In the midst of her blazing fury, Aya suddenly remembered the strange boy who had washed up on the lakeshore in the forest. Fueled by sheer irritation and a swelling grudge toward her brother, Aya Geiger stomped confidently along the slippery footpath that day. Her logic was simple: if there was a way in, there had to be a way out. She wasn't talking about Kyle, who somehow could come and go as he pleased—no, she was betting on the strange boy.
There's no way he ended up at the edge of a shallow lake like that without passing through the five-meter-high electrified fence... not if he didn't even know where the entrance was.
"Not a big deal if you won't help me," shethought. "I'll get out of here on my own."
Then she corrected herself, the boy flashing back in her mind. "Correction—maybe with a little help."
Aya paused, a flicker of doubt creeping in. Her thoughts scrambled, Was he even real? Was that moment even real? Or was I just hallucinating?
Then came the memory of a horror novel she read two months ago. What if he's actually a ghost who haunts the lake and demands tribute because I've been drinking the water all this time?!
But driven by her anger at Kyle and her burning desire to escape, Aya braced herself for every possible outcome. So when she crawled through the bushes about three meters from the lake, pulled back a section of leaves, and locked eyes with a gaze staring back at her—
She screamed. "AAAAHHHH!!"
She bolted, one boot flying off as she ran, the same sentence repeating in her head like a broken record: "I knew it, he's a ghost!"
She slammed the door shut behind her without even taking off the other boot. When she realized the boy had followed her, she locked the wooden door tight and considered calling her brother. But the memory of last night's argument flashed through her mind, and she tossed her white tablet back down.
"As if I'd call that jerk first."
With that, Aya was out of ideas. All she could do was make sure every window and door was locked tight, then pace the living room in distress. Every few minutes she yanked her hair and tried to calm herself with a mantra: "Stay calm. Calm. Don't panic. He's just some homeless-looking kid you found by the lake. This is your house. He can't—"
Knock knock.
The sound crept into her ears like a slow drumbeat.
Aya glanced at her tablet again, considering whether to crush her pride and call Kyle. She whispered to herself, "It's okay, Aya. What's wrong with apologizing first? Better than dealing with a ghost. It's okay."
Knock knock.
The knocking returned, perfectly synchronized with the ringing phone once she began dialing Kyle. She crouched in a kitchen corner, chewing her fingernails in fear, her heart pounding faster with every overlapping sound.
"Pick up, Kyle..." she whispered shakily. "Please... I'm scared..."
She nearly slammed her tablet in frustration—then came a loud thud! from the front door.
Aya flinched, her eyes wide. What was that sound?
At that exact moment, Kyle answered the phone.
"Hello?"
Aya ignored his voice and slowly crawled toward the front door.
"Aya?" Kyle repeated. "Hello?"
"Ssh—wait!" she hissed, realizing she'd just spoken. "Kyle?"
"Yeah, it's me." He sounded strangely rushed. "Sorry I took so long. What's going on?"
What was going on?
Aya hesitated. Should I tell him the truth? Or maybe... no?
She peeked through the security camera and saw the boy's body sprawled out in front of the door. His once-white shirt was now caked in dirt. Her eyes widened. Despite everything, pity began to creep in—and she decided to lie.
"Aya?"
"Y-yeah. So, um, I want you to apologize to me."
"…pardon?"
"It's true. You were the one at fault. So just apologize. Now."
"…O..kay? I'm sorry. Forgive me."
"Good."
"…Anything else you want?"
"Bring me a gift."
"A gift? What kind of gift?"
"A present."
"Yeah, I get that. I mean, specifically."
"I just want a gift."
A long, heavy sigh came through the phone before Kyle finally replied, "…Fine. Anything else?"
"Nope. That's it. I'm hanging up."
"Wait, what?!—"
Click. Aya hung up, set the tablet on the side table, and opened the front door—only to find nothing.
"Empty?!" she thought, bewildered. She pushed the door wider and stepped out, just as a large hand slammed into her face and threw her backward.
She didn't even have time to scream.
When she came to, she was lying on the floor, her chest heaving in pain, the back of her head throbbing.
"It hurts!" Aya wanted to scream, but the pressure on her throat silenced her. "I can't breathe!"
She couldn't move. The tablet was far out of reach. There was no one to help her. Heart racing, she stared into the face of her attacker—a boy with dark hair, cracked lips, and a scar above his brow. His dark eyes, matching his hair, were filled with fury and desperation. A flicker of pain and remorse glinted behind them, cloaked beautifully in sadness. His red, teary gaze burned into hers.
"H-hurts..." Aya whimpered, gripping his wrist, tears spilling down her cheeks—whether from pain or the sorrow in his eyes, she couldn't tell. "It...hurts..."
Strangely, the boy smiled. His red eyes squinted as tears rolled down to mix with hers.
"I'm hurting too…" he whispered. "My friends... they all died in pain. That's why, please... kill me. Fight me, and win..."
His voice trembled with raw despair. Aya's heart ached just looking at him. She sobbed—she would've screamed if she wasn't being choked. Her gasps grew shorter, and in that moment, her brother flashed in her mind.
"Kyle…"
She started mumbling it in her head. Again and again, until suddenly, she whispered it aloud.
"K-kyle..."
And just like that, the grip loosened. Aya burst into tears.
"…Kyle!!!!!"
She wailed—right as the boy let go completely. Fueled by a strange surge of strength, Aya shoved his chest and kicked his stomach with all her might.
"AAAAHHH!!"
Thud!
With her own two eyes, she watched the boy get flung backward, the back of his head slamming into the edge of a table before going completely still.
Aya rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and pointed it at him, panting. But strangely, the boy didn't move. The whole thing reminded her of how he passed out at her door, only to suddenly attack her later.
"Is he faking again?!"
She grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and threw it at him. It hit his arm hard, but nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing.
"H-Hey! W-wake up! Don't play dead!"
No response.
"I've got a knife! Should I throw that instead?!"
Still no reaction. Then she remembered how hard his head hit the table.
"What if he hit it too hard…?"
Cautiously, she approached. She nudged him with her foot. Nothing. She kicked harder. Slapped his cheek. Yanked his hair until it came off in clumps. Still motionless.
"What's going on?" Aya panicked. "Is he... is he still alive?!"
She rushed to check for breath—thankfully, she could still feel it. Relieved, she collapsed to the floor about a meter from the boy, covering her face with her hands.
"That was close…" she whispered. "Way too close. I nearly died! What a charming welcome—"
TING.
A message popped up on her tablet.
From Kyle:
I'll be home in thirty minutes.