Evelyn Mercer

***** 11:48 PM | Rooftop of Blackwood & Co. Books, Seattle*****

The rain didn’t care that I was dying.

It kept falling like it had nowhere else to be.

I stood on the rooftop of the bookstore, soaked through my hoodie, fingers curled around the rusted railing like it could stop me from tipping into something worse than falling.

Seattle below looked soft from up here.

Pretty lights. Busy roads. People pretending tomorrow mattered.

I laughed under my breath.

“Three months,” I said out loud.

My voice got swallowed immediately by the wind.

“Three months and I’m supposed to… what? Fight? Smile? Do chemo until I rot politely?”

My chest tightened as if my body wanted to remind me it was still involved in this conversation.

I pressed my palm there.

Still me. Still breaking.

Below, a car honked. Somewhere far away, someone’s life kept going like mine wasn’t paused at the edge of extinction.

I leaned forward slightly.

Not enough to fall.

Just enough to feel the idea of it.

“I don’t want this,” I whispered.

The rain hit harder, like it agreed.

My throat tightened.

And then it happened, like something inside me finally snapped clean instead of bending.

“I want everything to end.”

I said it louder this time.

Not careful. Not poetic. Not meaningful.

Just honest.

The wind stopped for half a second.

That was the first wrong thing.

The second wrong thing was the silence that followed it.

No rain sound.

No city hum.

No distant traffic.

Just absence.

My fingers tightened on the railing.

“…Okay,” I muttered, suddenly less drunk and more aware of how stupid I sounded. “That’s enough melodrama for tonight.”

I turned.

And the air shifted.

Not like wind.

Like pressure.

Like the world had just remembered it was being watched.

Behind me, the rooftop door clicked.

Once.

Slow.

Deliberate.

I froze.

That sound didn’t belong here. No one came up here. Mina had the only key, and she was still downstairs pretending I was fine.

Another click.

Closer.

I turned fully now.

The rooftop door was open.

And someone stood in it.

A man.

Tall.

Black coat soaked with rain that didn’t seem to touch him properly anymore. Like water forgot how to stay on him.

His presence didn’t feel like “someone arrived.”

It felt like the air had been corrected.

Wrongness adjusted into something controlled.

And then I saw his eyes.

Gold.

Not reflective. Not glowing like cheap fantasy.

Just… certain.

Like they already knew what I was going to say before I said it.

My breath caught.

“…You’re lost,” I said automatically, because my brain needed something normal to hold onto.

He stepped onto the rooftop.

No hesitation.

No scanning the environment.

No reaction to the rain or the height or the fact that this was objectively insane.

Just movement.

Minimal.

Precise.

Like every step had already been decided before time started.

He stopped a few feet from me.

Close enough that I could feel the temperature shift.

Not cold.

Not warm.

Just… wrong in a way my body understood before my mind did.

His gaze landed on me.

Held.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t soften.

Didn’t rush.

And then he spoke.

Low voice. Controlled. Like sound itself had been trimmed down to its essential form.

“I heard your wish.”

My stomach dropped.

“…That’s not funny,” I said, but it came out weaker than I wanted.

His expression didn’t change.

“I wasn’t attempting humor.”

A pause.

The kind that felt heavy instead of empty.

Then.

“The world will not end.”

I blinked hard.

“…What?”

He tilted his head slightly. Barely noticeable.

“A reckless statement made under intoxication does not qualify as binding invocation.”

I stared at him.

My brain tried to pick a category for him and failed.

Stalker? Hallucination? Extremely expensive serial killer?

Nothing fit.

I forced a laugh.

“Okay. Great. So I’m hallucinating judgmental rain demon now. Perfect.”

His eyes didn’t move.

“You are not hallucinating.”

That was said like a correction.

Not reassurance.

Correction.

My fingers loosened slightly from the railing.

“Right. Sure. So what are you then?”

Silence.

