Scene: A room. No windows. No doors. Just silence.]
It was cold.
Not the kind you feel on your skin — but the kind that starts from somewhere deep inside your bones.
His eyes were open… or maybe they had been open for a long time.
He couldn't tell anymore.
[Ashe sat against the wall, arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes were swollen, quietly staring.]
There was nothing in front of him…
except a typewriter.
An old one — the kind that clacked like a dying clock:
chik… chik… chik.
Time passed.
One moment.
Then another.
And then another.
It didn't matter anymore.
He closed his eyes.
And right then — the typewriter pressed a key.
Chik.
[His eyes shot open. A slight shiver ran through him.]
Ashe (soft, confused):
"Who… did that?"
[He stood up slowly, leaning against the wall. His legs felt weak, almost unfamiliar.]
He approached the typewriter, bending down cautiously.
The paper had something written on it.
> "Do you want to stay alive? Then start writing."
[He turned around. Same four walls. Same silence. No door. No window. No sound.]
Just the machine.
And one mirror in the corner — so faded, nothing reflected clearly.
Ashe (nervous chuckle):
"Write? What am I even supposed to write? I don't… I don't even remember my name."
His throat felt dry.
His eyes burned like he'd been crying all night — but he couldn't remember why.
[He sat in front of the typewriter. Not too close, just enough.
But his eyes stayed locked on the keys.]
And then — another key pressed itself.
Chik.
> "Write your first lie."
Ashe (quietly, a bit tired):
"I… I don't lie."
[His hand lifted, without his will.
As if someone else was moving it.]
The first word was typed:
> "I remember who I am."
[Suddenly, the typewriter clacked violently — rapid fire: chikchikchikchik—]
[He tried to back away — but the chair wouldn't let him.
Some invisible weight pinned him.]
[In the mirror — a faint reflection appeared.
Blurry. Faceless.]
Ashe (frustrated, breaking):
"I'm not lying… I swear I just don't remember—"
The typewriter clicked again:
> "Then what's the truth?"
[His breathing turned sharp. He shut his eyes.]
[FLASH — A child's voice.
Someone saying:
"Ashe… you'll come back, right?"
But no reply ever came.]
Ashe (tears building, eyes still closed):
"Did I… ever come back?
Or maybe… maybe I never left."
[Then — a voice. A cold, dry whisper.
Not from the room.
From inside the typewriter.]
Ira (female voice, emotionless):
"You wrote a lie, Ashe.
And lies demand punishment."
[Suddenly — a burning pain in his right hand.
As if someone had pressed a lit cigarette into his skin.]
Ashe (screaming):
"Aaah—!!"
[He collapsed from the chair, clutching his hand, tears leaking from his eyes.]
[He looked toward the mirror.
There, in the foggy glass — the silhouette of a girl.
No face. No eyes.
But it felt like… she was watching.
Only him.]
Noira (from the mirror, softly):
"Why did you come back, Ashe?"
Ashe (barely whispering, lost and exhausted):
"Maybe… I never left."
---
END OF CHAPTER 1 – PART 1