Simon's steps were slow and steady.
The afternoon light stretched behind him, long and thin across the dusty floor. Each footstep made a soft crunch, like the ground had been waiting too long for someone to walk through it.
The air carried a metallic bite.
Old machines lined the walls, some hidden under sheets, others stripped bare with their wires exposed like organs spilling out from the dead.
He kept moving.
Thin shafts of sunlight leaked through pinholes in the ceiling, dropping to the floor in narrow beams. The big window on his left was half-covered by a curtain, letting a dull glow slip into the room.
A gust of wind slipped through the broken glass.
The curtain flapped once. Like a man trapped in a cage trying to escape.
Simon steps came to halt.
The air shifted around him. Colder here.
Tick.
A sound he almost felt more than heard.
His hand brushed instinctively toward his pocket, even though he already knew the truth. The watch inside was dead. It had been dead for hours. The ticking was only his memory trying to remind him of something he kept pushing down.
Cling.
A soft metal sound echoed through the room.
On the other side, a shadow stretched across the floor, lengthening, sharpening, slowly forming into a figure.
The ghost has appeared.
Black clothes.Medium-long hair tied loosely in a ponytail, a few strands falling across his temples.
He lifted his gaze. Lips curling up in a faint smirk.
"So, how are you doing, my friend?" His tone held amusement.
Simon didn't answer.
He simply watched. Every movement. Every detail.The ghost looked exactly the same as the last time Simon had seen him. Same height. Same posture. Same quiet confidence carved into every line of his body.
Same voice.
"Don't be so cold, man."The ghost lifted the gun in his right hand, scratching his temple with the barrel like it was nothing more than a pen.
"How long has it been, huh? Since we last saw each other?"
"How," Simon said quietly. And for the first time, his voice carried the weight he had buried for years.
"How are you alive?"
The ghost took a slow step forward. Dust rose under his boots.
His smirk softened into something unreadable.
"That's the first thing you ask? Seriously?"
He lowered his gaze to the gun, and spoke in a low tone. "I'm relieved you haven't changed. Unlike me."
Simon said nothing.
The ghost breathed out, almost nostalgic, and lifted his head again.
"And for your question. How am I alive? You're asking the wrong thing."
Simon's fingers twitched.
"It's not how I'm alive," the ghost continued. "It's how I still exist."
"And?" Simon's voice sharpened.
"And nothing." The ghost tilted his head.
"There's no 'and.' Only me… and you. I only exist for you."
He gestured lazily at the empty air around them.
"For everyone else? I'm gone. Ask anyone. They'll tell you the same thing. I'm dead. Long buried and forgotten from everyone's story."
"So you're basically saying I'm hallucinating?" Simon stepped forward. "That you're just an illusion?"
"Might be." The ghost's eyes flickered. "Because I only show up for you. But you're not insane. You never would've done what I did. Not even in your dreams."
He lifted the gun loosely again. "So maybe I'm not your illusion."
"Then who's behind this?" Simon asked. "And why are you doing all of this?"
"That part… I can't answer." The ghost shrugged.
"Or more accurately, I don't know myself."
He took another step. Voice lowering. "It's all on you, my friend."
"Because the moment you discover our motives… we vanish."
The door opened.
Rechel flinched in her seat. Eyes immediately lifted at the door. The figures in black and white formal clothes. One female and one male. She had seen them for the first time in her life.
She stood up slowly. Her fingers twitched against each-other, but no words came out.
They approached her with slow steps. Julian's eyes glanced at her. Nodding slightly. Rechel sat down at once.
"Rechel, right?" The words barely escaped Sara's throat.
"Yes." Rechel nodded her head. "And you are Sara, right?" She said, looking in Sara's direction. Then turning at Julian, she said. "And you are?"
Sara shook internally. But she didn't let it appear outside. She took a step forward and replied. "Yes I'm Sara. He is Julian" she said, glancing at Julian. "And we have a lot of things to ask. I hope you can help us."
Rechel tilted her head. "Yeah."
Sara and Julian exchange knowing glances. Then Sara spoke up first. "First off. You told you my name? Did you hear it after you arrived here?"
"No." Rechel shook her head slightly. "He told me."
"He?" Sara tapped the table once.
