Yuri moved down the road with his hood low, shoes scraping against the dirt. His thoughts spiraled in tight, choking loops."What is wrong with me…? I almost lost it back there."He pressed a palm to his forehead, muttering the same word under his breath. "Stupid… stupid… stupid."
He stopped mid-step.
The silence finally reached him.
Not just quiet.Wrong.
He lifted his head, only a fraction, and his stomach flipped. Every villager on the street had turned toward him. Men holding crates. Women leaning from doorways. Children frozen mid-play.
All of them staring.Not blinking.Not breathing.
A silence he knew far too well.
Yuri's throat locked. He forced his gaze downward and walked. One step. Another. Boots heavy, heart hammering. He felt every pair of eyes tracking him, following each movement like predators trailing a wounded animal.
His hands began to shake. Sweat slid from his jaw, dripping onto the ground.Please… please… please… please… please…
He gathered the thin scraps of courage he had left and raised his head.
Instant regret.
Color bled out of the world. The people dissolved into tall, hollow silhouettes, pitch-black from head to toe, with spiraling yellow rings where their eyes should have been. Dozens. Hundreds. All tilted toward him.
Yuri couldn't breathe.
His vision fractured, glitching in sharp, stuttering cuts. A sudden stab of pain exploded behind his right eye. He grabbed it with a gasp, knees buckling. He felt something wet soaking through his glove. Then a warm, heavy trail slid down his cheek.
Darkness.His eye was bleeding darkness… while his pupil blazed white.
The sensation clawed through him, horribly familiar, terribly close.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Warm. Solid.
The world snapped back like a whip.Color. Noise. Footsteps. Whispering conversations. Laughter drifting from shop windows. A baby crying somewhere down the lane. Everything returned in a rush that almost knocked him over.
Yuri turned his head slowly.
A man with a broad build and a thick mountain accent watched him with concern. Beside him stood a shorter woman with round glasses and a basket of herbs.
"You alright, brother?" the man asked. "You look sick."
Yuri stared at them.
Not with fear. Not confusion.
Just quiet, simmering rage.
"Do I really… seem that stupid to you?" he said.
The man blinked. "I don't understand—"
"It's fine," Yuri cut in, already turning away. "Don't worry."
He walked past them without another word, back toward Ravi's shop. His grip tightened around his blade inside his sleeve, the metal pressing heavily against his palm, heavier with each step.
He finally knew.
"I know what I need to do."