Luke's gaze remained fixed on the golden strings. All of them were moving towards him sluggishly. As long as he stayed alert, he could avoid them.
Luke sighed and slightly pursed his lips. This realization brought little comfort.
This was because the strings continued to pursue him relentlessly. Their determination seemed sentient, as if they wouldn't cease until they caught him and achieved their objective.
'Will they ever stop?' Luke thought, his mind racing. 'I can't just keep on running.'
As he evaded, he quickly grabbed his shoulder bag from the sofa and hurled it at the strings. However, the bag just passed through them, as if they were mere illusions.
Luke stared at them deeply and then fetched a knife from the kitchen and slashed one of the leading strings.
To his surprise, the knife cut cleanly through, severing the string in two. The lower portion wriggled briefly before losing its golden hue and slowly vanishing into nothingness.
Meanwhile, the upper half, still tethered to the ceiling, writhed violently, almost as if in pain.
Seeing this, Luke didn't hesitate. He slashed the remaining four golden strings before retreating from the kitchen back to the living room.
Yet, before he could feel any relief, the severed strings on the ground vanished completely, only for those above to regrow rapidly. In no time, they returned to their original length and resumed their slow, relentless advance toward him.
Luke's knife trembled in his hand as he backed into the wall, his foot brushing against the bag he had thrown earlier. His gaze flicked between the knife and the bag on the ground.
'Why did the bag pass through but the knife didn't?' He wondered, biting his lower lip in thought. 'Could it be about sharpness? Or... something else?'
He crouched down and grabbed his bag. As one of the strings drew nearer, he swung the bag again, but this time he held on tightly.
To his surprise once again, the bag didn't pass through. Instead, the string tangled briefly with it before its tip latched onto the bag.
The result startled him. He quickly threw the bag aside and dodged the other strings. He then watched as the string that had attached itself to the bag scurried away, resuming its relentless pursuit of him.
His eyes narrowed as he reflected on the difference in his earlier actions. He bit his lip more in deeper contemplation.
'It seems it's more about contact than sharpness. I didn't feel anything when the string touched my bag. So… it might be safe as long as there's no direct contact. Maybe if I let them touch something else, I can avoid playing this unending chase.'
With this thought, Luke decided to take a bolder approach. He grabbed a broom from the corner and held it up high, moving closer to the strings so they could touch its bristles.
And just as he had assumed, there was indeed a connection between contact. Once all the strings attached themselves to the bristles, their relentless pursuit finally ceased, and they no longer behaved stubbornly. Instead, something else changed.
From their tips, the wiggling strings immediately straightened. When Luke shook the broom, the strings that extended to the ceiling followed its movements obediently. No matter how vigorously he shook it, the strings remained straight and unwavering, refusing to tangle or resist.
Sensing that this change posed no immediate danger, Luke allowed himself to relax a bit but still maintained a sufficient level of caution. The strings, though momentarily subdued, were a constant reminder that the threat could return at any moment.
Fatigue weighed heavily on him. It was well past midnight, and despite having slept for at least five hours, Luke still felt groggy from fever and hunger.
For a moment, he wondered if it was all a hallucination born of illness. But the vivid, golden strings dispelled any such doubts.
They were real.
No matter how desperately he wished to escape this reality, Luke knew he had to confront it.
The questions that lingered in his mind were, 'Where did they come from? And what triggered this phenomenon?'
Luke clearly had no answers, but the urgency to find them gnawed at him. This was especially when he realized the unsettling similarity between this experience and a puppet show he had once seen at the circus.
"The strings are obviously not scientific, they're likely a product of some mystical phenomenon," Luke mused, his voice barely above a whisper.
"They're like marionette strings, controlled by an unseen puppeteer pulling the strings from above."
His eyes instantly darted toward the ceiling. A cold dread settled in his chest. 'If they touch me… will I lose myself completely?'
Gripping the broom in one hand and the knife in the other, Luke turned and moved cautiously toward the window. He drew the curtains aside just enough to peer into the night.
As expected at this hour, the street and the buildings beyond were enveloped in darkness. Only the faint glow of streetlights illuminated the area, casting eerie shadows on the deserted sidewalks.
The outside was also filled with total silence as the people at this hour were mostly in their beds, resting.
Luke glanced back at the ceiling once more before cautiously sliding the glass window open, moving as slowly and silently as possible.
Then, he carefully extended the hand holding the broom toward the opening, guiding the bristles outside.
While doing it, Luke's muscles were tensed. He didn't know if this set of actions would provoke a dangerous response.
Yet despite the fear welling within him, his expression remained calm and composed. Only the faint marks on his bitten lips revealed the nervousness simmering just beneath the surface.
As the edge of the broom made contact with the cool night air, Luke leaned closer to the window, his eyes scanning the dark expanse of the sky above.
"As expected," Luke murmured.
To his dismay, the golden strings didn't stop at the ceiling. They extended far beyond, stretching endlessly into the vast night sky.
This meant that whoever was trying to manipulate him wasn't a neighbor or an entity that he could see and fight at any time. Instead, their power might be more potent than he a mortal could ever comprehend.
Realizing this, Luke's eyes flashed as he quickly retreated from the living room window to his bedroom. There, another startling sight awaited him.
A new set of golden strings rose from the floor, stretching upward to the ceiling. However, unlike his, their golden hue was dim and almost illusory. Had Luke not observed them closely, he might have missed their presence entirely.
This could only mean one thing. The strings originated from the apartment below, specifically from his neighbor, who was likely asleep at this late hour.
This observation proved that this situation wasn't unique to him but perhaps had been present to other people as well. The only thing that made him different was he was able to see them.
"It's as if I've suddenly become self-aware…"
His whispered words faded into the darkness of the room, mingling with the oppressive silence.