After classes, I headed straight home.
Today was my day off, finally — no shift at the restaurant.
Still, my mind kept circling back to that moment.
The tall man.
No face. Just a blur.
Pointing… but at what?
I shook my head as if that could push the thought away.
As I turned the corner onto a quieter street, I noticed a small figure near a wall.
A stray cat—thin, dirty, and still.
It didn't run when I approached. Just stared up at me with tired yellow eyes.
I paused.
Without thinking, I opened my bag and took out the half-eaten lunch I hadn't touched much in class.
I crouched down and set it near him.
"Here," I said softly. "You look hungrier than I feel."
He sniffed it cautiously, then began to eat — slow at first, then faster.
His ribs stuck out through his fur. It looked like he hadn't eaten in days.
I sat there for a moment, watching him.
The street was quiet.
Even peaceful.
But still… that image of the faceless man lingered somewhere in the back of my mind, like a dream that refuses to fade completely.
After the cat finished eating, I stood up and continued on my way home.
I was too tired to think much.
When I reached home, I barely said a word — just offered a weak smile and went straight to my room.
I dropped onto the bed without even changing clothes.
Sleep came quickly.
And so did the dream.
I was standing in a long, empty corridor.
Dim lights flickered above. The air felt heavy, like I was underwater.
At the far end, there he was again —
Tall. Still. His face… blurred, like smoke over a mirror.
He didn't move. Just stared.
Then, slowly, he raised his hand and pointed.
Same as before.
Only this time, there was something behind him.
A door—barely visible in the dark.
Faint light leaked through the edges, flickering like candlelight.
I tried to move closer, to see it clearly.
But the hallway stretched further, like it was pulling away from me.
Just as I leaned forward to look—
the dream snapped.
I woke up, staring at the ceiling.
My heart wasn't racing. My body wasn't sweating.
But the feeling lingered.
Like I'd missed something.
Like I wasn't supposed to wake up just yet.
I woke up with a sigh.
The room was quiet.
Morning light spilled through the window, soft and dull.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
The dream still clung to the edges of my mind — blurry, unfinished.
That faceless man… that door… the way he kept pointing.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up slowly.
The air felt still, like the room hadn't moved while I slept.
Just a dream, I told myself.
But it didn't feel like one.
Not really.
"My head's hurting… I think I'll skip school today," I muttered, pressing my fingers against my temple.
A few hours later, I showed up at the restaurant.
"Oh? You're early today. What's up?" Manager Han asked, surprised to see me.
"Headache. I skipped school."
He frowned. "Then you should've rested. Stayed at home."
"It's okay now," I said, brushing it off. "Honestly, I was getting bored just lying around."
He gave a half-smile and nodded. "Alright then. Go get changed."
I went to the back, slipped into my uniform, and got to work. The motions helped — kept my thoughts quiet, at least for a while.
Around 7 p.m., just as the lights inside started to feel warmer against the cooling evening, he walked in.
The tall man.
Same color coat, long and heavy — though this time the style looked slightly different. Sharper. More fitted.
He walked past the empty tables without a glance and took his usual seat in the far corner.
It had been a while since he last showed up.
I hesitated for a moment, then walked over to take his order.
As I got closer, I noticed something — this time, he wasn't wearing the hoodie that usually shadowed half his face.
I leaned in slightly, curious.
His skin looked almost too pale — like untouched porcelain.
His eyes were deep, black, still.
And his lips had that strange color… like a frozen rose.
He gave off a strange calm, like the air around him didn't quite belong here.
I was still caught in that thought when he looked up.
"Hey, miss," he said softly.
His voice was low, quiet, but it pulled me back like a thread.
His eyes locked with mine — and for a second, it felt like he was looking through me.
Not at my face.
But at something inside.
I blinked.
"Y-Yes… Do you want to order something now?"
He gave a faint smile.
"Hmm… yeah. Cold coffee," he said, "with extra ice, please."
"Okay… I'll get it right away."
I turned away and headed to the counter, still feeling the weight of his gaze on my back.
Cold coffee with extra ice.
Simple order.
But somehow, it didn't feel simple coming from him.
As I returned with his drink, he was sitting perfectly still, the notebook closed in front of him.
He didn't look up this time. Just nodded slightly as I placed the cup on the table.
"Let me know if you need anything else," I said.
No response. Just silence.
I walked away, but something about the moment stuck.
When I glanced back a few minutes later, he hadn't touched the coffee.
He was just sitting there, eyes lowered, hand resting on the notebook like he was waiting for something.
Later, when I passed by his table again, the cup was still untouched.
But now, the notebook is gone.
In its place, a folded napkin sat under the empty glass.
I checked around — he was gone.
No sound. No footsteps. Just… gone.
I glanced around once more before picking up the napkin.
Four words were written in sharp, uneven letters:
"Did you see it?"
My hand froze.
I looked toward the door.
But the street outside was empty.
I kept thinking about the note.
*Did you see it?*
What was I supposed to see?
Why did it feel like this all tied back to the dreams somehow?
I folded the napkin and slipped it into my pocket, trying to shake the unease.
