Ryo's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soft glow of early morning light seeping through his curtains. For a moment, he lay still, his mind a haze of confusion. Then, slowly, he realized that the oppressive heat and agonizing pain that had plagued him were gone. He took a deep breath, relishing the sensation of air filling his lungs without the sharp sting of discomfort.
He sat up cautiously, half-expecting the wave of dizziness to return, but his body responded with a surprising ease. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Ryo stood up, marveling at how light and strong he felt. He stretched, feeling his muscles loosen without the slightest twinge of pain.
He stood up, stretching his body experimentally. Every movement felt effortless, each muscle responding smoothly. It was almost invigorating.
"Probably just a side effect," Ryo murmured to himself, dismissing the intensity of yesterday's ordeal.
Making his way to the bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water, the refreshing sensation jolting him fully awake. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror; although he looked a bit worn out, his eyes were clear, and his skin was cool to the touch, no longer feverish. Reassured that he was truly back to normal, he decided to start his day.
Ryo headed to the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator, his eyes scanning for breakfast options. However, he paused, frowning as he noticed the meat. It looked... off, as though it had aged a week overnight.
"Probably just my imagination," he muttered, chalking it up to his still-groggy mind. Shaking off the odd feeling, he grabbed some eggs, a few vegetables, and a package of bacon. Today called for a solid, hearty breakfast—something to mark the end of whatever strange fever had overtaken him.
Ryo moved with steady, practiced motions, cracking eggs into a bowl, chopping vegetables, and laying strips of bacon on the hot pan until they sizzled. The familiar routine eased his lingering sense of unease, grounding him after the strange events of the past days. As the rich, savory scent filled his apartment, he felt a sense of calm return.
Once everything was ready, he plated the meal with care, setting it neatly on the small table by the window. Sitting down, he took a moment to appreciate the view beyond the glass, feeling the weight of the last few days slowly lift as he prepared to enjoy his first real meal back to health.
As he ate, Ryo reached for the remote and switched on the TV, hoping to catch up on the news or watch some mindless entertainment. To his frustration, every channel displayed nothing but static. He cycled through them repeatedly, each time greeted by the same snowy screen and white noise. The flickering images seemed almost mocking in their failure to deliver anything useful, adding to the odd sense of disconnection that had been creeping up on him ever since he woke up feeling different.
Sighing, he set the remote down and took another bite of his breakfast, the sound of the static still echoing faintly in the background. It wasn't exactly what he had expected from a relaxing morning.
"Great, just what I need," he muttered, assuming it was a problem with the signal. Setting the remote aside, he pulled out his phone to check for updates or perhaps stream something online. As he unlocked the screen, his heart skipped a beat.
The date displayed on the top corner was seven days later than he expected.
He stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. *Seven days?* It couldn't be right. He tried to recall the last few days, but his memory was foggy, filled only with fragments of fevered dreams and flashes of pain. Had he really been out of it for a whole week?
Confusion mixed with a growing unease as he sat there, the remnants of his breakfast suddenly forgotten.
"No way..." Ryo whispered, his mind reeling. He double-checked the date, then opened his calendar app to verify. The same date stared back at him, unchanging. He had been unconscious for an entire week.
Panic gripped him as he tried to piece together what had happened. How had he survived without food or water? Why was he suddenly feeling so well after such a severe illness? His mind raced with questions, none of which had immediate answers.
He scanned the room, his eyes darting over the scattered remnants of his life before… whatever this was. His breakfast grew cold as he sat frozen in his chair, trying to comprehend the unexplainable. Every possibility seemed to lead only to more confusion.
Leaving his half-eaten meal on the table, Ryo stood up and began pacing the room, trying to make sense of the situation. The thought of being out for a whole week was unsettling, raising a plethora of concerns about what had transpired in the meantime.
He rushed to his window and looked out over the city. The skyline was unchanged, buildings standing tall and roads clear as always, yet there was something distinctly off. The usual sounds of city life—the hum of traffic, distant voices, the occasional siren—were conspicuously absent. It was as though the world had slipped into an unnatural hush.
A prickling unease crept over him as he strained his ears, but he heard nothing.
