Rain fell.
Not heavy.
Not light.
Just enough to make the world feel… distant.
He stood among the crowd.
Unmoving.
Unnoticed.
Black umbrellas filled the space like shadows.
White flowers rested in trembling hands.
Low voices drifted through the air.
Muted.
Meaningless.
A funeral.
At the center—
a coffin.
It hung above an open grave, held by two ropes.
Swaying slightly.
He watched it.
Not the people.
Not the priest.
Only the coffin.
Memorize it.
The thought came naturally.
Unforced.
As if it had always existed.
The ropes tightened.
The wood creaked.
Wet soil clung to the edges of the grave.
Everything was precise.
Everything was clear.
"Such a tragedy…"
Someone whispered.
"He was fine yesterday."
"Life is unpredictable."
He ignored them.
People always explained things.
Even when there was nothing to explain.
Earlier—
before the ceremony—
he had seen the body.
The face.
The skin.
The stillness.
Pale.
Cold.
Unmoving.
Dead.
There was no mistake.
The coffin descended slowly.
The ropes loosened.
The men lowered it carefully.
Then—
a dull sound.
It reached the bottom.
Soil followed.
One shovel at a time.
Soft impacts.
Muted by rain.
The world continued.
Unchanged.
People began to leave.
One by one.
Umbrellas turned.
Footsteps faded.
Voices disappeared.
Grief ended quickly.
Routine did not.
He stayed.
Until the grave was filled.
Until there was nothing left to observe.
Only then—
he turned.
And walked away.
No emotion followed.
No thoughts lingered.
Only memory.
The next day—
the rain was gone.
Sunlight spread across the city.
Bright.
Clear.
As if nothing had happened.
He walked the same path.
Same time.
Same pace.
Routine was important.
Consistency revealed irregularities.
His eyes moved slowly.
Observing.
Recording.
People passed by.
Voices overlapped.
Vehicles moved in patterns.
Everything aligned.
Until—
it didn't.
A man walked past him.
Their shoulders brushed.
"Watch it."
Casual.
Alive.
He stopped.
Not suddenly.
Just enough.
Then—
he turned.
The man continued walking.
Blending into the crowd.
But his face—
Recognized.
The world did not stop.
But something beneath it—
shifted.
"…No."
Same height.
Same posture.
Same voice.
Same face.
The man from the coffin.
Dead.
Buried.
Confirmed.
Yet—
walking.
Alive.
He did not react immediately.
Instead—
he replayed it.
The funeral.
The coffin.
The face.
No mistake.
His gaze locked onto the figure ahead.
Still there.
Still moving.
Real.
He stepped forward—
then stopped.
No.
Not yet.
He needed confirmation.
He reached out—
grabbing the arm of a passerby.
"That person."
He pointed.
"The one in the black shirt."
The man looked.
Paused.
Frowned.
"Who?"
Silence.
"The man ahead."
The stranger looked again.
Longer this time.
Then shook his head.
"There's no one there."
A pause.
"…Look carefully."
"I am."
The man pulled his arm away.
"You should rest."
Then he left.
Just like that.
The noise of the street returned.
Voices.
Engines.
Movement.
Everything normal.
Too normal.
Slowly—
he turned again.
The man in the black shirt was still there.
Walking.
Existing.
Unchanged.
"…Only I can see him."
His heartbeat remained steady.
But his thoughts sharpened.
Mistaken identity.
Rejected.
Hallucination.
Unlikely.
Then—
The man ahead stopped.
No reason.
No signal.
Just—
stopped.
In the middle of the moving crowd.
People walked around him.
Naturally.
Without noticing.
As if he belonged perfectly.
Then—
slowly—
he turned his head.
And looked directly at him.
Their eyes met.
No irritation.
No confusion.
Only awareness.
Cold.
Precise.
Knowing.
As if—
He could see him too.
For a brief moment—
something shifted.
Not in the world.
In… perception.
A faint pressure.
As if something unseen—
was observing.
Far above.
The feeling vanished instantly.
But the thought remained.
…Observed.
The man turned away.
And continued walking.
Until he disappeared.
Gone.
He did not follow.
Because something more important had already happened.
Confirmation.
He closed his eyes briefly.
The funeral.
The grave.
The body.
Then—
today.
Alive.
Seen.
Ignored.
"…Corrected."
The word formed slowly.
Not as a conclusion.
As a possibility.
He opened his eyes.
And for the first time—
he noticed something else.
A building.
He had passed it countless times before.
A church.
Tall.
White.
Silent.
Too clean.
Its walls reflected sunlight unnaturally.
As if untouched by time.
Above the entrance—
a symbol.
Not a cross.
A circle.
Incomplete.
Broken.
People entered quietly.
Heads lowered.
Eyes empty.
No hesitation.
No thought.
Just—
obedience.
He stopped.
A strange thought surfaced.
"…Rehearsed."
For a moment—
he watched them.
No one looked up.
No one questioned.
Then—
he turned away.
As he walked—
voices drifted nearby.
"Did you hear?"
"What?"
"That accident last night…"
"…What about it?"
"It's gone."
A pause.
"No report. No record. Nothing."
Silence.
"…You're imagining things."
"Yeah… maybe."
Their voices faded.
But the words remained.
Gone.
No record.
No trace.
His steps slowed slightly.
Then resumed.
The world moved normally.
Too normally.
As if—
everything that didn't fit…
was removed.
His gaze sharpened.
For the first time—
he wasn't just observing.
He was questioning.
"What is being corrected?"
The wind passed.
And for a brief moment—
it felt like the world itself…
was listening.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
Routine resumed.
But something had changed.
Irreversibly.
Because now—
every face,
every movement,
every detail—
was a possibility.
A mistake.
A flaw.
Something that should not exist.
And if something was wrong—
Then it could be understood.
Controlled.
Broken.
A faint shift appeared in his expression.
Not emotion.
Interest.
End of Chapter 1