AIN: The Eyes of Deception

Chapter 2 : The Wrong Stare

Thick darkness closed in, yet Arel's vision became incredibly sharp. The shards of glass scattered across the bathroom floor reflected a dim light from the hallway outside, creating long shadows that danced on the walls. His heart pumped adrenaline so hard he could hear the roar of blood in his own ears. He didn't scream. He couldn't. His tongue was frozen, locked by a fear that crept like ice down his spine.

"You... who are you?" Arel forced the words out, his breath coming in gasps amidst the dust from the shattered bulb.

In the corner of the room, that ink-like silhouette moved. It wasn't with footsteps, but as if it were a part of the darkness itself, condensing into a human form. That smirk was still there, but now it was colder, more real.

"We have no names that you could understand with that tiny brain of yours," the voice didn't come from outside, but echoed within his skull, feeling like sandpaper rubbing against his nerves. "However, you may call us... possibility."

Arel crawled backward, his back hitting the cold sink pipe. "Did you make that elevator fall? Did you kill Riko?"

The other figure, the one that seemed to glow dimly, in contrast to the ink shadow, suddenly revealed itself. It stood in a perfect position, calm, and expressionless. "We did nothing, Arel," the glowing figure whispered. Its voice was a contrast, soft yet carrying an authority that made Arel feel small. "The elevator fell because its metal structure was fatigued, and Riko's fate was decided by the universe. We only... pointed the way you most wanted to go."

Arel shook his head violently, his hair wet with sweat. "Bullshit! I never asked for him to die! I just... I just hated him! They were just stupid thoughts!"

"And stupid thoughts are the purest fuel for us." the cynical figure replied, now right in front of Arel's face. Its smirk widened, revealing rows of teeth that looked like cracks in glass. "Every heartbeat, every emotion you bury under the heap of your failures, it is an order. And us? We are merely the chefs serving it onto the plate of your reality."

Arel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the vision. He pushed himself up on legs that were still shaking violently, bumped against the bathroom door, and bolted out. He didn't care where he was going. He just wanted to get away from the mirror, from the shadows, and from the voices that had just torn through his sanity.

Arel didn't sleep that night. He spent the time walking aimlessly along the cold, empty city streets. His mind was a mess. He tried to justify it all as a stress-induced hallucination. Yes, that was it. Stress. Maybe I need a vacation. Or maybe a psychiatrist. Yes, a psychiatrist.

However, morning arrived bringing a harsher reality.

The morning news on his phone featured a headline that made his breakfast catch in his throat. "Fatal Elevator Accident at Tech-Corp: Initial Investigation Finds Systemic Negligence."

Arel turned off his phone with trembling hands. He stepped out of his apartment, intending to head to a coffee shop, trying to go through a routine like a normal person. However, everyone he passed felt different. His vision seemed to have a new depth. He could see the lines of exhaustion on a pedestrian's face, he could see the anxiety in the eyes of a mother dragging her child along.

Then, a man in a sharp suit who looked arrogant walked in the opposite direction. The man bumped Arel's shoulder roughly, didn't apologize, and instead snorted cynically. "Watch where you're going, you bum!" the man spat as he kept walking, his phone to his ear as he talked about a big contract in a loud voice.

Arel's blood boiled. That hatred flared up again, spontaneous, sharp, and uncontrollable. Damn this guy. Acting all big in his expensive suit. I wish he'd just trip and fall so he'd be embarrassed in front of everyone.

Arel stared at the man's back with an unnatural intensity. His eyes widened, his pupils vibrating. He could feel that familiar sensation again, a pull of energy at the back of his head, an invisible connection stretching from his eyes to the man's back.

Fall, Arel whispered in his heart, a command born purely from his exploding emotions.

Instantly, reality around the man's feet seemed to warp. It was as if the flat sidewalk suddenly had an impossible bump. The man lost his balance, his feet catching on thin air, and his body slammed forward with immense force. The sound of his knees hitting the asphalt was agonizing. The hot coffee he was carrying spilled over his expensive white shirt, creating a brown stain that spread quickly.

"Argh! Damn it! What the hell is this!" The man screamed, his voice shrill with anger and embarrassment. People around him began to turn and laugh at his disheveled appearance.

