."
Lucas grinned, backing toward the exit. "And this time, I actually mean it."
He waved casually. "Later."
"Yeah… later."
The door closed behind him.
Silence settled in for a moment.
Caleb stared at the half-finished burger in his hand, then muttered under his breath:
"Superhero job…?"
He shook his head.
"Whatever."
---
The rest of the shift dragged on.
The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in deep orange and fading gold. Shadows stretched longer, crawling across the streets like they were alive.
Night was coming.
---
The bell above the café door chimed.
Caleb glanced up.
The last customer.
Something about him felt… off.
The man walked in slowly, shoulders tense, eyes darting around like something was chasing him.
Weird…
Caleb watched him carefully.
The man sat down, gripping something tightly—a strange chest box, dark and old-looking, like it didn't belong in this world.
Caleb stepped forward.
"What can I help you with?"
The man flinched.
"A— a— a coffee…!" he stammered. "Strong… yes, strong coffee!"
His hands trembled.
His voice shook.
Like he was holding himself together by threads.
Caleb narrowed his eyes slightly.
This guy is strange…
"Alright. One strong coffee."
---
Moments later, Caleb returned and placed the cup in front of him.
"Your coffee, sir."
The man didn't respond at first.
Then suddenly—
He grabbed the cup and drank it in one go.
No pause.
No breath.
Just—gone.
Caleb blinked.
"…okay."
Yeah. Definitely weird.
The man slowly lowered the empty cup, breathing heavily.
Then he looked at Caleb.
"…the bill."
"That'll be 150."
The man nodded, reaching into his pocket.
Then—
He placed two large pieces of gold on the table.
Caleb froze.
"…wait."
Gold?
Real gold?
The man spoke calmly now, like nothing was wrong.
"One for the coffee… and one as a tip."
Caleb stared at it.
His mind raced.
Is this real?
Is this guy crazy?
"…uh, thank you, sir," Caleb said carefully. "But I need to confirm something first."
Could be fake.
He picked one up and headed to the back.
---
"Boss."
The man looked up from his paper. "What?"
"Do we… take gold?"
"…what?"
Caleb placed it in his hand.
The boss examined it.
Turned it.
Tapped it.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
"…this is real."
Caleb blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yeah." The boss looked toward the front. "Hope that guy didn't steal it or something."
He shrugged. "Whatever. We're taking it."
---
Caleb nodded and returned to the front.
"Sir, we'll take your—"
He stopped.
The seat was empty.
The cup still sat there.
The gold remained.
But the man—
Gone.
"…what?"
Caleb looked around.
No door sound.
No footsteps.
Nothing.
Just… gone.
A strange chill crept down his spine.
---
He exhaled slowly.
"…I'm going home."
From the back, the boss waved lazily. "Yeah, yeah. Lock up."
Caleb untied his apron and set it aside.
As he turned to leave—
His eyes fell on the table.
The chest box.
The man had forgotten it.
Caleb hesitated.
"…seriously?"
He picked it up.
It felt… heavy.
Not just physically.
Something about it felt wrong.
Still—
"If I see him outside, I'll give it back."
---
The night air hit him as he stepped outside.
Cool.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
---
Then—
Noise.
Panic.
People were running.
Not walking.
Not rushing.
Running.
Away from something.
"What's going on…?" Caleb muttered.
His heart began to beat faster.
This isn't normal.
Someone shoved past him.
"Run!" they shouted.
Caleb turned.
For a second—
He thought about running too.
Then—
A shadow flashed past him.
Fast.
Too fast.
Before he could react—
It appeared in front of him.
Caleb froze.
His eyes widened.
"…a demon."
---
It stood there.
Tall.
Wrong.
Its body looked like a horse—
No.
Not a horse.
Something twisted.
It stood upright like a human.
Its neck bent backward unnaturally, like a broken hinge.
From inside that hollow neck—
Another head emerged.
Red eyes glowing.
Watching him.
Smiling.
"Hello there… human."
Caleb's breath caught.
His grip tightened on the chest box.
His mind screamed one thing:
Run.
But his body—
Didn't move.
"…oh crap."
---
To be continued….....