The Shadow That Never Fades

Gawin woke up gasping for air.

There was no smoke. No fire. Yet, his chest burned as if he had just barely escaped from something he couldn't remember.

He sat up slowly, his hand trembling as it touched his neck, checking to ensure he was still alive.

The same dream. The same feeling. The same face.

A face he couldn't recall, yet could never forget.

Moments passed before he realized the room was entirely too quiet, as if the whole world was holding its breath with him.

Then, he heard it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Faint raps against the door.

They weren’t loud, nor were they rushed. But they were enough to make his entire body freeze. For a reason he couldn't comprehend, he felt that opening that door… would change everything.

And yet, he stood up and walked toward it. It was as if something… was waiting for him on the other side.

Gawin stopped in front of the door. He didn’t move right away. A small part of him tried to convince him to ignore the sound, to go back to bed and forget it.

But the knocking repeated. The same strange calm. The same rhythm that didn’t sound like anyone seeking help.

He drew closer. His hand touched the doorknob. It was disturbingly cold, as if someone had left an invisible trace upon it.

Hesitating for a second, he opened the door.

The air outside was perfectly still. The hallway was completely empty.

"No one."

He froze for a moment, his eyes slowly scanning the empty space ahead, looking for a flaw in reality itself. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no sound, not even a trace of anyone’s presence.

Only… a heavy silence.

He took a step out of the room, looking right and left. The hallway was long, illuminated by a dim, faint light. Everything looked uncomfortably normal—as if it had been arranged to look that way on purpose.

Then, he felt it.

That inexplicable sensation. As if someone was watching him without actually being there.

Swallowing hard, he closed the door slowly and went back inside.

But something had shifted. Even the room didn’t look the same as it had minutes ago. He looked at the bed, at the window, at the shadows dancing on the walls. Everything was in its place, yet… he no longer felt alone.

He walked forward slowly until he stood before the mirror. He stared at his reflection.

For a split second… he thought he saw something behind him.

He spun around instantly. Nothing.

He let out a soft laugh—a short, meaningless chuckle. A desperate attempt to convince himself that his mind was playing tricks on him.

Then, his inner voice echoed louder than the laughter:

“You are not imagining it.”

He froze. No one was speaking, but the sentence was crystal clear… as if it had been printed directly inside his head.

Taking a step back, he placed his hand on his temple. His breathing began to quicken against his will.

The dream… The face… And now, this persistent feeling that something was slowly drawing closer to him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm down. But his heart refused. It felt as if a part of his life… hadn't even begun yet. But it was about to start by force.

***

Gawin left his room after a length of time he couldn't quite pinpoint. He wasn’t sure if he had even slept at all, or if he had just sat there, staring into the dark until the morning silently crept in.

He dressed quickly, his movements mechanical and vacant. His mind was still trapped between the mirror and the voice that came from no mouth.

Outside, the air was colder than it should have been, and the streets were practically deserted at this hour. He began walking toward the café.

The place where he worked wasn't far, but the path always felt longer than it actually was. It was as if his steps grew heavier whenever he overthink things. He passed by old buildings, closed doors, and people who looked at no one.

But today… he felt like he was the one who was invisible. As if the whole world was passing around him, without him.

When he arrived, the café was preparing to open its doors. The scent of coffee was the first to greet him—warm and familiar—but it failed to soothe anything inside him.

He entered through the back door.

"Good morning," one of his coworkers said.

Gawin merely nodded without speaking a word. He put on his apron, tying it more slowly than usual, as if he needed this time to gather his pieces together.

Then, the work began.

Wiping down tables, arranging chairs, setting up the front counter. But every movement he made was accompanied by that strange sensation.

Someone was watching him… not from the outside this time, but from within the place itself. Every time he lifted his gaze, he expected to see someone standing at the entrance.

But there was no one. The customers began trickling in gradually. A light hum of chatter, cups being carried, overlapping conversations.

Yet, Gawin felt more isolated than ever. Even when the place filled up, his inside felt disturbingly hollow.

In the middle of the morning, a coworker approached him. "You look tired today."

