The apartment was quiet after dinner. Too quiet.
Bell had fallen asleep almost as soon as she finished eating, curled up on the couch like a child who had played too much that day. I carried her gently to her bed, tucking her in as if routine could shield us both from the madness creeping into my life.
But when I closed the bedroom door and turned toward my study—she was already there.
Aisha.
Sitting on my desk like a cat perched on a throne, violet eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.
"…You again," I muttered, fatigue sharpening into irritation.
She smiled, voice syrupy sweet. "That's no proper greeting for someone bringing you wisdom."
"I don't need your wisdom," I snapped. "All you ever do is twist my life into nonsense."
Her laugh was soft, teasing. "Nonsense? White, I only speak the truth. And you know it. Everything I've said has unfolded, hasn't it?"
I clenched my fists. She wasn't wrong.
"The price you mentioned," I said at last. "What do you mean by that? Bell has never demanded anything from me!"
Aisha leaned forward, her voice lowering into something almost intimate. "Because it's not Bell who takes the payment. It's the world itself. Wishes are unnatural… reality claws back balance. Something always tips when you tilt fate."
Her words chilled me—before she held up something in her pale hands.
I froze. "…That's—"
Bell's missing drawing.
The one she had cried over, the one that vanished. Now in Aisha's hands, perfectly intact.
The paper shook in my fingers as I grabbed it. The rooftop. The shadow of the building. The girl mid-fall.
"…Why do you keep showing me this?" My voice broke, half anger, half fear. "This isn't art—it's a death sentence!"
But Aisha only giggled softly, her body beginning to dissolve like mist. "Then stop it if you can. But remember, White… every miracle demands its curse. The price… cannot be avoided."
And with that, she was gone again—leaving only the drawing in my trembling hands.
The next morning, Bell's bed was empty. No note. No sign. Just silence.
I pressed my palm to the sheets—cold. She had vanished again. Aisha had taken her. I told myself she'd return like last time… but unease clung to me like a second skin.
Still, I had to force myself to school. My test. The only shred of "normalcy" left.
But the moment I stepped through the classroom door, something inside me faltered.
Shu's seat was empty.
She was always the first one here. Always. Yet now—gone.
I fidgeted through the test, unable to focus, my eyes drifting to her seat again and again. Each time, the emptiness mocked me.
Day one. Day two. Day three.
Her seat never filled.
Rumors buzzed between classmates. Someone said the teacher had tried calling her parents, but no one answered. Another whispered that Shu had locked herself in at home.
But I knew better. I remembered Aisha's words. I remembered the drawing.
My chest grew heavier with each passing day. Is this the price? Is it her life?
On the fourth morning, when the bell rang, the classroom door creaked open.
Shu walked in.
But she wasn't the same.
She kept her head low, her black hair curtaining her face. Her shoulders hunched, her footsteps mechanical. And her eyes… those eyes once sharp and strong… were dull, empty, like glass that had lost its shine.
Even the teacher hesitated before letting her in, but she gave no explanation, no excuse. Just silence.
That silence spread across the classroom like a suffocating fog. Everyone felt it. No one dared to speak to her.
When lunch came, Shu stood abruptly and walked out of the class without a word.
Something inside me snapped. I pushed to my feet.
"Hey, White," Zen called as I grabbed my bag. "Can I see your notebook? I want to—"
"Later!" I muttered, shoving a book into his hands at random before rushing out.
Zen seeing notebook " what the....."
Halfway up the stairs, my breath caught. I realized what I had given him wasn't my homework notebook.
It was Bell's sketchbook.
And on the page I had left bookmarked—her cursed drawing. The rooftop. The shadow. The girl falling.
…Shu.
My legs moved faster than my thoughts.
The rooftop gate screeched open. The wind howled against my skin.
And there she was.
Shu stood at the edge, her skirt fluttering, her figure silhouetted like the drawing.
"…No. No no no…" I ran.
Her toes tipped forward. Her body leaned out.
"Shu!"
I lunged, grabbing her hand just as her weight carried her off. My arm nearly snapped from the force, but I pulled with everything I had.
We crashed back onto the rooftop floor, the echo swallowed by the howling wind.
"Haa… haa…" I gasped for air, clutching her trembling wrist. "What the hell are you doing?!"
She turned to me slowly. Her eyes were hollow, sunken pits. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"…Why save me?"
The emptiness in her eyes was worse than any wound.
"Because…" I swallowed hard, forcing a shaky grin. "…You still owe me money."
Her lips parted, stunned.
"You said you'd repay me for those groceries. I can't let you die before I collect. And besides…" I tightened my hold on her shoulders. "…because I'm your friend. So please—if something's breaking you, don't carry it alone. Tell me."
For the first time, her mask shattered.
Her lips quivered. Her body trembled. And then tears spilled freely as her voice broke.
"I… I was so tired. I didn't want to fight anymore…!"
"It's alright," I whispered, pulling her into my arms. "You don't have to say it now. You're not alone anymore."
She clutched me like a drowning person grabbing onto the last lifeboat.
After a while, her sobs dulled into quiet breaths, exhaustion dragging her down. I guided her to the infirmary, where she finally fell into a deep, troubled sleep.
I stepped out quietly, drawing a deep breath of the cold hallway air. Relief warred with dread inside my chest. I saved her. I stopped it.
But then—my phone buzzed.
I pulled it out—an unknown number. Not a call. A message.
"The price has been paid. Balance restored. – A"
The phone slipped from my grasp, shattering against the tiles as the world tilted violently beneath me.
"…The price…"
My heart froze as the image of Shu's tear-streaked face burned in my mind.
She wasn't the price. She was just the beginning.