The Crimson Hour

The clock never struck four.

It hung frozen at 3:59 A.M. Its second hand trembling but never moving, caught between one breath and the next. And somewhere beneath that unending silence, a pair of red eyes opened.

“A faint hum brushed against her ears, almost like wind, and she felt it tug at the edge of her senses. She lay still for a few seconds, letting the silence seep in, the kind that made even her own heartbeat sound intrusive. Then, she pushed herself, the motion deliberate.

Her name was Reina Kisaragi. Twenty-one.

A face both gentle and distant — black hair with faint streaks of crimson that shimmered under the pale blue light.

She sat at the edge of her bed, watching the curtain sway even though no wind existed anymore.

“…It’s starting again i guess,” she murmured, unsure.

The world had stilled completely. No sound of trains, no passing headlights outside, not even the low hum of her fridge. Just that soft, unnatural hum that filled the air like static. She stood up, bare feet pressing onto the cold floorboards, and walked towards the window.

Akihabara stretched outside — glowing faintly under an endless night. Every neon light hung frozen mid-flicker. “Raindrops hovered mid-air, caught as if by invisible threads.” Time itself had stopped breathing.

Reina pressed her fingers against the windowpane.

It was cold, painfully real. “Back again,” she whispered. “Lucky me.” Yay.

Anyways. 

She slipped on her jacket. Red lining, half-zipped and stepped out into the hall. Her apartment door creaked open, though she never touched the handle; it always did that when the 25th Hour began. Maybe the world just let her go, knowing she had nowhere else to be. Pretty impressive isn't it, that the door is opening by itself hehe.

The street outside was an abandoned painting.

Shops stood with their signs mid-glow. Cars mid-turn, a bird mid-flight. The air shimmered faintly, not quite fog, not quite light — like the world was underwater.

Reina shoved her hands into her pockets and started walking. Her boots made soft thuds that echoed longer than they should’ve.

She used to be scared of the silence. Used to cover her ears and count the seconds, trying to convince herself she’d wake up any moment. Now, it was just… a part of her routine. The kind of nightmare you eventually memorize.

A candy wrapper floated near her foot, stuck in mid-air. She bent down, plucked it, and read the words frozen on it — 

“Sweet Dreams Forever.” 

She laughed softly, almost bitterly. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” Then let it go again, watching it hang there, never falling.

Every corner of the city had ghosts of motion.

A child frozen in mid-step, running toward a parent who wasn’t there.

A bus driver’s hand hovering over the horn.

A drop of coffee hanging between a woman’s lips and her cup.

Every detail screamed of life, but none of it moved.

Then she saw one of them — the lanterns.

It floated a few feet above the ground, a faint yellow sphere glowing through the mist. The flame inside swirled lazily, whispering something. She curiously approached it, crouched slightly.

“…Still talking nonsense?” she asked softly.

The lantern’s voice trembled like static — young, maybe twelve, maybe ancient.

“Do you seek truth or mercy, little flame?”

Reina tilted her head. “Neither. Just quiet.”

“Quiet never answers back.”

She smiled faintly, standing up again. “I know.”

Lanterns never gave straight answers. They spoke like half-remembered dreams. Sometimes cruel, sometimes kind, always something in between. They appeared at random, in corners, in alleys, near people with heavy hearts. Sometimes she wondered if they were people once.

She walked past it and humming softly — an old lullaby she barely remembered. The sound felt strange in that empty world, kind of weirdly strange.

The further she went, the more the world warped.

“Billboards flickered between images. Mid transition, and her reflection in the shop windows lagged behind her movements, a subtle reminder that the world was watching.”

A cat was perched on a railing. Its fur mid-ruffle, eyes glowing gold but unmoving.

She cut through a narrow alley lined with vending machines, their lights a rainbow glow against the metal walls. She passed one, glancing through the glass.

