The first light of morning slipped through the crack in the curtains and landed across Kind's face like a quiet intruder.
His eyes blinked open slowly, pulled from the warmth of a dream he couldn't quite remember. Something about home. His real home—he didn't know how he knew that, but the feeling was different. Softer. Brighter.
His hand reached across the bed, feeling the empty side instinctively. The room was cold.
Downstairs, silence hung thick like fog. No footsteps. No clatter of dishes. No whispered greetings.
Today was his birthday.
And no one had remembered.
Still, he sat up. Forced a breath through his teeth. "Maybe they're planning something," he told himself. He stood, stretched, and walked over to the table where a tiny idol of Lord Ganesha sat beside a dust-covered photo frame—his grandmother, frozen in time.
He touched the edge of the frame with gentle fingers. "You remembered, didn't you?"
No reply, of course. But it felt safer to say it out loud.
Downstairs, the house remained lifeless. Even the sticky note he dropped on the floor yesterday was still exactly where he left it, untouched.
He opened the fridge. Empty, except for a half-used milk carton and a jar of mango pickle.
His phone buzzed. A message from "Mom."
"Kind, sorry dear. We won't be back today. Uncle Argo invited us to his hotel opening in Illam. We couldn't refuse. We're staying a few days. I've arranged for a maid. She'll handle the meals and cleaning. You know we love you, right? – Mama & Papa"
The words landed like stones.
No call. No cake. Just a maid and a heart emoji.
Kind didn't respond. He couldn't.
He stood there, eyes locked on the screen, barely aware of the apple he grabbed out of habit, chewing without taste.
At School
By the time he arrived at school, the clouds had thickened overhead, casting long shadows over the courtyard. The main gate squeaked slightly as it opened—a sound no one else seemed to notice.
The atmosphere was different today.
Quieter.
Whispers snaked through the hallways. Students walked with heads lowered. Even the staffroom door was closed for the first time in weeks.
Kind headed toward his classroom, passing Mira's locker—still untouched. Her books remained in the same position they had been the day she disappeared.
And now, Bela was gone too.
Another student vanished. No notice. No explanation. Just empty seats and empty answers.
Kind slid into his chair, glancing at the others. No one made eye contact.
Even Win, usually full of chatter, offered only a tight smile.
Jun's seat—empty again.
He hadn't shown up the entire week.
Something wasn't right.
During lunch, Kind sat alone by the corner window in the cafeteria. He poked at his rice. The other students were murmuring in hushed voices at the far end of the hall, glancing his way occasionally.
Were they talking about him?
Or the missing kids?
Or both?
The Café – After School
By evening, the sky had turned a pale grey.
Kind clocked in at the café like any other day. Binita handed him the order list without her usual smile. Maybe she felt the tension too.
He tried to lose himself in routine. Mixing, pouring, wiping, repeating.
Until the message came.
Another notification.
From his mother.
The same message again.
Word for word.
"Kind, sorry dear. We won't be back today…"
He scrolled up. Confirmed it.It wasn't just a copy.
It was the exact same message she had sent that morning.
He stared at it, frozen.
What kind of mother resends the same message without even realizing?
A cold feeling settled in his stomach. Not quite anger. Not sadness. Something in between. A quiet unraveling.
He hadn't noticed he was crushing the cupcake Binita had given him until frosting smeared across his fingers.
"Kind?" Binita appeared beside him. "Are you alright?"
He turned slightly, eyes unfocused. "Yeah. I'm fine."
She didn't believe him.
Neither did he.
Then, Jun walked in.
The café door chimed with a soft ding.
Kind turned.
Jun stood at the counter—calm, composed, and holding a bouquet of red roses. He wasn't in his usual jacket. He wore a pale blazer over silver-toned pants, polished shoes that gleamed under the lights. One hand was hidden behind his back.
"Jun?" Kind asked, voice caught between shock and breath.
Jun smiled. "Happy Birthday, Kind."
For a moment, everything in the room dimmed except for him.
Kind blinked. "How did you—how did you know?"
"You told me. Your first day. After school. You probably don't remember, but I do." His voice was gentle.
Kind's chest tightened.
Everyone else had forgotten. But Jun hadn't.
Even when he wasn't here… he remembered.
Jun stepped closer. "You okay?"
Kind hesitated. "Not really."
Jun nodded, then tilted his head toward the side exit. "Come with me."
"I can't leave yet. I still have—"
"I already asked Binita."
Kind blinked. He looked over and saw Binita give him a small nod, then quietly return to the kitchen.
Jun extended his hand.
Kind took it.
Outside
The alley was cold.
But Jun's hand was warm.
Without saying a word, he guided Kind down the quiet path behind the café, past the bins, past the cracked wall. Kind followed, unsure, curious, nervous.
"Close your eyes," Jun said, stopping at the corner.
Kind gave him a wary glance.
"Trust me."
He hesitated, then closed them.
Jun's hand covered his eyes gently.
"Okay. Now walk forward."
They stepped together. Jun whispered the turns in his ear, careful not to let Kind stumble.
Then—"Stop."
Jun's palms lifted away from Kind's face.
"Open."
Kind opened his eyes.
The alley wall in front of him had been covered in photos—prints taped together like a messy collage. Photos of the school courtyard, the café, the old swing from the park down the street… and in the middle of it all, a photo of Kind laughing.
Jun stepped beside him.
"I've been watching over you," he said softly. "Even when I wasn't around."
Kind stared at the wall. A beat passed before he whispered, "Why?"
Jun didn't answer right away.
But his expression changed. Just slightly.
"Because there are things I know… that you don't. Yet."
June's Pov
Jun's breath hitched as he stepped through the cracked back door of the abandoned warehouse. The cold night wrapped around him like a heavy blanket, the damp concrete beneath his feet seeping into his shoes.
Every movement had to be careful—quiet—but his heart thudded too loud in his chest.
He wasn't just chasing shadows anymore. He was chasing pieces of broken lives.
Mira's face flickered in his mind—the way she smiled on the first day at school, so full of hope, so sure everything would be okay. Now, she was just a name in a file, a ghost lost in the darkness.
Jun's fingers brushed the small recorder clipped to his belt, sending live images back to the team.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
He needed proof. Proof to stop the nightmare swallowing these kids.
A faint sound made him freeze.
Movement in the shadows.
Jun's eyes locked onto a trembling figure crouched in the corner.
Mira.
Her eyes were wide, glossy with tears, her whole body trembling like a leaf in the wind.
She whispered, "Please… help me."
Jun's voice softened without thinking. "You're safe now. I've got you."
But the moment broke with a creak behind him—the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
Voices followed. Low, angry, filled with menace.
"They found him," one said. "The spy. No mistakes this time."
Jun's jaw clenched, adrenaline surging.
Without a word, he grabbed Mira's hand and pulled her toward a narrow stairwell.
"Stay close. Don't make a sound."
As they moved through the dark, Jun's mind flickered to Kind.
That boy—so brave, so unaware of the storm closing in around him.
Jun's chest tightened.
He wanted to warn him. Protect him. Keep him safe from everything he was discovering.
But first, he had to get Mira out.
And survive.
Because if he failed, Kind would be next.