The evening stretched out like a long, thin shadow across my apartment. I couldn't sleep. My head throbbed, a dull hammer behind my eyes, each pulse reminding me that the world was still spinning, still indifferent. Kae's words kept replaying in my mind, small but heavy:
*You're hiding something. And if you keep it to yourself, it's going to crush you.*
I tried moving, tried reading, tried anything to escape the pressure of my own thoughts, but nothing worked. Eventually, I wandered to the kitchen and set a pot of water to boil instant ramen. The steam rose slowly, curling into the ceiling like lazy ghosts. I watched it, hypnotized by the soft hiss, the occasional bubble that popped and vanished.
The Unknown appeared in the corner — or maybe he had been there all along. I wasn't sure anymore. He held a mug of coffee, the surface shimmering, a perfect imitation of normalcy. His grin split the dim light of the kitchen.
"Need some rest?" he asked. "I could tell you some… bedtime stories."
I pinched my eyes shut. "You're really intent on making me sleep and never wake up, huh?"
"And by the way…" he added casually, "…You'll have access to two wishes a day starting tomorrow."
"Was that supposed to make me joyful or something… after you messed up my life?" I asked, dragging the ramen from the microwave.
He raised the mug in a mock salute, eyes glinting. "Who was the one making the wishes? Certainly not me…"
That stung, mostly because he was right. I stared at the noodles swirling in their broth, steam fogging my glasses, and for a moment I remembered the first time he appeared.
I set the ramen on the counter like it was a ticking bomb. "That's it," I muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm done. I don't want this anymore. I'm revoking the contract."
The Unknown's eyebrows rose. "Eh?"
"I said I'm done," I repeated, louder this time. "Take your wishes, your creepy bedtime stories, your dramatic flair — just leave me alone."
He tilted his head, mock hurt. "Ouch, That cuts deep. I thought we had… a thing."
I let out a bitter laugh. "We don't have a thing. And even if we did… it would be unhealthy, possibly illegal in every country."
He stepped closer, the air thickening, shadows pooling where he moved. "Very well, Souta Renjiro."
For a moment, it felt like the universe exhaled. The weight in my chest eased slightly. The constant gnawing, the presence that had been lodged in the corners of my mind for months, faded. Silence followed, heavy and unfamiliar.
The Unknown's grin remained, sharp and predatory. "Farewell for now," he said, voice light but edged with certainty. "I know… we will meet again."
And just like that, he was gone. No coffee mug, no shadow, no smug commentary. Only the faint lingering scent of something bitter — like burned parchment lingered.
I stared at the empty corner. The chest that should have felt lighter throbbed hollowly instead. The apartment felt too quiet, each tick of the wall clock loud enough to cut through the stillness. I trudged back to my room, dragging my feet, letting my shoulders sag.
The bed was soft, too soft, and I slid into it like a ship grounding on unknown shores. My eyes drifted to the ceiling, to the faint glow of streetlights through the blinds, and memories started surfacing unbidden: the first meeting, the richest man in the world, the absurdity of it all.
I remembered the way the Unknown had laughed when I wished for the impossible, the cold, almost amused tilt of his head when my words stumbled against fate. Even now, I felt a pang of… something. Longing? Relief? I couldn't name it.
Sleep finally found me, slow and reluctant. The hum of the city below mixed with the ghost of a grin I would never forget. Alone in my bed, I realized the quiet wasn't comforting. It was a reminder that responsibility came with solitude.
Morning came reluctantly.
The sunlight that slipped through the blinds didn't feel warm — just pale and tired, like it had been up all night watching me. My phone alarm buzzed twice before I reached for it, staring blankly at the screen. Some messages from my homeroom group chat. Nothing important, but they looked louder than they were.
I sat up slowly, feeling like I'd slept on a pile of regrets instead of a mattress. The air smelled faintly of cold ramen. My head was heavy, my body heavier. For a brief, disorienting moment, I expected to hear that familiar voice — some smug comment about my bed hair or how I drool when I sleep.
But there was nothing, just the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional sound of traffic outside.
I shuffled into the kitchen, half-expecting to see the Unknown leaning against the counter again with his usual smirk, coffee in hand. But the corner was just a corner this time — plain, harmless, and empty.
"…Guess I really am alone now," I muttered, scratching my head.