All the cans inside were perfectly arranged — but one of them, a can of peach soda, was cracked open, liquid floating mid-air in tiny beads.

She pressed her finger into one — it rippled like gelatin before snapping back, unbroken.

“So physics is optional now,” she muttered.

Her reflection stared back at her from the glass — red eyes faintly glowing. For a second, she didn’t recognize herself.

A sound echoed from somewhere far away — a faint clang, like something metal falling.

Reina froze still.

Her first thought was another person. But there were so few left who could move in this hour. The rest… had vanished long ago.

Still, she turned toward it. Curiosity was a dangerous habit she couldn’t break.

The alleys were narrow here, damp and lined with old posters. She passed a cracked mirror leaning against a wall. Her reflection looked slightly off — her head tilted when she didn’t. She quickly looked away.

“Her boots splashed into a shallow puddle. The ripples streched too long, unnatural. She thought she smelled wet asphalt burning, though she knew it couldn't be.”

Somewhere far off, a clang... Drag... and a cold prickle ran up to her neck.

She took a slow breath, steadied her voice. “Probably just another one of them,” she whispered, maybe.

When she stepped back onto the main street, she saw them — others like her.

A woman in a business suit stood in the middle of the road, staring blankly at a photo in her hand.

A boy knelt near a puddle, muttering something she couldn’t catch.

A man sat beside a shattered mirror, whispering apologies to no one.

Reina didn’t speak to them. She never did. Better not to interfere with anyone. 

There was a rule — unspoken, but clear: the more you talk, the faster you fade.

She didn’t know if it was true, nor she wasn’t planning to test it.

Still, her eyes lingered on the boy — his hands shaking, tears mid-fall. She wondered who he’d lost. She wondered if she had too. The memories never came clearly, only the ache did.

“A hand went to her chest. The dull throb again. Always the same.” Always heavier in this place.

“Regret feeds the living,” the lanterns always said.

Maybe that was why she never had disappeared.

A faint cry echoed through the stillness.

Not a word — but a raw, human scream.

Reina’s head snapped up, breath hitching. She wasn’t supposed to care, not anymore. But something about the sound. The panic in it — made her move.

Her boots tapped against the empty asphalt as she turned to the corner near a convenience store. The flickering sign above it said—

OPEN 24 HOURS.

 The irony wasn’t lost on her. There, she saw movement.

Something dragging itself across the street. Not her. Not wind. A soft, wet sound — like meat scraping against pavement.

She stepped closer, heart thudding.

And then she saw it.

“A monster, or rather something that had once been a human, crawled toward the trembling figure. Its limbs twisted backwards, bones pressing through skin. Its head lolling sideways, eyes leaking blackness.”

It crawled toward a trembling figure — a young man pressed against the wall, breathing fast, clutching his side.

He looked up just as the creature loomed. His face was pale with terror.

Reina’s mouth opened slightly — though no sound came out.

The thing lunged. Gross.

“She turned away, not needing to see the rest, but she still heard it — the crunch of flesh...”

The strangled plea, the sound of blood splattering against the pavement.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand clenched into a fist, trembling against her thighs.

She muttered under her breath. She still couldn't get used to it.

The echo of that scream lingered in the still air, fading into silence again.

She opened her eyes slowly — looked down at her own shaking fingers. Tried to make them still. But they wouldn’t listen.

Her breath came shallow. For a second, she thought about walking towards the body. To check if he was still breathing. Saying something. Anything.

But then, she remembered the rule.

The more you talk, the faster you fade.

So she didn’t.

She turned her back to the blood-soaked street and walked on. Slow, quiet, steady — as if nothing happened.

Her shadow stretched long behind her, disappearing into the frozen city.

And somewhere above, a lantern flickered softly, its whisper almost kind.

“Every silence... hides a scream, crimson one,” it whispered, faint, uncertain.

Reina didn’t answer.

She just kept walking — until even the sound of her steps vanished into the hum of a world that never moved.