I could not stay anywhere for more than a minute.

  The moment I stepped into open space, eyes turned. Phones lifted. Voices dropped just enough to carry. It happened too fast to be coincidence, too uniformly to be panic.

  The world was not chasing me.

  It was coordinating.

  Screens followed me even when I avoided them. My face stared back from reflections in shop windows, from muted televisions mounted above counters, from notifications people pretended not to check while watching me anyway.

  Miro.

  I stopped using main streets almost immediately. Service alleys, emergency stairwells, loading zones, places never meant to be lived in became my only paths forward. Every crossing was a risk. Every pause felt like an invitation.

  Doom was awake.

  Not pushing. Not pulling.

  Listening.

  A woman reached for my sleeve near a closed metro entrance, her grip light, uncertain. “You’re him,” she said. Not angry. Curious. “They said...”

  Kill her.

  The thought landed cleanly, fully formed.

  I froze.

  My heart slammed against my ribs as if trying to escape my chest. The word echoed in my head, not loud, not emotional. Practical.

  Efficient.

  I stepped back hard enough that she stumbled, eyes widening in confusion. I did not wait for her to finish. I slipped into a stairwell and took it two steps at a time, breath shallow, pulse roaring.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  What was that?

  Doom pulsed faintly in my chest.

  It had not asked.

  I surfaced again near a train yard, hoping the noise would mask me. It didn’t. Two men blocked my path, emboldened by numbers and distance. One reached for his phone.

  I moved.

  Two strikes. A twist. A shove.

  They hit the ground hard, alive and gasping, shock written across their faces.

  Good.

  That mattered.

  I stepped back, hands already lowering, ready to leave.

  Finish it.

  The thought slid into place so smoothly it almost felt like my own.

  They will not matter. No one will miss them.

  My stomach twisted violently.

  I turned away before my body could react, forcing my feet to move, forcing space between me and the idea. My hands shook as I vanished between buildings, healing magic flowing automatically to dull the strain in my muscles.

  Healing did nothing for my thoughts.

  Doom was not controlling me.

  It was suggesting.

  By the time exhaustion caught up to me, it was dark. Sirens echoed too close, too often. I ducked into a narrow alley, back against cold brick, breathing fast, forcing myself to stay present.

  “Miro.”

  I flinched so hard my shoulder cracked against the wall.

  Ayame stood at the alley entrance, eyes wide but steady. Behind her were the other two girls, close together, tense but unmoving.

  For a moment, I could not speak.

  “You look like you’re about to disappear,” Ayame said quietly.

  “You should not be here,” I said. “The whole world...”

  “We know,” she replied. “That’s why we came.”

  The others nodded. No fear. No doubt.

  Something in my chest tightened painfully.

  They led me through back passages and stairwells, avoiding the main roads by instinct or luck. When we reached their place, it was small, warm, and painfully ordinary. A space untouched by broadcasts and judgment, at least for now.

  They gave me water. Food. A chair.

  The moment I sat down, the shaking hit me fully. Not pain. Release.

  Ayame noticed. “You’re hurting,” she said.

  “Not the way you think,” I replied.

  The thought came again, uninvited.

  They trust you. That makes them vulnerable.

  My jaw clenched. I squeezed my eyes shut until the room steadied.

  “I didn’t become this alone,” I said quietly. “And I don’t want to become something else either.”

  Ayame didn’t ask questions. She simply nodded. “We trust you,” she said. “That hasn’t changed.”

  Warmth spread through me, fragile and unfamiliar. Not safety. Not relief.

  Proof.

  Outside, sirens passed too close. A neighboring screen flickered with my face, speculation scrolling beneath it. Doom stirred faintly, aware, patient.

  I sat there with people who had every reason to turn me away and didn’t, and understood something with cold clarity.

  My humanity was still mine.

  But it was no longer untouched.