Chapter 1
Dedication
For everyone still waiting for someone who can never come back.
CHAPTER 1 - 9:12 PM
Most mysteries begin with a scream.
Mine began with a shadow.
The Routine
Some people walked to stay healthy.
Some walked to clear their minds.
I walked because it was the only hour of the day when the city finally became quiet.
Every evening, after finishing my homework and pretending to study for another hour, I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my earphones, and left my apartment.
The route never changed.
Out of the gate.
Across the small park.
Past the tea stall where the same uncle closed his shop around nine.
Left at the pharmacy.
Then one slow circle around the apartment complex before heading home.
Exactly thirty-five minutes.
Nothing exciting had ever happened.
And that’s exactly why I liked it.
Night made everything feel different.
The traffic became a distant hum.
The cool breeze carried the smell of wet soil from the garden below.
The lights from hundreds of apartment windows glowed like tiny stars.
Some families were eating dinner.
Some children were still awake, running from room to room.
Some balconies were filled with clothes drying overnight.
Without realizing it, I had started looking at those balconies every evening.
Not because I was curious.
Just because people fascinated me.
Every balcony told a different story.
Someone watering plants.
Someone talking on the phone.
Someone reading a book.
Someone watching the world from above.
Ordinary lives.
Ordinary evenings.
Until one evening...
One balcony didn’t feel ordinary anymore.
The Balcony
The apartment complex across the road had been there for as long as I could remember.
Twenty-four floors.
Balconies stacked one above another like neat rows of boxes.
I didn’t know anyone who lived there.
Yet I recognized it so well that I could tell which apartments left their lights on late, which families watered their plants every evening, and which balconies stayed empty all year.
Maybe that’s what happens when you walk the same route every single day.
Your eyes begin collecting details without asking for permission.
That night was no different.
I slowed down near the park, letting my playlist fade into the background as my eyes wandered from one balcony to the next.
A little girl was chasing bubbles on the sixth floor.
Someone on the twelfth was folding laundry.
An elderly couple sat quietly on plastic chairs, sharing a cup of tea.
Everything looked... normal.
Then my eyes stopped.
Seventh floor.
Second balcony from the end.
Someone was standing there.
At least...
I thought someone was.
The balcony was lit by a warm orange light fixed to the ceiling.
Against it stood a dark silhouette.
Tall.
Completely still.
Facing slightly toward the side wall instead of the road.
I frowned.
Weird...
Most people leaned on the railing.
Checked their phones.
Talked to someone.
This figure did none of those things.
It simply stood there.
Motionless.
For a few seconds, I watched.
Nothing happened.
A car honked behind me, pulling me back to reality.
I shook my head, laughed at myself, and continued walking.
“Probably just someone enjoying the breeze,” I muttered.
By the time I reached home...
I had already forgotten about the balcony.
Or at least...
I thought I had.
The Hand
The next evening arrived like every other.
School.
Homework.
Dinner.
My mom reminding me not to stay out too late.
By 9:12 PM, I was already outside.
The cool breeze felt the same.
The streets looked the same.
Even the stray dogs sleeping near the tea stall hadn’t moved much.
I smiled to myself.
Maybe I really was over thinking yesterday.
As I reached the park, my eyes drifted toward the apartment across the road.
Without meaning to...
I searched for the balcony.
There it was.
Seventh floor.
Second from the end.
The orange light was on.
The figure was there.
Standing in exactly the same place.
Facing the same direction.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
“Didn’t it stand there yesterday too?”
I slowed my pace.
For nearly a minute...
Nothing happened.
Then...
Something moved.
Not the figure.
Just...
It’s left hand.
Slowly.
Almost lazily.
It lifted a few inches.
Paused.
Then lowered again.
The rest of the body never moved.
Not the head.
Not the shoulders.
Not even a slight shift of weight.
Only the hand.
A car passed between us, its headlights sweeping across the road.
I blinked.
The silhouette was still there.
The hand moved again.
The exact same slow motion.
Up.
Pause.
Down.
A shiver ran across my arms.
It wasn’t fear.
Not yet.
It was something harder to explain.
The feeling that I was watching something...
I couldn’t understand.
A voice behind me broke the silence.
“Excuse me.”
I jumped.
An elderly man smiled apologetically.
“You dropped this.”
He handed me one of my earphones.
I thanked him quickly.
When I looked back at the balcony...
The figure hadn’t changed at all.
Still standing.
Still waiting.
Only the hand...
Kept moving.
I pulled my phone out.
9:18 PM.
Without thinking, I opened the Notes app and typed:
7th floor. Second balcony from the end. Orange light. One figure. Only the left hand moves.
I stared at the words for a moment.
Then locked my phone.
“You’re seriously making notes about a stranger?” I whispered, laughing at myself.
I slipped the phone into my pocket and started walking home.
But for the first time in years...
