Iris stood from the chair, the movement silent. The apartment was still dark, the only light coming from the street below filtering through thin curtains.

  She moved closer to the bed.

  Leon shifted in his sleep, stretching like a child, one arm thrown over his head. The bruise on his cheekbone was visible even in the dim light. Faded now, but still there. Yellow and purple at the edges.

  Iris reached out, her fingers hovering over the injury on his lip. Then, carefully, she touched it. Her fingertips were cool against his skin.

  Leon didn't wake.

  She withdrew her hand and straightened, looking down at him for another moment. Then she turned and walked to the door, her footsteps making no sound on the worn floor.

  The door opened. Closed.

  She was gone.

  Leon's alarm went off at 5:30 AM.

  He slapped at his phone, silencing it, and lay there for a moment trying to remember why his face felt weird. Not painful. Just... different.

  He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His ribs didn't hurt. That was strange. They'd been aching for days.

  He stumbled to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and froze.

  There was something on his face.

  A patch—thin, almost translucent, but definitely there—covered the injury on his lip. He touched it carefully. It felt expensive. Medical-grade. Nothing like the cheap band-aids he had in his cabinet.

  He lifted his shirt. More patches on his ribs where the bruising had been worst. Professional wrapping around one that he definitely hadn't put there.

  "What the..."

  Leon stared at his reflection, completely bewildered. How did this get here? When did this happen? He'd gone to sleep in regular clothes with regular injuries and now he looked like he'd been treated by an actual medical professional.

  He checked his apartment door. Locked from the inside, chain still in place. Windows closed. Everything exactly as he'd left it.

  "Okay," he said to his empty bathroom. "Okay. So either I sleepwalked to a hospital, got treated, and came back. Or..."

  He paused.

  "Or my apartment has a friendly ghost."

  The words hung in the air. Leon looked around the bathroom as if expecting something to appear.

  "Hello? Ghost?"

  Nothing.

  "If you're here, uh... thank you?"

  Still nothing.

  He felt ridiculous. He was talking to an empty bathroom about ghosts. But what other explanation was there? These patches didn't just appear. Someone had put them on him while he slept. Someone had gotten into his locked apartment.

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  Leon touched the patch on his lip again. It was really nice quality. Probably expensive.

  "Rich ghost," he muttered. "Great."

  He finished getting ready for school, checking over his shoulder every few minutes like something might materialize behind him. The apartment remained empty and decidedly non-haunted-looking.

  Maybe he was losing it. Maybe the stress and exhaustion were finally getting to him.

  Or maybe he had a ghost roommate now.

  Leon grabbed his backpack and headed out, still feeling the weird patches on his skin.

  The school was chaos.

  Students crowded the hallways, everyone talking at once about last night. Leon caught fragments as he walked to his locker.

  "—military vehicles, I swear—"

  "—my dad said it was a terrorist threat—"

  "—no way, probably some VIP visiting—"

  "—the entire city locked down for six hours—"

  Sophie found him at his locker, eyes wide. "Did you see what happened? The police were everywhere!"

  "I was asleep," Leon said.

  "How did you sleep through that? There were helicopters!"

  "I was really tired."

  "Everyone's saying it was some kind of emergency. But nobody knows what actually happened. The news isn't reporting anything."

  Daniel joined them, looking excited. "My brother's friend works security at some government building. He said it was orders from way up. Like, international level."

  "That makes no sense," Sophie said.

  "I'm just telling you what I heard!"

  Leon closed his locker and tried to process this. The entire city locked down. Last night, while he was sleeping. While someone—or something—had been in his apartment treating his injuries.

  This was too weird.

  Marcus appeared, looking tired. "Yo. You survive the lockdown okay?"

  "Yeah, I slept through most of it." Leon hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Can I ask you something weird?"

  "Sure?"

  "Did you... did you somehow break into my apartment last night? Maybe to check on me?"

  Marcus stared at him. "What?"

  "Like, bypass the police lockdown, pick my lock, treat my injuries while I was sleeping, and then leave without waking me up?"

  The silence stretched.

  "Leon," Marcus said slowly, "are you okay? Like, mentally?"

  "I'm serious."

  "Dude." Marcus put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm genuinely worried about you. The overwork is frying your brain."

  "But—"

  "I was stuck at home all night. Couldn't even go to the corner store. The whole city was frozen." Marcus studied his face. "Wait, what happened to your injuries? They look way better."

  Leon touched the patch on his lip. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

  "Did you go to a doctor?"

  "No."

  "Then how—"

  The bell rang, cutting off the conversation. Students started moving toward classrooms.

  "We'll talk later," Marcus said, still looking concerned. "But seriously, man. Get some sleep. You're starting to sound crazy."

  Leon nodded and headed to class, but his mind was elsewhere.

  The day dragged on with everyone still talking about the lockdown. Theories got more elaborate as the hours passed. Government conspiracy. Celebrity visit. Alien invasion, according to one particularly creative freshman.

  Leon listened and said nothing.

  At lunch, Marcus pulled out the festival supplies again. "Okay, we need to actually make progress on this. Festival is in one week."

  "Right."

  "You're distracted."

  "Just tired."

  "You're always tired." Marcus spread out the poster boards. "Come on, help me figure out this layout. We need to mount the photos in a way that doesn't look completely amateur."

  They spent lunch period working on the display, arranging and rearranging photos of student life around campus. Marcus had a good eye for composition. Leon mostly followed his lead, holding things in place while Marcus decided if they worked.

  "This is actually coming together," Marcus said, stepping back to look at their progress. "We might not completely bomb this assignment."

  "High praise."

  "I'm serious. It looks decent."

  Sophie and Daniel stopped by to check on their progress. Sophie offered suggestions about color coordination. Daniel made a joke about their photos looking "very artistic" in a way that suggested he had no idea what he was talking about.

  Leon helped Marcus pack up the supplies when lunch ended.

  "You working tonight?" Marcus asked.

  "Yeah. Five to close."

  "You need a ride?"

  "I'll take the bus."

  "Leon—"

  "I'm fine. Really."

  Marcus didn't look convinced, but he dropped it.

  They headed to their separate classes. Leon sat through history and English on autopilot, taking notes mechanically, his mind constantly drifting back to this morning.

  Someone had been in his apartment. Someone had treated his injuries with expensive medical supplies. And it had happened during a city-wide lockdown that apparently no civilian could bypass.

  He didn't believe in ghosts. Not really.

  But he didn't have any better explanations either.