Chapter 1 : A Mysterious Incident

   As I was reaching the end of the crosswalk, a movement in my peripheral vision made me turn. A white van was barreling straight toward me—I was hit head-on.

   I was violently thrown forward onto the sidewalk and left breathless for several seconds. I clutched my shirt over my heart, desperately trying to breathe. 
   What happened?  I couldn't hear or see anything; my head was endlessly spinning.

   I managed to take a painful gasp of air and tried to stand up—only to find my arms giving out. 
   I was dazed, not able to think of anything. I just heard the tires of a vehicle screeching on the road—someone must’ve braked abruptly.

   Gradually, as I began to regain my senses, I realized something was off…

   Two women in their fifties cried out in concern, “Are you all right, young lady?”
   They must’ve witnessed the incident and rushed over to check if I was hurt. One of them knelt beside me and placed her hand on my shoulder. 
   “Fortunately, you were quick, or you would’ve died on the spot.”
   “What a reckless driver!” exclaimed the other, hands on her hips, glaring in the direction of the white van. It was stationary a little further away, and its driver was hurrying toward us.

   I could barely hear them; my legs were still trembling from the shock. I tried to piece together what had just happened. I nearly died! But the most unsettling part was how I survived…
   What had propelled me forward if not the vehicle? There had been no one behind me—I was certain of that.

   The two women reassured the few people who had stopped to help, explaining that I wasn’t injured. After casting a brief glance in my direction to check on me, the passersby resumed their walk—except for one person. I just noticed him, but he seemed to have been there for a while.

   I struggled to make him out, perhaps my vision was blurred by the impact with the concrete. Yet, I could clearly see the two women by my side. Strange.
   I squinted at this third presence and eventually realized that he was a young man my age—no, he must’ve been slightly older. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

   I observed him for a moment, mystified—there was nothing ordinary about him.
   For one, his hair was a white-gray. Obviously, it wasn't a sign of aging, but it didn't appear to be dyed either. It was falling disheveled over his face, and I could barely make out his striking light blue eyes—fixed on me in a keen gaze.

   I averted my eyes when I heard someone approaching behind me.
   It was the driver—a rotund man in his forties—who had nearly run me over. He stopped in front of me, doubled over, hands on his knees, and gasped hoarsely, “I’m sorry … I didn’t see you, miss … and I—” 
   “You could’ve killed her!” 
   “You’re drunk! That’s unacceptable…”

   For several minutes, the two women lectured him while shooting daggers at him and gesticulating wildly. He then rattled off a succession of apologies, explaining that he hadn’t been drinking, that his mind had been elsewhere, and that an incident like this had never happened to him before…
   By the time he finished speaking, the women had left. The young man, however, remained there, standing still.

   He’d observed the entire scene, a slight smile playing on his lips.
   Do you find this entertaining?! Now that I consider it, if someone pushed me forward at the last moment—the only possible explanation—it has to be him! He's been there for a while, most likely before the two women; and otherwise, he wouldn’t allow himself to smile like that—or he’s a total jerk. But why did nobody see him? Why did they say I avoided the van?

   I took a deep breath and decided to ask him directly:
   “Was it you ? How did you avoid that van?!”
   “Uh, who are you talking to?” replied the middle-aged man standing next to me, confused.
   That’s the last straw!
   “Hey! You’re drunk! You didn’t see me and nearly killed me, and now you can’t even notice someone standing right in front of you!”
   He seemed taken aback by my accusations, but I had neither the desire nor the energy to argue further.
   “I’m fine; you can leave now.”
   “Uh, if you say so…”
   “But stop driving after drinking!”
   “Hey! I’m telling you I wasn’t drinking!” he protested in a rising voice as he walked away.

   The young man stepped forward and declared in a soft, mesmerizing voice:
   “Don’t bother, he can’t see me. I’m an angel—and I’d like to make a pact with you.”

