Morning came like nothing had happened.
No storm.
No darkness.
No sign that something unnatural had crawled through their lives the night before.
Birds chirped outside as if they had signed a contract to ignore human suffering.
Inside the house, Juson opened his eyes slowly.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then he felt it—
Herik.
Still beside him.
Curled up, breathing softly, like the previous night hadn't rewritten the rules of reality.
Juson exhaled.
Maybe it was over.
Maybe whatever that thing was… it had left.
He rubbed his eyes and gently shook the child. "Wake up."
Herik groaned, rolled once, then pushed himself up.
"Help me brush," he said, half-awake.
Juson nodded absently, but his mind had already moved elsewhere.
Yokina.
He stepped into the kitchen.
Empty.
"Yokina?" he called.
No response.
The silence stretched.
He turned back—
Herik was gone.
Of course.
Perfect timing.
A voice came from outside.
Not familiar.
Not casual.
Juson moved quickly toward the door.
And stopped.
Yokina stood near the gate.
Beside her—
A policeman.
And a young man.
Juson recognized him instantly.
The maid's son.
Yokina noticed him. "He's my husband."
Juson walked forward, his face calm, his thoughts anything but.
He gave her a small look.
Take Herik inside.
She understood.
"Are you Mr. Juson?" the policeman asked.
Juson nodded. "What's the matter?"
The boy stepped forward.
His voice cracked before the words even formed.
"My mother… is missing."
For a second—
Everything froze.
Juson didn't see the boy anymore.
He saw—
Dust.
Breaking apart.
Floating.
Disappearing.
"What do you mean… missing?" Juson asked slowly.
The boy swallowed. "She came here yesterday… to tell you about my job."
He struggled to continue.
"She never came back."
The silence after that felt heavier than anything said before.
The policeman stepped in, voice steady.
"We don't want to trouble you. But any information could help."
Juson's throat tightened.
Truth sat right there.
Ugly.
Impossible.
Useless.
So he did what people like him do best.
He replaced it.
"She came," Juson said.
Both of them looked at him.
"She arrived when I got back from my friend's house."
His voice stayed even.
Controlled.
"She told me about the job… then said she was going to visit her sister."
The boy frowned. "She never told us that."
Juson pretended to think.
As if searching memory instead of manufacturing it.
"…another city," he added. "She mentioned it before."
The policeman exchanged a glance with the boy.
Not convinced.
But not empty-handed either.
"Thank you," the officer said finally.
"We'll continue the search."
The boy looked like he wanted to say more.
But didn't.
They left.
Juson stood there long after they were gone.
Then slowly turned back toward the house.
And stopped.
The car.
The roof still carried the truth.
Dust.
Fine.
Silent.
Waiting.