Arin woke up with a start, his body stiff from the awkward position he'd fallen into on the bed. The sunlight filtered through the cracks in the walls, casting warm streaks across the room. For a moment, he lay still, trying to shake off the remnants of a strange, unsettling dream about glowing crystals and shadowy figures.
He rubbed his eyes and stretched, then groggily made his way to the small window. The city was already bustling outside, the sounds of the street reaching him. He yawned, his mind still foggy from the night's events.
Something was off, though. He glanced around, blinking a few times. The room looked exactly as it always did, but...
He looked down at himself and froze.
His legs. His arms. His hands. They were there. He could see them. Everything was exactly how it should be—at least, from his perspective. But...
When he turned his head to the cracked mirror on the wall, his heart skipped a beat.
There was no reflection.
He turned again. His body was visible to him, his limbs solid and real, but the mirror showed... nothing. No reflection. Just the empty room behind him.
"What the hell...?" Arin whispered, voice shaking. He reached out and touched his face, feeling the warm skin of his cheek beneath his fingertips. He was definitely real. He could feel everything, his heartbeat, his breath, but the reflection...
"Am I... invisible?" His voice cracked as the thought struck him. Panic surged through him. He ran to the window, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. People were walking by, laughing, talking, moving about their day—but no one looked in his direction.
Arin pressed his hand against the glass, then knocked on it. They still can't see me. His reflection was nowhere in the window either. He could feel his hand on the cold surface, but nothing else reacted to his presence.
A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. "Am I... dead? Is this what it's like to be a ghost?"
He pulled back from the window, disoriented, his mind racing. He turned away, pacing in circles. He could still feel the ground beneath his feet, hear his own breath, but the world around him felt so... distant. His body existed, but somehow he wasn't part of the world.
In a moment of panic, he slammed his hand down onto the wooden table. The sound of his hand striking the surface echoed through the room.
From outside, a voice shouted. "What was that noise?"
Arin froze. Someone had heard him. I'm not dead. I can still make noise.
Relief washed over him, though the dread still lingered. He wasn't a ghost, but... what was happening?
A new thought struck him, his eyes widening with fear. What if this is permanent? What if I'm stuck like this forever?
He had no idea how to reverse whatever had happened. There were too many questions and no answers.
Arin walked slowly back into the room, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and unease. He looked around, trying to find something, anything, to ground himself back in reality. The idea of being invisible permanently was both terrifying and... strangely exciting.
He stood still for a moment, breathing deeply. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes, focusing. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but maybe... just maybe, if he concentrated, he could reverse whatever had happened.
He imagined his body becoming visible again. Come on, focus. He thought about his form, about seeing himself clearly again, in front of the mirror.
For a moment, nothing changed. But then...
Arin felt the air shift. He opened his eyes, almost afraid to look, and saw his reflection once again. His outline, his features, everything was visible in the mirror. He was himself again—physically.
A relieved laugh escaped his lips. "It worked. I'm visible again."
Arin touched his face, feeling the solid shape of his features, his eyes twinkling in the reflection. He had made it happen. He wasn't invisible anymore. At least, not at that moment.
Arin spent the next few hours experimenting, learning to control his power. At first, it was unpredictable—his body flickered in and out of visibility, but as time passed, he grew more adept at turning invisible at will and becoming visible again with ease. The control came quicker than he expected. He found a rhythm to it, like learning to move in a new space, and soon he could slip in and out of sight whenever he chose.
It was exhilarating, and Arin quickly realized the possibilities of what he could do.
Money.
That was what he needed. He had the power, but he didn't have the means. He needed to make something of this, something more than the cramped slum apartment he called home.
The idea came to him almost instantly—Raul.
Raul was a local gangster with a large mansion on the outskirts of the city. Everyone knew he had money, lots of it. His mansion was filled with treasures, but what interested Arin most was the safe in his office. Raul kept his money there, behind layers of security. Arin knew he'd never be able to get it any other way, but with his newfound power, things were different.
With nothing but his backpack and his mind focused, Arin set out.
The night was quiet as he approached the mansion. Raul's mansion was heavily guarded, but it didn't matter. Arin moved like a shadow, unseen, as he slipped through the perimeter fence and into the yard.
The guards didn't see him as he passed them, nor did they hear the soft rustling of his footsteps on the gravel path. He moved swiftly, quietly, like he was part of the night itself.
At the back of the mansion, he found an unguarded door. He slipped inside, the cold marble floors of the mansion stretching out in front of him. The house was quiet, only the faint hum of distant voices and movement in the hallways. Arin's heart raced, but he knew there was no turning back now.
He made his way down the long hallway, past the grand staircase, and toward the office. He knew the layout of the house, and he knew exactly where Raul kept his cash.
He reached the office door and, using his invisibility, walked straight through it. Inside, the room was dark, with a single lamp illuminating a desk stacked with paperwork. The large safe on the far wall was exactly where he'd imagined it to be.
Arin approached the safe, his hand trembling slightly as he retrieved the combination Raul had once carelessly mentioned to one of his associates. The lock clicked open with a satisfying sound. Inside, stacks of cash lay waiting. He grabbed a few bundles, stuffed them into his backpack, and turned to leave.
As he moved toward the door, he froze. He heard footsteps.
A guard was coming down the hallway. Arin held his breath and stayed completely still, pressing himself into the corner of the room. The guard passed by, oblivious. Once the footsteps faded, he exhaled in relief.
Arin quickly retraced his steps, moving as quietly as he had entered. He slipped out of the house the same way he came in—through the back door, past the guards, and out into the night.
By the time he was back on the street, the weight of the cash in his bag felt real. He was invisible to the world—at least for now—and no one had noticed him. He had what he came for.