I didn’t look at any of the other balconies.
Only that one.
A Habit I Never Had
The next morning, I woke up thinking about mathematics.
By lunchtime, I was thinking about chemistry.
By evening...
I was thinking about the balcony.
It annoyed me.
I wasn’t the type of person who obsessed over strangers.
I didn’t even know who lived in the apartment opposite ours.
So why was I thinking about someone I’d seen for barely a few minutes?
I pushed the thought away and focused on my homework.
It didn’t work.
Every few minutes, my eyes drifted toward the clock.
8:41 PM.
8:57 PM.
9:05 PM.
I sighed.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Still...
At exactly 9:12 PM, I tied my shoelaces and headed downstairs.
The evening air felt cooler than usual.
The familiar sounds of traffic echoed through the streets.
Children were still playing badminton near the entrance.
A delivery rider rushed past me.
Everything was perfectly ordinary.
Except me.
Because I wasn’t looking at the road anymore.
I was waiting.
The moment I reached the park, my eyes found the balcony without even trying.
Orange light.
Same floor.
Same balcony.
Same figure.
It was already there.
Waiting.
A strange knot formed in my stomach.
“Did it arrive before me... or had it been standing there all along?”
I looked at my watch.
9:13 PM.
The figure hadn’t moved.
Not a single inch.
Then...
The hand.
Slowly.
Up.
Pause.
Down.
Exactly the same.
Not faster.
Not slower.
Almost...
Like a clock.
I frowned.
“No...”
I counted silently.
One...
Two...
Three...
The hand moved again.
After almost the exact same gap.
I counted again.
The timing wasn’t perfect.
But it was close.
Close enough to bother me.
A chill crept up my spine.
Not because I thought it was a ghost.
Because...
People don’t usually move like that.
They scratch their face.
Shift their feet.
Lean on the railing.
Look around.
This figure...
Did none of those things.
It was almost as if...
The only part of it that remembered how to move...
Was its hand.
I stood there longer than I should have.
Long enough for my phone to buzz.
Mom Calling.
I answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Near the park.”
“You’ve been gone almost an hour.”
I looked at the screen in surprise.
An hour?
That couldn’t be right.
I looked back at the balcony.
The figure was still there.
Hand...
Up.
Pause.
Down.
I swallowed.
“I’ll be home in five minutes.”
As I ended the call...
For the first time...
I didn’t feel like I was watching the balcony.
I felt like...
The balcony had been watching me.
“You’re Quiet Today.”
By the time I reached home, dinner was already on the table.
Mom glanced up from the kitchen.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry.”
“You usually finish your walk in half an hour.”
“I lost track of time.”
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask anything else.
That should’ve been the end of it.
Instead...
I couldn’t stop replaying the balcony in my mind.
The orange light.
The motionless figure.
The slow movement of that single hand.
I picked at my food without realizing it.
Mom noticed immediately.
“You’re quiet today.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve barely spoken since you came home.”
I forced a smile.
“Just tired.”
She looked at me for another second before nodding.
“Don’t stay up too late. You have school tomorrow.”
“I won’t.”
That night, sleep refused to come.
Every time I closed my eyes...
I saw the same balcony.
The same orange light.
The same silhouette.
Still.
Waiting.
I turned over and looked at the digital clock beside my bed.
11:48 PM.
I sighed.
“It’s just a person.”
I repeated the sentence again.
“It’s just a person.”
It sounded convincing.
Until my own mind asked a question.
Then why can’t you stop thinking about it?
The next day dragged on forever.
Teachers spoke.
Friends laughed.
Someone asked to borrow my notebook.
I answered automatically.
My mind wasn’t in the classroom.
It was somewhere across the road...
On a balcony.
Waiting for night.
That evening...
I almost skipped my walk.
Almost.
Instead...
At exactly 9:12 PM...
I stepped out again.
Not because I wanted fresh air.
Not because I wanted exercise.
Because I wanted to know...
If it would still be there.
The road was busier than usual.
A family was taking pictures near the entrance gate.
Children chased each other around the fountain.
Nothing felt unusual.
Until I looked up.
The orange light was already on.
The figure...
Was already there.
Exactly where it had been.
Exactly as before.
My heartbeat quickened.
Without thinking...
I whispered to myself,
“...You’re waiting for someone.”
I didn’t know why those words came out.
Maybe they meant nothing.
Maybe...
They meant everything.
Just then, my phone buzzed.
A message from Mom.
Where are you?
I replied.
Near the park.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
A few seconds later, another message arrived.
Don’t come home yet.
I frowned.
Before I could type anything else...
The phone rang.
I answered immediately.
Mom’s voice was unusually calm.
“Don’t panic.”
My grip on the phone tightened.
“...But I need you to answer one question.”
“What happened?”
There was a long silence.
Then she asked—
“Can you still see the person standing on that balcony?”