He looked at me like the answer was already obvious.

Then he said:

“Kairen Vale.”

Just a name.

No introduction. No explanation. No emotional weight.

But somehow it made the air feel tighter.

I swallowed.

“Okay, Kairen Vale. Are you here to scare me into… what? Not saying dumb stuff on rooftops?”

His gaze dropped briefly.

Not to my face.

To my chest.

Then back up.

“I am here because you summoned something you do not understand.”

My skin went cold.

“I didn’t summon anything,” I said quickly.

A faint pause.

“You did.”

He took one step closer.

The space between us shrank, and with it, the feeling that I was in control of anything at all.

“The Higher Realm does not respond to noise,” he continued. “It responds to intent.”

My throat tightened.

I tried to steady my voice.

“Intent? I was drunk. I was tired. I was…” I exhaled sharply. “I was dying.”

Something flickered in his expression.

Not sympathy.

Recognition.

Like he had filed that under a category.

“Then your intent is noted,” he said simply.

I shook my head.

“No, no, no….this is insane. I want you to leave.”

He didn’t move.

“I cannot grant your wish.”

That stopped me.

“…Grant it?” I repeated slowly.

His gaze sharpened slightly.

“You asked for the end of the world.”

The words hit differently when he said them.

Not like a memory.

Like evidence.

My mouth went dry.

“That’s not…. I didn’t mean….”

“I know.”

That was immediate.

Calm.

Certain.

“You did not mean it in a structured sense. But meaning is irrelevant. The Higher Realm only listens to what is offered sincerely.”

I let out a shaky breath.

“This is a joke,” I said again, but softer now. Less conviction.

He stepped closer again.

Now he was too close.

Not touching.

But close enough that my body registered danger before my thoughts could argue.

“The world will not end for you,” he said quietly.

Then added:

“And you will not die on a rooftop from a wish you do not understand.”

My chest tightened.

“How do you even know that?” I snapped.

His eyes held mine.

Because I said I was dying.

Because I am.

Because I am already halfway gone and he can see it in the way I stand too still like I’m trying not to collapse.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he said:

“I observe patterns.”

A pause.

“You are not the first human to suffer.”

That should’ve been comforting.

It wasn’t.

Because he said it like he had watched all of them.

And none of them mattered enough to remember.

My voice dropped.

“So what… you’re here to tell me I’m pathetic in person?”

A beat.

Then.

“You are inefficient,” he corrected.

Not cruel.

Not mocking.

Just factual.

That somehow hurt more.

I looked away first.

Rain hit my face again, finally loud again, like the world remembered how to exist.

I laughed once.

Small.

Broken.

“Great. Even demons have performance reviews now.”

Silence.

Then his voice again.

Calmer than the storm.

“You will be given forty days.”

I looked back at him.

“…Forty days for what?”

His gaze didn’t shift.

“To determine what you actually desire.”

My brows pulled together.

“What I… I already told you what I want.”

“No.”

That single word cut clean through everything.

“You expressed collapse. Not desire.”

My grip tightened again on the railing.

“You don’t know me.”

A pause.

Then.

“I do.”

My stomach twisted.

“That’s creepy.”

“Accurate,” he corrected again.

I exhaled sharply through my nose.

“Okay, Kairen Vale from the Creepy Accuracy Department, what happens in forty days?”

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

“If you fail to produce a genuine wish,” he said, voice lowering slightly.

“Your soul will belong to me.”

The rooftop suddenly felt smaller.

The city below suddenly felt farther away.

I stared at him.

“…My soul,” I repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

I let out a short laugh.

Because what else do you do when reality breaks?

“That’s not how anything works.”

“It is how this works.”

He said it like gravity.

Final.

Unarguable.

A gust of wind hit the rooftop.

My hair stuck to my face.

I wiped it away, breathing harder now.

“This is insane,” I whispered.

His gaze shifted slightly downward again.

Not my face this time.

My arm.