"Mike." Rechel's dropped to her fingers. "He told me to come here. And ask anyone in the building that you wanted to meet with Sara. He also told me you are a person who understands things better than anyone."
"Hold on a second." Julian stepped in, his voice heavy. "This Mike? Is it the same dude who was living with you, right?"
"Yes." Rechel nodded.
"So what's his deal? With you? Or anyone." Julian pressed.
Simon's hands tightened for a moment, then loosened.
"What about Rechel? Where is she?"
"She's fine." The ghost shrugged lazily, rolling the gun in his hand like it weighed nothing. "I told her to go to the office. Meet your little partners. I'm sure they're asking her all kinds of questions about me. They can handle it. Don't you think so?"
"Stay away from them." Simon's gaze hardened.
"Relax, man." The ghost didn't even glance at him. "I'm not touching them. I've watched them work. They're good. Better than I expected, honestly."
"They're capable."
"Capable?" The ghost laughed under his breath. "That's a heavy word from you."
He looked Simon dead in the eyes. "You really think they'd survive on their own? Without your shadow covering them?"
Simon dropped his eyes. His lips parted, but nothing came out.
The ghost continued, voice rising just a little:
"You don't know the future, do you? Nobody does. But you— you know damn well that without your back protecting them, they're sheep in wolf clothing. They act smart. One misstep and the whole thing collapses. Sounds depressing, but I know you understand that."
"You're wrong." Simon looked up. "They know how to find the right path."
"Yeah. The path straight into the abyss." His tone turned mocking. "I've watched each one of them. Julian? He sees what's in front of him, never what's above him. Sara? The mature one, sure. Understands everything but refuses to acknowledge half of it."
He paused.
"And that little kid? Paul." A dry smile formed in his lips. "He'll be the first one to destroy everything."
He tapped the barrel lightly against his cheek and thought for a moment. "There's another one, isn't there? What was his name?"
"Alex," Simon said quietly.
"Right. Him." The ghost nodded. "Heard about him. Maybe a decent replacement when you retire. Though I still have my doubts."
"I'm not retiring anytime soon." Simon's voice was low.
"Sure." The ghost smirked. "But we're talking about what if."
Simon closed his eyes for a second, letting the breath settle in his chest. When he opened them, his voice carried none of that calm.
"Get to the point," he said. "How long have you been in the city? And why did you kill Hector and Raul."
The ghost blinked. Genuinely surprised.
"I killed them?" He tilted his head, almost offended. "All I did was my job. Hector and that Raul guy were not my responsibility."
Simon's jaw tightened. "Are you saying—"
"I'm saying their death wasn't my fault."
The ghost shrugged lightly. "It was payment for staying with Rechel. She's a good person. I couldn't watch her crumble under everything she was dealing with. So I helped her."
He paused, watching Simon's reaction with a strange softness.
"You can ask her directly."
Rechel's fingers twitched at the mention of his name. Her voice trembled when she answered.
"It's been almost three weeks since he came to my place," she said quietly. "He told me he needed somewhere cheap. I thought about suggesting a few places… but he said he was here on quick business. He'd leave the city in a few weeks."
She swallowed. "So I offered him my place."
Julian leaned forward, his tone sharp. "So you just invite any homeless guy in? Or was he different?"
"No." Her palm hit the table sharply, slicing the air around them.
"There was so much going on back then. My family kept asking for money. I was overworked at the hospital. And then Martha's story. I wasn't thinking straight." Her voice lowered.
"But he didn't seem like that kind of person. He gave rent upfront. Did all the house chores without being asked. He tried to keep the place clean. And for the first time in years… I didn't feel alone."
Sara watched her hands shaking, then asked calmly, "Did he ever tell you what work he does? Anything about himself?"
"Not clearly," Rechel said, eyes unfocused as she dug through memory.
"He said he lived here as a kid. But after getting a job he went overseas for years. Only came back because something came up with his company… manufacturing, maybe? Something like that."
She frowned.
"He also said Mike wasn't his real name. But it's what everyone calls him."
Julian's voice dropped to a low, heavy note.
"So you probably know how he killed Hector Vinchi and Raul, right?"
Rechel's head snapped up. Her eyes widened with something between fear and anger.
"What?" Her voice cracked.
"He didn't kill anyone."