Lyos Lever woke to the sound of rain against his window-a steady, persistent tapping that seemed to echo the unease in his chest. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his mind to catch up, but the familiar fog was still there. The memory gap from the night before yawned wide and empty.

  He sat up slowly, feeling the stiffness in his body. The clock read 07:12. He’d overslept, something he never did. His phone was buzzing with notifications: missed calls from Liora, a terse message from Soren-“Call me. Urgent.”-and a news alert about another political assassination. The city felt on edge, and so did he.

  Lyos shuffled to the bathroom, pausing at the mirror. For a moment, his own reflection seemed to hesitate, lagging a half-second behind his movements. He blinked, and the illusion vanished, but a chill lingered. He leaned closer, searching his face for clues. There was a faint bruise on his jaw, a mark he didn’t remember getting.

  He dressed quickly, mind racing. The events of yesterday replayed in fragments: the board meeting, Liora’s wary glance, Soren’s questions, the cryptic text-Did you mean to do it?-and the bloodstain on his cuff. He checked his shirt from last night. The stain was gone, but a faint outline remained, as if scrubbed in haste.

  Downstairs, the city was already alive with sirens and hurried footsteps. Lyos kept his head down, feeling watched. At the foundation office, tension hung thick in the air. Liora was waiting by the entrance, arms folded.

  “You look like hell,” she said quietly.

  “Didn’t sleep,” Lyos replied, forcing a smile.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  She didn’t return it. “We need to talk. Privately.”

  They found an empty conference room. Liora closed the door behind them and turned, her expression hard. “Where were you last night, Lyos? After you left the meeting.”

  He hesitated. “I went home. I think. I don’t remember much after that.”

  She studied him, searching for a lie. “There was another incident. Downtown. Another politician. The security footage is…strange. It glitches out for exactly twenty-six minutes. And you were seen near the scene.”

  Lyos felt the world tilt. “I don’t remember being there.”

  Liora’s eyes softened, just a little. “I want to believe you. But you have to tell me if something’s wrong. If you’re in trouble.”

  He shook his head, helpless. “I wish I knew.”

  She slid a folder across the table. Inside were grainy photos: Lyos, or someone who looked just like him, walking into a building at the exact time of the attack. In one frame, he was looking straight at the camera, eyes cold and empty.

  Lyos’s hands shook. “I don’t remember this. I swear.”

  Liora nodded, but her doubt was clear. “I’m on your side, Lyos. But you need to figure out what’s happening to you. Before someone else gets hurt.”

  After she left, Lyos sat in the empty room, staring at the photos. He tried to force the memories to surface, but there was only the familiar fog. He pressed his palms to his eyes, willing the headache away.

  A sudden vibration startled him. Another text, from the same unknown number:

  You’re getting closer. Don’t trust the mirrors.

  Lyos’s breath caught. He glanced at the glass wall of the conference room. For a split second, he thought he saw his reflection smirk.

  He hurried out, heart pounding.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. Soren called, voice tense. “Meet me tonight. Old city, after dark. Don’t tell anyone.” Before Lyos could answer, Soren hung up.

  That evening, Lyos made his way through rain-slicked streets to the old city. Shadows stretched long between the broken streetlights. Soren was waiting in a deserted plaza, coat pulled tight against the cold.

  “You’re not safe,” Soren said without preamble. “Someone’s framing you. Or…something. I’ve seen patterns like this before. Missing time, strange behavior, people acting like puppets. It’s not just you.”

  Lyos shivered. “What are you saying?”

  Soren looked at him, eyes haunted. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. And you need to be ready for the truth, whatever it is.”

  As Lyos left the plaza, he caught his reflection in a shop window. For a moment, it lingered, lips curling into a cold, knowing smile-one he knew he hadn’t made.

  He turned away, pulse racing, and hurried into the night, the city’s lights flickering behind him.