A normal day again?

The knocking stopped.

Then... silence.

Vany was still hiding in the bathroom, knees pulled to her chest. Her breathing was shallow, but her heart pounded like a drum. She knew Maros hadn’t left. She could feel it—his presence lingering like a shadow glued to the walls.

The floor creaked softly.

Footsteps.

Vany (thinking): He’s inside. He’s looking for me. I have to stay still. Don’t move. Don’t speak.

Wooden boards shifted. A cabinet opened. A chair scraped. Maros was searching—slowly, patiently, like a child savoring a game.

Maros (from the living room, voice light): “Van... you’re really good at hiding, huh? But I’m about to win.”

Vany held her breath. She could hear the steps getting closer. Slower. More deliberate.

Then... the clock chimed.

Morning.

Sunlight began to slip through the cracks in the window. The crystal on the wall glowed softly, signaling the start of the day.

Maros’s footsteps stopped.

Maros (flat tone, a little disappointed): “Well... time’s up. I have to go.”

He walked toward the door, unlocking it with calm precision.

Maros (before leaving, cheerful): “Don’t forget, Van. The hide-and-seek isn’t over. We’ll continue tonight.”

The door closed.

Vany remained in the bathroom, trembling. But it wasn’t fear anymore—it was confusion.

Vany (thinking): Where does he go every morning?

Outside, Maros’s footsteps faded. The world returned to quiet. But the game was far from finished.

As soon as Maros left, Vany scrambled out of the bathroom. Her face was pale, but her movements were swift. She had to get ready. The workday at Pagos didn’t care about last night’s psychological hide-and-seek.

She washed up, changed clothes, and rushed out the door. Her mind was still spinning: Why was Maros so calm? Did he forget? Or was it all intentional?

When she arrived at Pagos, everything was as usual—machines humming, the scent of coffee and metal in the air, coworkers immersed in their routines.

And there he was.

Maros.

Already seated at his desk, dressed neatly, a faint smile on his face. He greeted Vany with a casual nod, as if they were just ordinary colleagues.

Maros (cheerfully): “Morning, Van. You look tired. Didn’t sleep well?”

Vany (hesitant, trying to sound normal): “Uh... yeah. A bit.”

Maros chuckled softly and turned back to his screen. No tension. No trace of last night’s strange encounter. Just calm professionalism.

Vany (thinking): He’s acting like nothing happened. Is this normal for him? Or is this part of something bigger?

Throughout the day, Maros remained perfectly composed—friendly, efficient, even cracking light jokes with other coworkers. But to Vany, every gesture felt rehearsed. She started watching him closely: the way he typed, the way he stared at the screen, even how he held his coffee mug.

Everything felt... too controlled.

The day went on like any other.

Vany sat at her desk, flanked by Alice—who was busy typing up client reports—and Maros, who looked... perfectly fine. Calm. Focused. Occasionally smiling. As if last night had never happened.

Alice asked about a spreadsheet, Maros answered with his usual composed tone, and Vany nodded along. Her body was working, but her mind was drifting.

Vany (thinking): Was it all just a hallucination?

She glanced at Maros. He was jotting something down, his expression neutral. No trace of the game. No tension. No... darkness.

Vany (thinking): If it was just a hallucination... why did it feel so real?

Alice handed her a document. Vany signed it without reading. The world around her moved like clockwork—printers humming, phones ringing, laughter from the next cubicle. But to Vany, it all felt like a simulation too perfectly choreographed.

She started noticing the tiniest details: the rhythm of Maros’s footsteps, the way Alice said his name, even the flicker of the office lights. Everything... too synchronized.

Vany (thinking): If this is reality, why do I feel like a character in someone else’s story?

Pagos was closed for the night.

The lights had dimmed, the background music was off, and the atmosphere had settled into a calm, post-shift rhythm. Vany, Alice, and Maros were tidying up—packing away empty bottles, wiping down tables, stacking glasses.

Alice was cleaning the liquor shelf, while Vany dried a row of glasses with a clean cloth. Maros, at the far end of the bar, was arranging bottles with a kind of precision that felt... ceremonial.

Vany glanced at him, then leaned slightly toward Alice.

Vany (softly, almost whispering): “Hey, Lis... do you think Maros is... weird?”

Alice paused, raising an eyebrow.

Alice: “Weird how?”

Vany: “I mean... he’s too calm. Too neat. Sometimes I feel like he’s not... normal.”

Alice chuckled, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her voice.

Alice: “He’s definitely different. But he’s never caused trouble. Always on time, never angry, never... wrong.”

Vany stared at the glass in her hand. Her reflection shimmered faintly on its surface.

Vany (thinking): And that’s exactly what scares me.

Alice went back to wiping the shelf, as if the conversation had ended. But for Vany, the question had only just begun.