Morning never truly came.
The sky only lightened enough to suggest the idea of it.
Aira stood at the edge of the park, watching the city wake without waking—windows glowing softly, trains moving without sound, people walking with the same calm, measured steps.
Too calm.
Too synchronized.
She followed a street she had never taken before.
The buildings here were older, their walls stained by time that refused to move forward. At the end of the street stood a structure that did not belong to any map.
A building without a sign.
Without windows.
Its door was already open.
Inside, the air was dry and still.
Rows upon rows of drawers lined the walls.
Metal.Wood.Plastic.
Each one marked with a name.
Some were cleanly written.Some were scratched.Some were barely legible.
Aira's hands trembled.
She walked slowly, reading them.
Elin.Kaito.Mori.Sena.
Names she had spoken.Names that had spoken back.
At the far end of the room, she found it.
AIRA MIZUHARA
The letters were faded.
Old.
Her throat tightened.
"No," she whispered.
The word echoed—but weakly, as if the room didn't believe her.
She pulled the drawer open.
Inside was nothing dramatic.
No blood.No horror.
Just stillness.
A shape that looked like it had once been her.
Peaceful.
Finished.
Her memories returned—not as a rush, but as a gentle settling.
Rain.Cold pavement.A moment where the world felt too heavy to carry anymore.
Then silence.
Not darkness.
Just… quiet.
"So this is where we're kept."
Elin's voice came from behind her.
Aira didn't turn.
"Kept?" she asked. "Or forgotten?"
Elin stepped beside her.
"Neither," she said. "We're remembered. Just not by the living."
Aira closed the drawer.
The sound felt final.
"Why do we walk?" Aira asked. "Why do we talk, laugh, feel tired?"
Elin looked at her with eyes full of something close to mercy.
"Because we didn't disappear all at once," she said."Some part of us stayed behind."
Aira laughed softly.
It sounded hollow.
"So this city…"
Elin nodded.
"A place for those who linger," she finished."For those who didn't leave cleanly."
Aira stepped outside.
From here, the city looked different.
She could see it now.
The way the lights formed patterns.The way streets curved into letters.
Names.
Everywhere.
Written by footsteps that would never reach home.
"What happens if I leave?" Aira asked.
Elin shook her head.
"You already did."
Aira closed her eyes.
For the first time, the weight in her chest lifted.
Not happiness.
Not relief.
Acceptance.
When she opened them again, the city was quieter.
A little emptier.
One name among the lights began to fade.