Elijah stared heavily at the book. The more he looked at it, the more familiar it became to him it was as if he had already read it. He was about to walk away when he heard a voice call out, "Is that you, Elijah?"
Elijah turned to see who had spoken. It was a young man in his late twenties with tall brown hair and hazel eyes. He looked as though he hadn't eaten anything in days.
"I'm so glad you're alive... Sadly, not many of us survived," the young man said.
(I'm lost. What the hell is he talking about?) Elijah looked at the man with a confused expression.
The man spoke in a panicked voice, "No! They got to you!" His eyes were filled with fear. Before Elijah could respond, the man ran away.
Elijah considered chasing after him but decided against it. (If I chase him, it might lead me to my own death. Besides, I have no memory of that man.)
Elijah managed to reach the apartment complex. It had a Gothic design and was brown in color. A group of police officers surrounded the building, dressed in black with sabers strapped to the left side of their waists. On the right side was a gun—an old, outdated model.
"If you don't live in this apartment, then get moving," a young officer said. His voice sounded familiar to Elijah. (He sounds like...) Before he could finish the thought, another young male police officer approached him. The man's eyes glowed a bright red, and his hair was a hazel color. His presence filled Elijah with an overwhelming sense of fear. (He was one of the men from that night.)
"Hey, you! Do you live here?" the young man demanded, his eyes slowly fading to a light blue.
"Yeah, I live here... I just came to pick up some stuff. Can I go get them?" Elijah managed to force out the words, though his head was spinning. He couldn't think straight.
The young man walked over to the other officers, speaking in hushed tones just out of earshot. Elijah couldn't make out what they were saying.
Thirty seconds passed, and the young man returned. "You can go in," he said.
Elijah walked into the building and saw a flight of stairs leading to the second floor. He climbed them, and upon reaching the top, he noticed deep claw marks gouged into the hallway walls.
(That thing from that night must have come through here...)
His apartment door stood ahead. He opened it, stepping into his plain, small apartment, and closed the door behind him. Heading straight to the bedroom, he saw a bookshelf in the corner. A desk sat nearby, cluttered with papers—pages he couldn't read at first glance. But when he looked again, the words suddenly became clear.
"SAVE ME!"
Every single page repeated the same phrase over and over.
"What the fuck?" Elijah muttered, shuffling through the pile. Yet no matter which one he picked up, the message remained the same.
Amid the chaos of papers, he spotted a book cover—a journal.
"If this is the cover, then where the hell is the rest of it?"
He searched the room frantically, checking under the bed, inside drawers, and even beneath the desk. The only place left was the bookshelf.
Elijah slowly began removing books from the shelf, checking each one for a matching cover. He started from the bottom, working his way up. After a few minutes, he reached the middle shelf and pulled out a book titled The Outsiders—though its cover didn't match the one he'd seen at the store. Just as he was about to flip through it, he glanced up and noticed an iron safe hidden behind the row of books.
Setting The Outsiders on the desk, Elijah pushed the remaining books aside, sending several tumbling to the floor. He pulled the safe out, only to realize he didn't know the combination. His eyes darted back to the book on the desk. He grabbed it and began flipping through the pages, noticing large numbers scrawled in the corners of certain pages.
"This..."
Elijah combed through the book five times, carefully noting each number on a scrap of paper. "This should make up the pin," he muttered. Over the next few minutes, he painstakingly entered the sequences he'd found. By the end, he had five distinct pairs of numbers.
Before trying them, he tested the safe's mechanism by inputting random digits. After some trial and error, he confirmed it required a five-number combination. He cross-referenced the numbers on his paper, entering the first four sequences—none worked. Only one remained: 80091.
Click!
The lock released. A wide grin spread across Elijah's face as he opened the safe. Inside lay a tattered, coverless book. He peered deeper and found a stack of cash—£8,000—alongside a small notebook. He opened it, scanning the first page.
"Is this a journal entry?"
Monday, June 7th, 1426
----
I have left home with my best friend, Marcus. I just don't feel welcome there anymore… The truth is, Father disowned me for many reasons. Of course, I don't want to dwell on the past.
Elijah flipped the page to the next entry:
Thursday, June 10th, 1426
It's been a few days since we arrived in this city—oh, right, I forgot to mention we're in Aurelia, the "City of Gold"! We managed to find jobs here. The pay is quite good, though I have to wear this stupid butler uniform. Anyway, what I've learned is that they use a different currency system here than in the countryside. Back home, we used dollars, but here, they use all sorts of coins:
1 copper coin = 1 cent
1 silver coin = 10 cents
1 pence = 100 cents (equivalent to 1 dollar)
1 rio = 1,000 cents (equivalent to 10 dollars)
1 lerio = 5,000 cents (equivalent to 50 dollars)
1 pound = 10,000 cents (equivalent to 100 dollars)
1 nero = 1,000,000 cents (equivalent to 10,000 dollars)
Back home was much simpler. But here, I earn 1 rio an hour, working about 10 hours a day. It's not bad—Marcus and I are planning to rent an apartment soon.
The entry ended. Elijah flipped through more pages, but they were all blank. He set the notebook back on the desk and picked up the coverless journal instead. Most of its pages detailed mundane, happy memories—until he stumbled upon an entry from last year.
Saturday, November 2nd, 1429
We're so close to graduation—I can almost taste the victory as I write this. Sadly, Marcus isn't here to share this moment. He's been going out every night and returning at five in the morning, looking like he's seen someone die. I'm really worried about him. Maybe it's because of those Longheart kids… I know they're a famous family, but something feels off. I need to find out what's going on.
Elijah turned the page, but the next entry was missing—ripped out. The tear marks were old, edges frayed and smudged with dirt. He carefully flipped past the gap and found another entry, this one from just a few days ago.
March 22, 1430
I can feel my present self slowly melting away like sand in the wind… I fear that by the next time I wake, I will have become someone else. Why did I have to be cursed with such a fate? If I have truly faded, then these words will be the last remnant of my existence.
If you are reading this, then you are the one who has replaced me. Your fate is sealed—there is no escape. Though you have taken my place, I wish to help you.
My knowledge is limited, but this much I can say: if you wish to survive, forge strong alliances. My only warning is this—do not involve yourself with the Longheart family.
I wish I could explain more, but doing so would only endanger you… I pray that whoever has inherited my existence is a kind soul, one who might yet save them.
.
.
The entry ended. A deep, gnawing dread settled into Elijah's bones. (I replaced a living person…) His knees buckled as the truth struck him. He hadn't been summoned to this world or given a fabricated body. He was an invader—a glitch that had overwritten another man's life.
A hollow laugh escaped him. "Heh… At least now I know how I got here. Thank you, Elijah. If not for this, I'd still be in the dark."
Methodically, he gathered the scattered papers and books, stuffing the journal into a bag. As he turned to leave, a glint caught his eye—a silver pendant on the top shelf, its edges trimmed with fool's gold. He couldn't recall seeing it before. When it refused to open, he tucked it into the bag with the rest.
His hand was on the doorknob when he noticed it: a single white envelope, slipped beneath the door. He knelt, turning it over. Two words glared back in stark, ink-black letters:
"I KNOW YOUR SECRET."