But it stayed with me.
After the shift ended, I headed home. The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that made every sound feel louder than it should.
I pulled the note out again, reading it under the streetlamp's pale light.
The handwriting… shaky, rushed. Almost like it was written in a hurry — or by someone who didn't want to be seen.
"What does he mean by that?" I whispered to myself.
That's when I heard it.
Someone called my name.
Soft. Almost like a breath.
"Arya."
I froze and looked around.
No one.
The road stretched out in both directions. Empty. Still.
I started walking again, faster this time.
The feeling… it came back — that sensation of being watched.
Not from in front. From behind.
But every time I turned to look, the street was just as empty as before.
A chill climbed up my spine. I didn't stop again.
I ran the last block to my house and slammed the gate shut behind me.
Only when I locked the door and leaned against it did I finally breathe out.
The silence of home never felt so comforting.
It's already been a week since it all started.
That man.
The dreams.
The notes — each one stranger than the last.
None of them made sense on their own.
Each message was short, disconnected from the others… as if someone was trying to tell me something, but couldn't speak clearly.
Or didn't want to.
I kept them all. Folded, tucked deep into a notebook I don't let anyone touch.
Still, the more I tried to ignore it, the heavier it felt.
Like whatever this was — it wasn't going to stop on its own.
I needed to talk to someone.
Someone who wouldn't laugh.
Nisha.
After classes, I kept waiting for the right moment to bring it up…
but every time I opened my mouth, something interrupted — a teacher, a group of classmates, or just me losing the nerve.
So instead, I asked casually,
"Hey… wanna come over this weekend?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You? Inviting someone over? What's the occasion?"
I smiled a little. "Nothing big. Just… thought it'd be nice. My grandma and Alex are visiting my uncle. They'll be gone for about a week."
She shrugged. "Sure. I'm free Saturday."
I nodded, pretending like it was nothing.
But in my chest, the tension hadn't moved.
I just hoped I could finally say it out loud when the time came.
At Arya's Home – Evenings
*Knock knock.*
I opened the door.
"Oh hey, Nisha. Welcome."
"Thanks for inviting me," she said, stepping in. "Smells nice in here."
"Make yourself at home," I said, trying to sound normal — though my voice came out a little flat.
She sat on the edge of the couch, watching me as I moved around, clearly picking up on something.
I took a breath.
"Nisha… actually, there's something I wanted to ask you. It might sound strange, but it's serious, so please… just listen."
Her expression shifted immediately — soft but focused.
"I see… okay. Whatever it is, I believe you. So just speak up."
I hesitated for a second, then sat down beside her.
"Lately… I haven't been able to sleep. I keep having these dreams. They're long, and confusing… and always feel too real. There's a man in them — tall, faceless, always pointing at something. And…"
I paused, lowering my voice.
"…someone's been stalking me. Leaving notes. Cryptic messages. It's been happening for a week now."
Nisha's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Arya, seriously? You should've told me sooner! Do you have any idea who's behind it?"
"Maybe…" I said slowly. "There's this man who comes to the restaurant sometimes. Not often. Just… occasionally. He's strange. Always alone. Barely speaks. He left the first note — I'm pretty sure it was him."
Nisha leaned in, brows furrowed. "What kind of notes? Like threats?"
"No… not threats. More like questions. Phrases. Like… someone trying to make me remember something I don't understand yet."
She went quiet for a moment.
"Do you still have them?"
I nodded. "I kept them all."
"Then show me. Now."
I walked over to my closet and pulled out a small box from the corner — the one where I'd kept all the notes.
"I've kept every single one he sent," I said, handing it to her.
"Here. Take a look."
Nisha opened the box and pulled out the folded papers, one by one.
"Oh wow… there's more than I expected." She glanced up at me. "Let me read them. Maybe we can spot some kind of pattern."
I sat beside her as she unfolded each note slowly.
The first one read:
"I'm your friend."
Then another:
"Someone is watching you."
Then:
"A hidden secret."
And another one, messier than the rest:
"Stalking"
She looked up at me, and the brow furrowed. "Yeah… you were right. These don't make much sense."
She shuffled them again, lips pressed into a thin line.
"But he keeps mentioning the same things — stalking, being watched, secrets. It's like he's either playing with your head…" she paused, looking serious,
"…or trying to give you a hint. Something he wants you to figure out."
I nodded slowly. "That's what I've been thinking too. But I don't know what. Or why me."
Nisha sat back, still holding the notes. "We need to find out who he really is. If he shows up again at the restaurant, you can't face him alone."
I was quiet for a moment, my eyes drifting to the last note in her hand.
Something about the way it was written… it didn't feel random.
"Maybe…" I whispered, "he's not trying to scare me. Maybe he's trying to warn me."
After we finished discussing the notes, Nisha and I had dinner in quiet agreement. We didn't talk much — the weight of everything hung in the air between us. Later, she went to sleep in the guest room.
I stayed awake longer, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The man…
The notes…
The way everything kept circling back to that same feeling.
Something unfinished. Something waiting.That's an excellent mix of mystery and eerie tension
At some point, I drifted off.