Chapter 3: The Emotionless Shadow
I didn't sleep much that night.
I stared at my phone screen, the message still glowing:
"Stay away from Elizabeth."
No name. No profile picture. No emotion behind the words.
Not even a trace of intention.
Most messages from people come with a kind of residual "color." Like if someone texts angrily, I can feel their anger. The emotion bar flickers faintly on the screen, even across text. Sadness, joy, fear — they linger like fingerprints.
But this…
This was empty.
Like the words weren't even meant to be understood.
Just to be seen.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to reply. Eventually, I typed:
"Who are you?"
No response.
Not then. Not the rest of the night.
Morning – Osyaka Academy
The sky was a washed-out gray, and the clouds hadn't lifted since yesterday. The air was heavy with moisture, and my uniform stuck uncomfortably to my skin.
I stepped into the classroom just as the bell rang, only to find Elizabeth already at her desk. She glanced up briefly, then looked away.
Her Love meter was pink and steady.
Her Guilt meter was flickering again.
And… her Sorrow was growing.
Something had happened.
And whatever it was — it wasn't because of me.
I slid into my seat beside her and whispered, "Rough morning?"
She didn't answer. But she didn't glare either.
Progress?
Mr. Rizal strolled in moments later with a stack of worksheets. "Pop quiz, everyone! Surprise!"
A wave of groans rippled through the class.
I didn't care much about quizzes. I was decent at academics. My ability, though strange, made group dynamics easy to understand. I knew when a teacher was stressed, when a classmate needed space, or when someone was bluffing during debates.
But today, my attention wasn't on the quiz. It was on Elizabeth.
She hadn't touched her pen.
Her Emotion Meters were stormy. Confused. Shaky.
I leaned slightly toward her and whispered, "Hey."
No reaction.
"Eliza—"
She turned abruptly toward me, eyes wide. For a second, I thought she might yell.
But instead, she whispered back, "Do you believe people can lose their emotions?"
That stunned me.
"Lose them…?" I repeated.
"I mean — like, just not feel anything anymore."
She wasn't talking about herself.
Her Guilt surged again.
Her Trust meter — it blinked, then settled into a cautious green.
I shook my head gently. "I don't think anyone really loses their emotions. They can bury them. Hide them. But they don't disappear."
Her expression faltered. Like she was both relieved and disappointed at the same time.
"Right…" she murmured. "That's what I thought, too."
Scene Break – After Class
As the final bell rang, Elizabeth stood up before I did.
"You're coming with me."
"Am I?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She was already halfway to the door, expecting me to follow.
I sighed and grabbed my bag.
We walked in silence, past the courtyard, through the back gate, and down the slope into the nearby neighborhood.
I was about to ask where we were going when she finally stopped — at a quiet, shuttered café. The sign read "Iris & Ash: Closed for Renovation."
Elizabeth pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the side entrance.
"This was my mother's place," she said. "We haven't opened since she…"
She didn't finish.
Her Sorrow bar pulsed quietly.
I followed her inside.
It was dusty but beautiful. Wooden floors, ivy crawling along the windows, and mismatched chairs that somehow made the place feel warmer.
This place had stories.
She led me to a table in the corner and sat down. "Claire. I brought you here because I want to show you something. But you have to promise not to freak out."
"I don't freak out easily," I said.
She bit her lip, clearly debating something. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out an old photograph.
Three people:
A younger Elizabeth — maybe 10 years old.
A woman who must be her mother.
And a boy.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was him.
The boy I'd seen outside the school.
Same sharp eyes. Same dark hair.
"You've seen him before, haven't you?" she asked quietly.
I nodded. "He was watching us. Twice. No emotions at all."
Elizabeth's hands trembled slightly. Her meters lit up like fireworks — Fear, Hope, Pain.
"He's my brother," she said.
"He went missing two years ago. Just vanished. No notes. No clues. Nothing."
She pointed at the photo. "His name is Leon. He used to be... gentle. Protective. He'd walk me home every day, even when I told him not to."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. But it didn't last.
"One day, he just… stopped coming home. And when I saw him again — once, only once — it was outside this very café. He looked right at me… and there was nothing in his eyes. Nothing. No recognition. No feeling."
Her eyes locked onto mine. "And now, you're saying you saw him too. With no emotions. Just... static?"
"Yes," I whispered. "And last night, I got a message from an unknown number. It said: 'Stay away from Elizabeth.' I think it was him."
Her shoulders slumped. "I was afraid of that."
"What happened to him, Elizabeth?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. But ever since he disappeared, strange things started happening. People avoiding me. Whispers. Rumors. Some students even said I cursed him."
I realized now why her classmates feared her. Why her Sorrow meter had always been burning under everything else.
She wasn't just dealing with grief.
She was carrying blame.
"They think I'm dangerous," she said, her voice barely audible.
I met her eyes.
"I don't."
Her meters shifted — slowly, hesitantly — toward Trust.
"I want to help you," I said. "If your brother's still out there, and he's somehow... lost his emotions — then maybe we can bring him back."
Elizabeth didn't reply right away.
But then, she stood up. Walked over to a nearby drawer and pulled something out. A small, silver pendant — oval, with an iris flower engraved on it.
"He dropped this the day he disappeared," she said. "I've kept it ever since."
I stepped closer and reached out.
The second my fingers brushed the pendant, my heart skipped a beat.
A faint, flickering Emotion Meter sparked into existence — hovering near the pendant like a ghost.
It was grey, but not static.
It was moving.
"Wait," I breathed. "This pendant… it's holding something."
Elizabeth stared. "What do you mean?"
"I think… it's a memory."
That Night – My Room
Back in bed, I stared at the pendant Elizabeth let me borrow.
I held it in my palm.
And again, I saw it — that faint grey meter. It didn't feel alive. But it wasn't dead either.
A sliver of a soul? A piece of what Leon once was?
I didn't know.
But as I closed my eyes, I could hear something.
A whisper.
Not from the room. Not from the phone.
From within the pendant itself.
"…Claire…"
I sat up, heart racing.
"Help… her…"