   I was left speechless. A drunk and a madman! I figure it’s best to play along—he might turn out dangerous.
   “Would you believe it, a fellow angel! Since you must be very busy like me, I salute you. Give my regards to, uh, God…Hail!”
   I curtsied and I immediately walked away.
   “Very funny, however, I really am an angel,” he replied with a grin, following in my footsteps.

   It wasn’t just his personality that was unsettling. I’d just noticed that his clothes—and even his body—appeared faint, grayish, and distant, as if about to vanish away. In fact, I had to constantly squint to see him clearly.
   “You’re making a funny face!” 
   Don’t talk to me like we’re some childhood friends!

   He frightened me—especially as night began to fall and we found ourselves in a deserted neighborhood. A chill ran down my spine as I imagined him assaulting me. Truth be told, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were a psychopath or even a serial killer.

   With no one in sight to help me and nowhere to take refuge, I decided to lose him. After all, I knew the area well—and thanks to always being in a rush, I’d developed quite the stamina.
   Silently, I bolted.
   “Hey wait!” he cried in panic.

   Five minutes later, I arrived at my apartment. I went onto the second floor outdoor corridor, and leaned against the sandy-beige roughcast wall, next to my door, to catch my breath.

   It was a large old house that had been renovated into a six-unit apartment block—three condos per floor, each for single occupancy. An outdoor central staircase led straight to my door. Although the building stood in a modest, low-income district, it was newly built and conveniently close to the city center. My uncle owned the apartment and had lent it to me for the duration of my studies. Around the house stretched a small park, the house’s original garden, offering welcome freshness, peace—and mosquitos. 
   I’d lived here for two years and grown fond of its rustic warmth, a soothing contrast to the city’s concrete and noise.

   “Phew! I’m exhausted, but at least I—”
   “Wow! Is that your place? Do you live alone?”
   He was calmly ascending the steps to my apartment, hands in his pockets—he hadn’t broken a sweat! 
   He wasn’t looking at me, he just casted interested glances around the place.

    After his break-in, the place felt violated—every cozy corner tainted. That psychopath ruined everything!

   With the little strength I’d left, I cried : 
   “Help!”
   I desperately tried to reach my door, but, in a heartbeat he grabbed my arm and clamped his hand over my mouth. His grip was firm, I couldn’t move or call out for assistance.
    “What are you doing? I saved your life! And don’t you remember this morning? You crashed into me.”
   Huh?!

   That’s when it dawned on me, why I felt I’d seen him before—I’v been so stressed and rushed that I hadn’t paid attention to him.
   Everything became clear now: he wanted revenge!

   Suddenly, the door on our right opened. A woman in her thirties stepped out, and with her came a whiff of cigarette smoke. Her black eyes, ringed from insomnia, were framed by sleek hair of the same hue—both features highlighted by her fair skin. Her melancholic and distant look carried a fragile serenity that inspired trust.

   While rubbing one of her eyes, she mumbled in a husky voice, “What’s going on here?”

   The young man cast a cold sideways glance toward my neighbor and abruptly released me.
I nearly fell backward but managed to catch myself against the wall.

   “Is there a problem, Naomi?”

   Night had fallen, and the only light on the corridor came from her apartment through its ajar door. After coming from a lit room, she probably couldn’t make out what was happening in the dim twilight.

   “So your name is Naomi… I’m Val. It’s true that I haven’t introduced myself,” he said, turning slightly toward me with a sly smile.
   “Ms. Vidal, he’s dangerous! Be careful! Call the police!” I screamed, my voice high and trembling. It started her, she took a step backward and opened her eyes wide.
   I thought I was saved—yet things did not unfold as expected. Not only did Val not flee, but he exhaled in exasperation, his head swinging side to side. Lilith—Ms.Vidal first name—turned, perplexed, in the direction I’d indicated.
   “Naomi, I’m really not in the mood for jokes,” she said, frowning.

   Val then advanced toward Lilith, who paid him no mind and kept looking at me. They were about to collide when, suddenly—to my astonishment—he passed right through.