Arel froze. He felt a strange tingling sensation at the nape of his neck. He had just done it. Without needing to touch him, without a plan. Just with hatred and a look.

He tried to brush it off again. A coincidence. It must have been an incredible coincidence.

He kept walking at a faster pace. But the more he tried to ignore it, the stranger the world reacted to his presence. As he passed a newsstand worker who shouted rudely at him, Arel glanced at the man for a split second with annoyance, and immediately, the stack of newspapers in the man's hands collapsed, burying the worker's head in a mountain of paper.

"What is wrong with my eyes?" Arel whispered, panicked. He covered his eyes with his palms. "Why is this happening? I don't want to hurt anyone... I just want people to stop treating me like trash!"

But a voice in his head, a voice that now felt increasingly familiar, chuckled softly. "You aren't hurting them, Arel. You are only giving the world what it needs: instant consequences for their stupidity. And you ... you are the catalyst."

Arel turned, intending to find a hiding place, but his gaze fell upon a stranger standing across the street. The man didn't look like an ordinary person. He wore a long coat that didn't match the day's weather, and he stood still, staring directly at Arel.

It wasn't a normal look. It was a gaze that seemed to pierce through skin, flesh, and touch Arel's soul directly.

Arel felt a fear he had never experienced before. The man wasn't angry. He didn't hate. He was just... observing. And behind the man, Arel could see something that made him nearly stop breathing.

It wasn't just one or two shadows. Behind the man, there was a vortex of dark and light energy intertwining, forming figures much more complex than the entities clinging to him.

The man gave a thin smile, a very calm gesture, before finally stepping forward to cross the street, heading toward Arel.

Arel backed up, his back hitting a lamp post. He tried to find a way to run, but his feet felt as if they were bolted to the concrete.

"You've only just begun to realize it, haven't you?" the man's voice sounded low, calm, and very authoritative as he stood directly in front of Arel.

Arel couldn't answer. His mouth was locked shut.

He tried to look the man in the eyes with pure rage, hoping something terrible would happen to him, just as it had to the man in the suit earlier, but the man only blinked slowly.

"Don't use your Evil Eye on me, kid," The man said as he raised his hand, his long fingers moving through the air as if brushing away invisible dust. "Because if you do, you won't just hurt yourself, you'll erase your existence from this world before you ever get the chance to know who you really are."

Arel trembled violently. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

The man leaned in, his sharp gaze seemingly reflecting every doubt Arel had ever harbored. "I am someone who has seen too many people like you break because they were too eager for power. My name isn't important. But remember this, Arel Virel..."

The man paused for a moment, his eyes flashing with a warning. "This world doesn't respond to your hatred because you're strong. This world responds because you are a starving black hole. And believe me, that thing lurking in your shadow, it will never let you be satisfied."

Suddenly, the man pointed behind Arel. "They're smiling now, Arel. Because they know you've just given them full access to your soul."

Arel felt a burning sensation on his back. He turned quickly, and there, in the reflection of the shop window beside him, he saw that the ink shadow was no longer just a shadow. The figure slowly began to elongate, its dark arms crawling up onto Arel's shoulders like a set of embracing tentacles.

Arel let out a scream, a deafening cry of frustration. He turned to lash out at the stranger, but when he opened his eyes wide, the man was gone. There was only a busy, empty street full of passersby, as if no one had ever been standing there.

"Arel?" a soft voice called out from behind him.

Arel flinched. He turned and saw a little girl standing near the bus stop, holding a red balloon that didn't move an inch despite the heavy wind. The girl stared at Arel with such an innocent look, but in her eyes, Arel saw the same glint, a spark that had no business being in an ordinary human.

"You can hear them too, can't you?" the girl asked, her voice sounding like wind chimes in the middle of a storm.

Arel fell silent, cold sweat drenching his entire body. He looked at the girl, then at the ink shadow that was now fully latched onto his shoulder, whispering in a voice only Arel could hear.

"Welcome to the real game, Arel," the shadow whispered. "Let's see how far you can run before you realize that you are your own worst enemy."

The world around Arel began to slow down. The city noise faded into an agonizing static hum. For the first time, he didn't feel like a failure. He felt, powerful. But that power felt like a slow-creeping poison, turning everything to ash. And at the end of that road, Arel knew there was only destruction waiting to be unleashed by his own desires.