The words felt strange in my mouth, like they didn't belong to me. I poured myself a glass of water, downed it in one go, and stared at the reflection on the windowpane. My eyes looked different, lighter, or maybe just tired.
The day should've felt like a new beginning. But instead, it felt like standing in the aftermath of a storm that no one else remembered.
And yet… somewhere deep down, beneath the exhaustion and the silence, I almost missed him… almost.
By the time I left the house, the sky had already cleared into that lazy blue that only happens after rain. The streets shimmered, and each puddle mirrored my tired face as I passed. The silence was… almost alien. No whispers, no snide remarks from the Unknown. Just me and the hum of distant cicadas.
When I reached the school gate, I almost turned back. Everything looked too normal — laughter spilling from windows, sneakers squeaking on polished floors. For someone who had just cut ties with something abnormal, this level of ordinary felt unbearable.
Then I opened the classroom door.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOUTA!!!"
The explosion of confetti nearly gave me a heart attack. Kenta was standing on a desk waving a cheap streamer cannon like a war hero. Hiro looked unimpressed but still clapped, probably to preserve what was left of his dignity.
But that wasn't all. Practically half the class was there — even those idiots from the basketball club who thought studying was a myth. Someone had dragged in a table with snacks, juice boxes, and a small cake that looked like it was decorated by five people with completely different artistic visions.
I froze. "Wait… what is—"
Kenta slapped my back. "You really did forget your own birthday, didn't you?"
Hiro sighed. "You're hopeless, we even had to convince the homeroom teacher not to tell you."
Before I could reply, Daichi, the loudmouth who once tried to confess to Kae using his muscles shoved a cup of soda in my hand. "Bro, it's your special day! Live a little! You've been walking around like someone stole your soul."
"That's… not too far off," I muttered.
"Eh?"
"Nothing."
At the far end, Kae leaned against a window, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold with that same detached calm. A few of the boys, the ones who had also unsuccessfully tried to ask her out, were arguing over who got to light the candles. Naturally, they set off the smoke alarm.
Everyone panicked, and the teacher's voice echoed from the hallway, "What's that smell!?"
I couldn't help it — I laughed loudly and genuinely.
Kenta grinned. "There it is! That's the Souta we know!"
Kae looked up then, her eyes meeting mine for a second. She smiled faintly — a rare thing, small and real. "Don't get used to them caring this much. Next week they'll be back to calling you weirdo."
"I'll take what I can get," I said, smiling back.
She walked toward me then, brushing past the chaos — Kenta wrestling with the cake knife, Hiro yelling about frosting etiquette and Takumi trying to start another round of singing. When she stopped in front of me, the room felt like it dimmed a little.
"Here," she said simply, holding out a small black box. "Don't make it weird. It's just something I thought you might actually use."
Inside was a wristwatch — simple, silver, nothing fancy. But the second hand ticked softly, steady and real.
I blinked. "You got me a… watch?"
"Congratulations, Sherlock, you figured it out."
I laughed under my breath. "No, I mean… why?"
Kae tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Because you're always running late to everything. Thought you could use something to keep you grounded… in time."
There was something in the way she said it, almost too deliberate.
I fastened the watch around my wrist, its weight cool against my skin. The ticking filled the brief pause between us, quiet but constant.
"Thanks," I said softly. "Really."
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she turned away, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Don't make it sentimental. I'll regret it."
I chuckled and fastened it around my wrist. The weight felt good — grounding, somehow. "Guess I owe you one."
"You already do," she said dryly, but her lips curved just slightly.
I hesitated a second, heart doing this stupid uneven thump. "Then maybe I can pay you back… if you, uh… give me your number?"
Her expression didn't change for a moment. Then she reached into her bag, took out her phone, and held it out to me. "Fine. But don't text me weird stuff."
I blinked. "Wait, you're actually—"
"Don't push it," she said, handing me her contact.
The reaction was instant.
"What?!" Kenta dropped his drink. "You gave him your number?!"
Hiro dramatically clutched his chest. "After everything we've been through, you… betrayed us."
Kae gave them a flat stare. "I'm still blocking the rest of you."
The table erupted into chaos — laughter, teasing, and dramatic wailing about "the chosen one." I just stood there, grinning like an idiot, staring at the faint glow of her name on my phone screen. For a fleeting moment, everything felt right — the noise, the laughter, the teasing. Like all the chaos from before had never happened.