My sleeve.

I followed his eyes.

There was blood there.

Not fresh.

Not dramatic.

Just… there.

Old hospital stain I forgot to wash off.

His expression didn’t change.

But he moved.

Fast.

Not rushed.

Just decisive.

His hand reached into his coat and pulled something out.

A small container.

My pill box.

I froze.

“…Hey…” I started.

He opened it.

Looked at it.

Then closed it again.

No judgment.

No emotion.

Just assessment.

“You are not taking them correctly.”

My brain stalled.

“Excuse me?”

He looked at me.

Still calm.

Still controlled.

“You are skipping doses.”

That landed harder than anything else tonight.

Because it wasn’t supernatural.

It was observant.

Too observant.

“I don’t need a stranger monitoring my meds,” I said sharply.

He didn’t react.

Instead, he stepped closer again.

And for the first time, I felt it clearly:

Not fear.

Pressure.

Like the space around him obeyed him more than it obeyed physics.

He placed the pill box on the rooftop ledge beside me.

Then his fingers lightly touched my sleeve.

Barely contact.

But enough that I went still.

His voice lowered slightly.

“You are deteriorating faster than expected.”

My breath caught.

“What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary.

Then he said:

“I will return.”

I scoffed immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

He turned slightly.

Already leaving.

“I did not ask for permission.”

That should’ve sounded arrogant.

It didn’t.

It sounded like fact.

He paused at the rooftop door.

Just once.

Looked back at me.

Gold eyes steady.

And then.

“You have forty days, Evelyn Mercer.”

My name.

Said correctly.

Like he had always known it.

The wind shifted again.

And he was gone.

The rooftop door closed.

Click.

Silence returned.

But not the same silence.

This one felt… watched.

I stood there for a long time.

Rain soaking through everything.

My hand slowly reached for the pill box he left behind.

Still warm.

Impossible.

And for the first time tonight.9

I realized the worst part wasn’t that he appeared.

It was the certainty in his voice when he said:

I will return.

Evelyn Mercer

***** 06:12 AM | Blackwood & Co. Books, Seattle*****

I woke up like something had been switched off inside me.

Not peacefully.

More like someone yanked a wire out of a machine mid-function.

My throat was dry, my head heavy, and my chest… still doing that thing where it forgot how to behave like a normal body part.

For a few seconds, I just lay there staring at the ceiling.

Grey. Familiar. Cheap paint cracking at the corners.

Normal.

That word felt fake.

Because I remembered him.

The rooftop.

The gold eyes.

The way the air changed like reality had been adjusted for his arrival.

I sat up too fast and regretted it immediately.

A cough ripped through me.

Sharp.

Wet.

I pressed my fist to my mouth until it stopped.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “No more rooftop drinking. No more emotional spiraling. No more….”

My sentence died when I noticed something on the floor.

A small black box.

My pill organizer.

I froze.

Slowly, I reached for it.

My fingers hesitated before touching it, like it might disappear or bite me.

It was real.

Neatly opened.

Every compartment filled correctly.

I stared at it.

“…No,” I whispered.

I had left it half-empty yesterday.

I knew I had.

I sat up fully now, heartbeat dragging itself awake.

My eyes scanned the room.

Nothing broken.

Nothing moved.

No footprints. No signs of forced entry.

Just silence.

Too clean.

My voice came out low.

“This is not funny.”

The room didn’t answer.

Of course it didn’t.

I swung my legs off the bed, ignoring the dizziness trying to pull me back down.

I picked up the pill box again.

Cold now.

Like it had been waiting.

“Hallucination,” I said firmly. “Stress hallucination. Brain tumor bonus feature. Great.”

I swallowed the pills anyway.

Because whether it was real or not didn’t matter.

I still had three months to die properly.

*****07:48 AM | Blackwood & Co. Books – Staff Entrance*****

The bookstore smelled like old paper and damp wood.