Determined to find answers, Ryo decided to venture outside. He quickly changed into fresh clothes, grabbed his phone and keys, and headed out the door. The hallway was quiet—too quiet. The usual background noise of neighbors moving about, faint conversations, or the hum of distant appliances was gone, replaced by an oppressive silence that weighed heavily on him.
As he descended the stairs, a sense of foreboding settled over him. The building, normally bustling with life, felt abandoned, as if everyone had simply vanished. Reaching the ground floor, he paused, taking a steadying breath before stepping outside.
The sunlight was blindingly bright as he emerged, momentarily disorienting him. But as his eyes adjusted, a disturbing sight unfolded before him. The streets, usually busy with pedestrians and cars, were unnaturally still. Abandoned vehicles lined the road, some with doors left open as if people had fled in haste. Trash and scattered belongings lay strewn across the sidewalk, but not a single person was in sight.
Ryo took a tentative step forward, every sense on edge. The world around him was eerily quiet, as though the city itself was holding its breath.
Shops and cafes that were usually bustling with activity were shuttered, their windows dark and lifeless. Not a single pedestrian walked the sidewalks, no cyclists sped by, and not even the distant hum of traffic broke the silence. It was as though the city had been deserted overnight, and the stillness left Ryo with a gnawing feeling of isolation—as if he were the last person left on earth.
He pulled out his phone, trying to suppress the rising dread, and dialed a few friends and family members. Every call went straight to voicemail, each unanswered ring deepening the hollow feeling in his chest. He tried sending messages, hoping for some sign of life, but none received a response. It was as if everyone he knew had vanished while he was unconscious, leaving him adrift in an unrecognizable world.
As he lowered his phone, Ryo scanned the empty streets, his mind racing with questions. Whatever had happened while he was out had changed everything—and the more he thought about it, the more he feared that things would never return to normal.
Determined to find out more, Ryo headed to the nearest grocery store, hoping for any sign of life or someone who could explain what was happening. As he approached, the automatic doors slid open, revealing an eerie interior, dimly lit and empty. The store, once full of life and noise, now stood silent, the air thick with a sense of abandonment. Shelves were in disarray, many ransacked, with items scattered across the floor, as though people had fled in haste, grabbing what they could.
Ryo cautiously wandered through the aisles, his footsteps echoing in the vast, hollow space. Occasionally, he called out, his voice breaking the heavy silence. But each time, only his own echo answered, reminding him of how alone he truly was. The deeper he ventured, the clearer it became that the store had been left like everything else—stripped of its normalcy, a place that had once served the bustling life of the city now caught in the same strange stillness. Whatever had happened had left no explanation, and Ryo was left to navigate this unsettling new reality alone.
Returning to his apartment, Ryo felt the crushing weight of isolation settle over him, heavier than any fever he'd endured. The world he knew had vanished, leaving behind a silent, hollow shell of a city, stripped of its pulse and filled only with mystery. He sat heavily on his bed, staring at his phone's screen—the date and time an unrelenting reminder of the week lost to unconsciousness, with no hint as to what had transpired in his absence.
"The fuck just happened?" he muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. "Why is the whole town... is this some kind of prank?"
But the silence, the emptiness—there was nothing staged about it.
Ryo kept running the questions over and over in his mind, each one without an answer, deepening the knot of anxiety in his chest. Where had everyone gone? Why did no one answer his calls? What could've emptied the city so completely, so silently?
He tried dialing again, this time hoping maybe someone—anyone—would pick up. But each call was met with the same eerie, endless ringing before it clicked to voicemail. He flipped through his contacts list, wondering if there was someone, anyone, who could give him an explanation, but every attempt led nowhere.
With each failed call, an uneasy realization grew within him: whatever had happened had affected *everyone*—and now, somehow, he was alone.
As darkness settled over the empty city, Ryo's resolve hardened. The questions had tormented him all day, and he knew the only way to silence them was to find the answers himself. Standing by the window, he looked out over the cityscape, its usual twinkling lights replaced by a scattered few, flickering weakly like the last breaths of something slowly dying. The silence was thick, pressing in on him from all sides, daring him to confront it.
With a deep breath, he steeled himself. If no one was here to answer him, then he would uncover the truth on his own. Whatever had happened during his lost week—whatever had taken everyone—had somehow spared him. And he was determined to learn why.