The more Aurex considered his predicament, the more a cold certainty settled over him: if he ever hoped to escape this place, caution was paramount. He couldn't simply bolt into the night. He needed to observe, to comprehend, to find the tiny fissure in the endless, unchanging pattern. That meant scrutinizing the very people closest to him ,his own family.
The thought still twisted his gut. It felt fundamentally wrong to even entertain such suspicions. Yet, he couldn't dismiss what he'd witnessed. Something was terribly amiss in this house, in this town. And until he understood what, trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not even with the people who had raised him.
So, a plan solidified in his mind. For the next few days, he would become an unseen observer. Every evening at 6 p.m., he would settle quietly by the small peephole he'd painstakingly carved near the bottom of his door. He would listen, watch, and meticulously piece together their routine,when they left, how long they were gone, and, most crucially, if it was ever truly safe for him to leave his room.
That night, as the clock inexorably ticked towards six, he positioned himself by the peephole, tense and utterly silent.
Then, the bells rang.
Three slow, perfectly even chimes.
Immediately, the house stirred. He heard the familiar creak of footsteps on the wooden floor. At first, only vague shapes passed by, shadows flickering under the thin sliver of light beneath his door. They were smiling, as always. But there was an unsettling stiffness to their movements, a disconnect. Their faces didn't shift naturally. Their eyes didn't blink enough. They didn't speak, not even a casual word as they brushed past one another. Robots. That's what they resembled. Hollow, smiling machines.
His room was on the second floor, so he heard them moving around upstairs for nearly an hour, a slow, methodical pacing from one room to another. Then, around 7 p.m., the sounds shifted, indicating they'd all descended downstairs. He darted to his window and cautiously peeked outside.
But no one left the house.
He scrambled back and forth between the peephole and the window, his nerves tightening with each passing second. Another hour dragged by. Finally, around 8 p.m., he saw them.
His father stepped outside. Then his sister. Then his younger brother.
But not his mother.
He rushed back to the peephole, pressing his eye tightly against it. Still nothing. No movement, no sound from anywhere else in the house. She wasn't upstairs. And she hadn't left.
Was she in the hallway? The kitchen? Was she… watching him?
The thought sent a shiver of ice down his spine. He didn't dare move. He waited, an eternity stretching out before him.
9 p.m. came and went.
Still nothing. His mother didn't reappear. His family didn't return. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. His heart hammered in his ears.
He didn't sleep. Or perhaps he did, a sudden, inexplicable blackout. The next thing he knew, the bells were ringing again.
Three slow, even chimes.
His eyes snapped open. He was lying on the wooden floor, still in the same cramped position. Exhausted. Dazed. Profoundly confused.
What had happened? Had he blacked out? He had no memory of falling asleep.
Then he heard it. His mother's voice, calling his name from the hallway.
He shot into bed, yanking the covers over himself just as she opened the door, her head peeking in to check on him. She smiled. Warmly. Calmly. As if nothing was amiss. As if she hadn't simply vanished for four hours.
He mumbled something about being tired, nodding vaguely. She smiled again, that unnervingly serene smile, then closed the door and left.
The morning routine resumed its relentless, unblemished cycle. Breakfast. Juice and eggs. The same hushed conversation. The same overly warm greetings. The same newspaper.
He looked at his father, sitting across the table, leisurely turning a page.
And then Aurex saw it again.
The date.
The exact same date as before.
His stomach twisted into a knot. It was impossible. Unless time itself had stopped. Or reset. Or… something far more sinister. He fought to keep his expression neutral, his hands steady, but inside, his thoughts spun wildly.
What's going on? Why does the paper never change? Why do they smile like that?
He left the house with his brother, the walk to school too short to process the whirlwind in his mind. His brother's cheerful chatter was just background noise, a meaningless hum. By the time he reached his classroom, his thoughts were a tangled mess.
Then, during the first period, the teacher launched into another lecture,on The Ten Rules. Aurex barely registered the words; he had them memorized. Everyone did.
"Do not speak of the Erased."
"Sleep by 10 p.m."
His mind flickered back to Renn, the boy who had been erased right in front of them. What stood out to him now wasn't the event itself, but the reaction that followed.
People laughed.
Not everyone, but some. Giggling like children. Smiling like clowns.
But wasn't that breaking the rules? Wasn't that a direct violation?
Why weren't they punished?
Aurex stared blankly at the chalkboard, his thoughts miles away from the lesson. Perhaps the rules didn't apply equally to everyone. Perhaps some people weren't like the others at all.
Perhaps his family was part of that group.
His father, forever turning the pages of the same old newspaper.
His mother, who vanished into the house, only to reappear as if no time had passed.
His sister, who smiled, yet never blinked.
Was it possible they were like the ones who laughed at Renn's disappearance?
The rest of the school day passed in a surreal blur. At lunch, he sat alone, meticulously sifting through the pieces he was collecting. Every detail mattered. He had to keep them all perfectly straight.
The footsteps. The newspaper. The rules. The hole in the wall.
And most of all,the boy.
The one who told him to keep his eyes open. Who warned him that nothing could be trusted.
He was right.
Something was profoundly wrong with this place.
And Aurex was finally, terrifyingly, starting to see it.