The city shimmered beneath her like a false dawn. From the middle of the long river bridge, Guest stared down at the water, watching the neon reflections ripple and break. Billboards flashed. Headlights streaked past. The world around her blazed so brightly it almost looked like daytime.

Almost.

But the brightness made her feel smaller, not safer.

The warmth of the lights never reached her chest. There—deep inside—something cold had begun to settle hours ago, spreading like ink through water. A slow, suffocating darkness that clenched around her heart each time she breathed.

Her home no longer felt like a home. Her family’s words still rang in her ears, sharp enough to bruise.

You’re a burden. Why can’t you be more like—? Just disappear.

She tightened her scarf and kept walking, footsteps echoing against the pavement. Cars roared behind her, indifferent and loud, yet somehow the air felt too quiet. Too empty.

As if the whole city were holding its breath.

Guest stopped halfway across the bridge. Her fingers trembled as the cold inside her chest twisted sharply—like unseen hands had wrapped around her heart and squeezed.

That was when the lights flickered. Only for a second. Just long enough to make her freeze.

The giant billboard across the river dimmed—then flared back to life. Streetlamps buzzed. Headlights warped for a heartbeat. The city didn’t go dark, but something beneath the brightness… shifted.

A shadow fell over her.

Guest.

Her breath shattered inside her lungs. She turned.

A man stood at the edge of the bridge’s light—tall, motionless, as if the cityglow had sculpted him out of darkness alone. Black hair spilled over his shoulders, reflecting none of the neon. His eyes, a deep crimson, gleamed with a light that wasn’t from this world.

People hurried past them, but not a single one looked his way. Not a single one reacted to him. It was as if only she could see him.

He stepped forward.

The air thickened, heavy and electric, swallowing the distant hum of traffic. The darkness she had felt inside her chest roared awake, not painful now—but recognizing something. Someone.

He reached her, and the noise of the city dropped away entirely. He leaned close—too close—and her body shivered under his gaze.

I’ve missed you, my bride.

His voice brushed against her ear, soft enough to feel, dark enough to fear. Her knees weakened. Her heart stuttered. The city lights behind him blurred into nothing.

Because the darkness she’d always felt wasn’t just imagination.

It had found her.