Safe smell.

Predictable smell.

I liked it because it didn’t remind me I was breaking apart.

Mina was already behind the counter, aggressively rearranging bookmarks like she could fix the universe through organization.

“You look worse,” she said immediately.

I dropped my bag. “Good morning to you too.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious, Eve.”

“I’m alive,” I said. “That counts as improvement.”

She walked closer, studying my face like she was trying to read a warning label.

“You didn’t sleep.”

“I did.”

“That was not sleep. That was emotional buffering.”

I leaned on the counter. “I hate how accurate you are sometimes.”

Mina opened her mouth again.

The door chimed.

We both turned.

A man entered.

Everything changed.

Not dramatically.

Not like lightning or music.

Just… pressure.

The air tightened slightly, like the room had become aware of something it didn’t like.

Tall.

Black coat.

Same as last night.

Kairen Vale.

He didn’t look around like normal people do.

He just entered and stopped.

Still.

Controlled.

Like movement was optional and unnecessary.

Mina immediately stepped in front of me.

“Who the hell are you?” she snapped.

His gaze shifted to her.

Not hostile.

Not interested.

Just acknowledging.

“You are irrelevant,” he said calmly.

Mina blinked once.

“…Excuse me?”

I stepped forward. “Hey…don’t talk to her like that.”

His eyes moved to me.

That was worse.

Because it felt like being measured without consent.

“I said I would return,” he said.

My stomach tightened.

“You also said a lot of weird things,” I replied quickly. “Like soul ownership and forty-day contracts and…”

A pause.

“You are still deteriorating,” he said.

Mina glanced between us. “Eve… what is this guy talking about?”

I forced a laugh. “Nothing. He’s… lost.”

Kairen didn’t react.

Instead, he looked past me.

At the shelves behind.

Books.

Rows of them.

Then.

A subtle shift.

The nearest shelf groaned.

One book slid out.

Hit the floor.

Then another.

Mina flinched. “What the…”

More books fell.

Not randomly.

Not chaotic.

Like something was loosening its grip on structure.

Kairen’s gaze sharpened slightly.

That was it.

No anger.

No warning.

Just… pressure increase.

The air felt heavier.

The shelves creaked again.

I stepped forward quickly. “Okay…stop…whatever you’re doing….stop it.”

He looked at me.

“You are unstable in proximity.”

“What does that even mean?”

He didn’t answer.

A flicker of something moved behind the glass window.

Outside.

Between rain streaks.

A shadow.

Not human shaped.

Not animal either.

Just wrong geometry.

Mina noticed it too.

Her voice dropped. “Eve… what is that outside?”

I turned.

My stomach dropped.

It was watching.

Not moving.

Just there.

Like it had been waiting for him specifically.

Kairen’s eyes shifted toward the window.

The moment he looked at it.

The shadow recoiled.

Fast.

Like it had been burned by attention.

It vanished.

Mina stepped back slightly. “Okay. Nope. I’m done. I don’t care who you are, but you’re not coming back here again.”

Kairen ignored her completely.

His gaze stayed on me.

“You did not report last night’s encounter.”

“I thought it was a hallucination,” I said flatly.

“Incorrect.”

“Comforting.”

A beat.

His eyes lowered slightly.

To my face.

Then my chest.

Like he was confirming something invisible.

“You are worsening faster than expected.”

I crossed my arms. “You keep saying that like it means something.”

“It does.”

Mina grabbed my arm. “Eve, I don’t like this. Who is he?”

I hesitated.

Kairen answered instead.

“Kairen Vale.”

Mina frowned. “That’s not helpful.”

“He is not here for you,” I said quickly.

That made her look at me instead.

“…What does that mean?”

I didn’t answer fast enough.

Kairen stepped closer.

Only one step.

Still minimal.

Still controlled.

But the air changed immediately.

Mina stiffened like her body suddenly remembered danger.

