Ryo's eyes slowly fluttered open. A soft glow filtered through his curtains, painting the room in the gentle light of morning. For a moment, he simply lay there, his mind still clouded with sleep.
Then he realized—something was different.
The unbearable heat, the crushing pain, the fever that had wracked his body the night before… all of it was gone. He took a slow, deep breath, half-expecting the sharp sting of discomfort to return. But nothing. Just clear, steady breaths filling his lungs with ease.
Carefully, he sat up. No dizziness. No lingering aches.
Swinging his legs over the bed, Ryo stood, expecting his body to protest. Instead, he felt… light. Energized, even. He stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders experimentally. Every movement was smooth, effortless.
It felt—good.
"Probably just a side effect," he muttered, shaking off the unease creeping at the back of his mind.
Ryo made his way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. The refreshing shock jolted him fully awake. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Though he looked a little worn out, his eyes were clear, and his skin was cool to the touch—no trace of last night's fever.
"Guess I'm really fine now," he murmured, rolling his shoulders before stepping out.
Heading to the kitchenette, he opened the refrigerator and scanned for breakfast. His eyes landed on a pack of meat—something about it seemed... off. The color looked dull, almost like it had aged a week overnight.
Ryo frowned. Weird.
"Probably just my imagination," he muttered, shaking off the thought.
He grabbed some eggs, a few vegetables, and a pack of bacon. If nothing else, today called for a solid, hearty breakfast—a way to mark the end of whatever that fever had been.
With practiced ease, he cracked eggs into a bowl, chopped vegetables, and laid strips of bacon onto the pan. The sizzle filled the air, and soon, the rich, savory scent spread through his apartment. The familiar routine felt grounding, easing the lingering unease at the back of his mind.
Everything's fine. Just a rough night.
Once everything was ready, Ryo plated the meal with care and set it neatly on the small table by the window. The golden sunlight filtering through the glass bathed the room in a soft glow. He took a moment to appreciate the view, letting the weight of the past few days slowly fade.
Finally, a proper meal.
Sitting down, he picked up his fork and took the first bite. The warm, familiar flavors reassured him—eggs, bacon, crisp vegetables. His appetite had fully returned.
As he ate, he grabbed the remote and switched on the TV, hoping for some morning news or mindless entertainment. Instead—static.
Ryo frowned. He flipped through the channels. More static.
Again. Nothing.
The screen flickered with white noise, each failed attempt only amplifying the growing sense of unease. The apartment, which had just moments ago felt normal, now felt strangely... isolated.
"Seriously?" he muttered, tossing the remote onto the table.
Maybe the signal was just down. Annoying, but not a big deal. Shrugging it off, he pulled out his phone instead. If the TV was useless, at least he could check the news online.
But as soon as the screen unlocked—his heart skipped a beat.
The date displayed in the corner of his phone screen was seven days later than it should have been.
Ryo froze.
Seven days?
That couldn't be right. His fingers tightened around the phone as he stared, willing the numbers to change. Maybe it was a glitch. Maybe he had just misread it.
But no matter how many times he blinked, checked his calendar app, or refreshed the screen—the date remained the same.
His chest tightened. Had he really lost an entire week?
A cold unease settled in his stomach. He tried to recall what had happened, but his memory was hazy—a jumble of fevered nightmares, flickering shadows, and a constant, unbearable heat. No clear details, no solid grasp of time. Just pain.
His breakfast sat forgotten on the table, the once-inviting meal now a distant thought.
"No way..." he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
If he had been unconscious for an entire week, how had he survived? No food, no water, no care—yet here he was, completely fine. In fact, he felt better than ever.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Slowly, he pushed his chair back and stood, his movements tense. He scanned the apartment as if expecting something to be different—something to explain how he had lost seven days of his life.
But everything looked the same.
That, somehow, made it worse.
Restlessness took over, and he started pacing. His mind reeled with questions, none of which had answers. The eerie silence of the apartment pressed in around him.
Something had changed.
Something was wrong.
Ryo rushed to his window, heart pounding.
The city stretched out before him, unchanged at first glance—the same towering buildings, the same empty roads. But something was… off.
Too still.
Too quiet.
The usual hum of life—car engines, distant chatter, the occasional blare of a siren—was gone.
An unnatural hush settled over the world, so absolute that even his own breathing felt too loud. He strained his ears, desperate to catch any sign of movement. Nothing.
A chill crawled up his spine.
What the hell is going on?
His unease mounting, Ryo quickly changed into fresh clothes, grabbed his phone and keys, and made his way to the door. The hallway outside was just as silent. Normally, he would hear the muffled sounds of TVs, footsteps, or the hum of appliances behind closed doors.
Now, there was only silence.
He swallowed hard and headed for the stairs. Each step echoed unnaturally loud in the emptiness, the sense of unease growing heavier with every floor he descended.
By the time he reached the lobby, a strange, suffocating dread had settled in his chest.
He hesitated at the entrance, inhaling sharply before pushing open the doors.
The moment he stepped outside, blinding sunlight flooded his vision, momentarily disorienting him. He squinted, adjusting to the light—then froze.
The streets stretched before him in eerie stillness.
Abandoned cars cluttered the roads, some with their doors left wide open. Luggage and personal belongings were scattered along the sidewalks. Trash littered the pavement, fluttering aimlessly in the wind.
But the most disturbing thing was the absolute absence of people.
Not a single soul in sight.
The city wasn't just quiet.
It was empty.
Ryo took a cautious step forward, every nerve on edge.
The city around him felt… wrong.
Shops that should have been open were shuttered, their signs dark and lifeless. Cafés that once bustled with morning chatter stood eerily still. There were no pedestrians, no cyclists, no traffic.
Just an empty world drowning in silence.
A cold unease settled in his gut.
He pulled out his phone, fingers slightly unsteady as he dialed his sister first. No answer. He tried a friend, then another. Straight to voicemail.
One after another. Nothing.
He quickly typed out messages. Are you there? Where is everyone? Call me. He hit send, watching the screen anxiously.
No replies.
It was like he was the only one left.
Lowering his phone, Ryo swept his gaze over the still streets, his mind racing. How could an entire city just… vanish?
His pulse quickened. He needed answers.
His first thought was the nearest grocery store—if anyone was still around, that would be a good place to check.
With hurried steps, he made his way down the empty road, past lifeless traffic lights and abandoned cars. The closer he got, the more unsettling the world became.
When he reached the store, the automatic doors slid open, their mechanical hum the only sound breaking the suffocating silence.
Inside, the air was stale, thick with the remnants of something wrong.
Shelves stood half-empty, aisles littered with spilled products, scattered baskets, and abandoned carts. It looked like people had fled mid-shop, grabbing whatever they could before disappearing.
The register area was deserted. The flickering overhead lights cast long, uneasy shadows.
Ryo swallowed hard, his breath coming slow and deliberate.
He wasn't just alone.
He was standing in the aftermath of something terrible.
( End of Chapter )