Gawin hesitated for a moment, then replied in a low voice, "I didn’t sleep well."

The other laughed softly and walked away.

But Gawin remained standing. Looking at the tables, at the faces, at the door.

Then… he stopped.

He didn’t know why, but his eyes locked onto the entrance. For a long, lingering moment.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. And yet… there was a stark, undeniable feeling.

Something, or someone, was coming

***

The café carried on with its day in a normal manner—an irritatingly normal manner. Cups were filled and emptied, brief laughs echoed and faded, and the espresso machine hummed endlessly.

Gawin tried to stay in rhythm, to forget the feeling of the previous night, to convince himself that what happened was nothing more than exhaustion.

But that sensation wouldn't leave. He was standing behind the machine when he heard the sound.

A sharp shatter. Everything stopped for a fraction of a second, as if even the noise decided to fall silent.

Everyone turned toward the corner table. A glass cup had fallen to the floor, shattering into scattered shards.

"I'm sorry… my hand slipped," the customer said quickly. He was a young man in his mid-twenties, calm in appearance, but his hands were visibly trembling as he apologized.

Gawin approached quickly. He knelt on the floor carefully, beginning to sweep up the broken glass.

"Don't move, you'll cut yourself," another worker warned.

But Gawin didn't answer. He was focusing solely on the shards.

Something strange caught his attention. One of the tiny pieces was stained with spilled coffee… but its shape was different. It reflected the light in an unnatural way.

He lifted it between his fingers.

And in that exact moment, he froze. Not because of the glass, but because of the image reflected inside it.

It wasn't sharp, but it was enough.

The silhouette of a person standing at the entrance. Still. Silent. Motionless.

He snapped his head up quickly. The entrance was empty.

But his heart refused to believe his eyes. He stood up slowly, his breathing turning heavier.

"Did anyone see someone at the door?" he asked in a low voice.

No one answered. They looked at him with bewilderment.

"No one… What's wrong with you today?" one of them remarked.

Gawin swallowed hard. He looked toward the entrance once more, then let out an annoyed sigh.

"Nothing. I just feel a bit off today."

But the feeling was clearer than ever. That gaze… was not an illusion.

He returned to work in silence, but his hands no longer moved with the same steadiness. And every time he passed by the door, he expected to see him standing there.

Without a sound. Without a movement. As if he was only waiting for Gawin to turn around and look.

***

The day was too heavy to bear.

"The promised day… are you going?" Max asked, wiping the spilled coffee off the table with calm, measured strokes, as if trying to bring order to things that couldn't be ordered.

Gawin sighed slowly, answering in a burdened tone, "You know I would never miss the anniversary of my parents' and sister's deaths… right?"

Max offered a gentle smile and said, "That's why I bought three bouquets of flowers. When we finish work, we’ll go together."

Silence fell for a moment. Gawin cast his gaze toward the open storage room behind him, his eyes settling on the yellow tulips—his parents' favorite. Something shivered inside him.

"I don't know how to thank you, Max…" He paused for a bit, then murmured softly, "Since the fifth year, you’ve accompanied me every single time… I'm truly grateful."

Max shook his head with a warm smile. "We’re family. There’s no need for thanks between us, haven't I told you that a thousand times?"

The two returned to their work, finishing what was left quickly, as if racing against time to reach an appointment that couldn't be evaded.

"Gawin, grab the umbrella from the back. It’s starting to rain," Max called out as he put on his coat.

Minutes later, they stepped out together. Max held two bouquets of flowers, while Gawin carried the umbrella and the third bouquet, which felt heavier than it looked.

On their way to the subway station, Gawin broke the silence. "Eight years… it passed with a strange speed." He offered a faint smile and continued, "Sometimes I forget that I lost my family when I was seventeen… and now? I’m twenty-five." He paused, then said in a hushed tone, "The worst part… is growing up without your family."

He hesitated slightly, then the words spilled out like an open wound, "I wish I hadn't left the house that day… at least I would have died with them instead of being left alone."

