Chapter 3 " Don't Stare "

“You’ve been told not to stare, haven’t you? Elders always know best. But some habits die hard, and some eyes don’t look away. Poor Suyo, you should have listened…”

Suyo Kimura, a 17-year-old high school junior, sprawled on his bed, scrolling through his phone at 10:00 p.m. 

His bedroom was a mess clothes strewn across the floor, manga stacked haphazardly on his desk. Suyo had a problem: he stared. 

Not on purpose, but his eyes would lock onto people classmates, strangers, even his teachers until they squirmed or snapped at him. 

He didn’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable; it was like his gaze had a mind of its own, drawn to faces, movements, details. 

His friends called it creepy, but Suyo couldn’t stop. Tonight, bored and avoiding homework, he noticed something on his desk 

A book, old and leather-bound, its cover etched with twisting branches that seemed to writhe in the lamplight. No title, no author. 

He didn’t own it, didn’t remember seeing it before. Had his sister left it as a prank? Unlikely she was away at college.

Curiosity tugged at him. Suyo tossed his phone aside and grabbed the book. It was heavier than it looked, its cover cool but pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat. 

The first few pages were missing, torn out with jagged edges, leaving only a faint stain like dried blood. 

He shrugged and flipped to the first intact page 

Chapter 3: Don’t Stare at Him. The text was handwritten, the ink uneven, as if scratched into the paper with a claw. 

A faint smell of ash and damp wood clung to the pages. Suyo, a fan of horror games, grinned. “This looks intense,” he muttered, settling back to read.

Some habits are dangerous. I learned that the hard way. I stare at people not to be rude, but because I can’t help it. My eyes latch on, studying every detail, every twitch. 

One night, in my bedroom, I saw him. He stood in the corner, where the shadows pooled like ink. 

Just two glowing eyes, bright as dying stars, and a smile playful at first, like a child’s, all teeth and innocence. 

I thought it was sleep paralysis, a trick of my tired mind. But my habit took over. I stared. The longer I looked, the worse it got. 

His smile stretched, splitting his face until it was all teeth, jagged and too many. 

His eyes flared, pulsing with a sickly yellow light that burned into me. The air grew heavy, thick with the smell of ash and something sour, like rotting fruit. 

The room dimmed, my lamp flickering as if afraid. After five minutes, he was no longer playful. 

His form twisted limbs too long, body jerking like a broken puppet. I wanted to scream, to look away, but my eyes wouldn’t obey. 

Then I realized I could move. I blinked, and he lunged, his smile swallowing the world. Now, I’m trapped in his gaze, forever staring into eyes that never blink.

Suyo closed the book, his heart pounding. “That’s… messed up,” he said, forcing a laugh. The story felt too close his name, his staring habit, his bedroom. 

A coincidence, sure, but an eerie one. He glanced at the clock: 10:15 p.m. His room felt too quiet, the shadows in the corners too dark. 

The book seemed to hum faintly, its pages rustling though no breeze touched them. 

Suyo shoved it under a pile of manga, trying to shake the unease. “Just a story,” he told himself, turning off the lamp and climbing into bed.Sleep wouldn’t come. 

His eyes darted to the desk, half-expecting the book to be back on top. The room felt colder, the air thick with that same ashy smell from the book. 

At 10:30 p.m., a faint glow caught his eye. In the corner of his bedroom, where the shadows clung thickest, two points of light flickered yellow, unblinking, like dying stars. 

Below them, a smile curled, all teeth, too wide for a human face. Suyo’s breath caught, his body frozen. Sleep paralysis, he thought, clinging to logic. 

But his habit kicked in. He stared.The smile widened, splitting into a jagged maw. The eyes pulsed, their light searing into him. 

The air grew suffocating, the smell of ash choking. Suyo’s fingers twitched he could move. Panic surged, but his eyes stayed locked on the entity. 

Its form shifted, limbs stretching, jerking like a marionette cut loose. A low chuckle filled the room, not from the entity but from the book, now open on his desk, its pages glowing faintly. 

“You shouldn’t have looked, Suyo. He likes it when you stare.”

Suyo tore his gaze away, heart hammering, and scrambled back, knocking over a glass. It shattered, the sound deafening. 

The entity’s smile vanished, its eyes flaring brighter. The shadows in the room twisted, reaching for him like claws. 

Suyo squeezed his eyes shut, praying it was a dream. 

When he opened them, the corner was empty but the book was still open, a new line scrawled in fresh ink 

"You looked away this time. But he’s still watching."