“I am here,” he said quietly, “because she called me.”

I snapped, “I did NOT call you…”

He looked at me.

And that stopped me mid-sentence.

Not because he raised his voice.

He didn’t.

Not because he moved aggressively.

He didn’t.

Just that look.

Certain.

Like he already knew the outcome of every argument I could make.

“You did,” he repeated.

Then his gaze shifted slightly.

To my wrist.

Where faint mark-like discoloration lingered under skin.

Mina followed his stare. “Eve… what is that on you?”

I pulled my sleeve down quickly. “Nothing.”

Kairen spoke again.

“You will continue to deteriorate.”

Mina stepped forward. “Stop saying that like she’s a broken machine.”

He didn’t look at her.

“That is not an insult. It is observation.”

I exhaled sharply. “Okay, I’m working. People are coming in soon. You can leave now.”

Silence.

Then.

Kairen reached into his coat.

Mina flinched instantly. “Don’t…”

He pulled out something small.

Not a weapon.

My pill organizer.

Again.

Mina blinked. “How did you..”

He placed it on the counter.

Neatly.

Like it belonged there.

Then looked at me.

“You skipped morning dosage.”

My mouth went dry.

“…You broke into my room?”

“No.”

“Then how…”

“I observed.”

Mina stared at me. “Eve…”

I ignored her.

“You can’t just monitor me,” I said firmly.

Kairen tilted his head slightly.

“You are inefficient alone.”

That landed wrong.

Not insulting.

Not kind.

Just… final.

Mina slammed her hand on the counter. “Okay, listen…creepy man…”

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

A book on the nearest shelf cracked down the middle.

Mina froze.

I did too.

Kairen’s gaze shifted slightly toward the broken book.

Then back to me.

“Your emotional instability increases external disturbances.”

I swallowed.

“…You’re blaming me for that?”

“No.”

A pause.

Then:

“I am warning you.”

Outside.

The shadow returned.

Closer this time.

Pressed against the glass.

Not watching him.

Watching me.

My breath caught.

Kairen noticed immediately.

His voice lowered slightly.

“Do not acknowledge it.”

Too late.

The glass window trembled.

Mina backed away. “Eve, what is happening?”

I didn’t answer.

Because the shadow pressed harder.

Like it was trying to get in.

Kairen moved.

Fast.

Still controlled.

But fast enough that my brain barely tracked it.

He stepped between me and the window.

The air dropped several degrees.

The shadow froze.

Then.

It screamed.

Not sound.

Pressure.

The glass vibrated violently.

Books fell again from shelves.

Mina covered her ears. “What is that?!”

Kairen lifted one hand slightly.

The shadow collapsed inward.

Like space itself had been folded.

Gone.

Silence returned immediately.

Too sudden.

Mina was breathing hard. “Eve… what the hell was that?”

I didn’t answer.

Because Kairen was still standing there.

Perfectly still.

Looking at the window like it offended him.

Then he turned back to me.

Calm again.

As if nothing happened.

“You are attracting attention,” he said.

My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “From what?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Then:

“Things that should not notice you.”

A pause.

“You should remain indoors after dark.”

Mina laughed once. Nervous. “Yeah, no. She’s not listening to you.”

Kairen finally looked at her again.

“You will ensure she complies.”

Mina stiffened. “Excuse me?”

He looked back at me.

“I will return.”

I exhaled sharply. “No, you won’t.”

But he was already turning.

Already leaving.

No dramatic exit.

No warning.

Just movement toward the door.

The air lightened slightly as he left.

Like the world could finally breathe again.

The bell above the door chimed once.

Gone.

Mina stared at the door.

Then at me.

Then whispered:

“…Eve. What did you bring into my bookstore?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because my eyes were still on the floor.

Where another book had fallen.

This one open.

Page blank.

Except for one line that hadn’t been there before.

Written in ink that looked too dark to be normal:

“FORTY DAYS REMAIN.”