Max’s expression hardened, and he said in a firm tone, "How long are you going to keep blaming yourself?! You weren't the one who started the fire, and you weren't even there!" Then, softening his voice, he patted Gawin's shoulder. "Someone did that on purpose… Everyone knows this, but it wasn't you."

Gawin tightened his grip around the umbrella. "Eight years, and my wish hasn't changed." He raised his eyes forward. "To find the one who stole my life… and my family."

They reached their destination. The rain had cleared up, so Gawin no longer needed the umbrella, but he didn't let go of it.

"The cemetery…" he whispered in a voice barely audible. "The home where my family lives… without me."

His steps were slow, weighed down by a grief that hadn't faded despite the passing years. He approached the graves… then stopped abruptly.

There was a man standing in front of his family's graves, placing flowers with a strange calmness, as if he knew the place intimately.

Gawin furrowed his brows and said in confusion, "Excuse me… who are you? And why are you standing at my parents' grave?"

The man turned around slowly, his features remarkably serene. He answered in a steady voice, "Actually, I do this every Tuesday. I distribute flowers to the graves."

Gawin raised his eyes, looking behind the man, and noticed a cart filled with flowers. Breathing a sigh of relief, he said, "Then… thank you."

The man smiled faintly. "You're welcome." He paused for a moment, then added, "By the way…"

His eyes locked directly with Gawin's.

"My name is… Joss."

In that exact moment, Gawin didn't know why… but a mysterious sensation crept deep inside him, as if this meeting was no mere coincidence.

The name hung in the air like something heavier than just letters.

"Joss…"

Gawin repeated it internally without realizing, his eyes still glued to the features of this stranger.

There was nothing suspicious in his voice… nor anything doubtful about his appearance. And yet, there was something hidden, an uncomfortable feeling slowly settling into his chest.

Max spoke up as he took a step closer, "Hello there."

But Joss didn't shift his gaze to him. His eyes remained fixed on Gawin, as if searching for something… or confirming something he already knew.

"These flowers…" Joss said quietly, gesturing to the bouquet Gawin was holding. "Yellow tulips, right?"

Gawin's fingers froze around the green stems. "Yes… they were their favorite."

Joss smiled a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I know."

Silence reigned. One short phrase… but it was enough to plant a seed of anxiety.

Max knitted his brows. "You know? How—"

Gawin cut him off quickly, as if he didn't want to hear the answer, "Maybe it's just a coincidence." But his voice wasn't convincing… even to himself.

Gawin finally bent down, placing the bouquet in front of the three graves. His lips moved with silent words he was accustomed to saying every year… an apology, a longing, and promises he wasn't sure he could keep.

While immersed in his moment, he felt it. A gaze.

He raised his head slowly. Joss… was still watching him. But this time, his gaze wasn't ordinary. It carried… recognition.

"Did you lose someone here too?" Gawin asked, trying to find a logical explanation for his presence.

Joss answered after a moment of silence, "You could say that."

"And who was it?"

He paused for just a single second. But it was enough for Gawin to notice the hesitation.

"Someone… who should have died a long time ago."

The air grew tense between the words. Gawin and Max exchanged a quick look.

"That's not an answer," Max said in a cautious tone.

Joss smiled again, as if he hadn't heard the objection. Then he turned his back slowly, walking toward the flower cart.

"In any case… take care of yourself, Gawin."

Time stood still. Gawin's entire body went rigid.

"What did you say?"

Joss turned halfway back, as if it were obvious. "Your name… it's Gawin, isn't it?"

Max immediately stepped forward, shielding Gawin behind him. "How do you know his name?"

He didn't answer.

Joss merely pushed the flower cart and began to leave, leaving behind a silence heavier than any answer.

"Wait!" Gawin called out, but his feet wouldn't move.

Joss stopped without turning around. Then, he spoke in a low voice that barely reached them:

"Some questions… once asked, cannot be taken back."

And he walked away.

He disappeared between the rows of graves as if he had never been there at all. Gawin remained standing, his eyes fixed on the spot where the man had vanished. His heart beat rapidly… not out of fear, but from something closer to certainty.

That this man… was no stranger.

And that this story… didn't start today.

It had returned...!!