Chapter 74: Missing morning
By the time Noah dropped me off at my apartment, the sun had already climbed above the rooftops.
Neither of us had spoken much on the drive back.
There wasn’t much left to say.
Professor Ellis had been found alive.
Lucien had disappeared.
An impossible journal had surfaced beneath a warehouse that officially didn’t exist.
And somewhere out there...
Page 117 was missing.
Noah leaned against the driver’s door before leaving.
"Get some sleep."
I laughed quietly.
"I don’t think that’s happening."
"It should."
"You look terrible."
"So do you."
He sighed.
"Fair enough."
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he became serious.
"If anyone contacts you..."
"...especially that man..."
"Tell me immediately."
"I will."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
He nodded once.
"See you at the academy."
As he drove away, I remained standing outside my apartment building until the sound of his engine disappeared.
Only then did I head upstairs.
The moment I closed the apartment door, the silence became oppressive.
I dropped my jacket onto the chair.
My shoes followed.
Without thinking, I walked straight to the window overlooking the street below.
Normal.
People were already heading to work.
Children waited for school buses.
A woman walked her dog.
The city looked exactly as it had yesterday.
As though nothing extraordinary had happened.
I let out a slow breath.
"System."
Nothing.
"...Status."
Still nothing.
Not even a flicker of blue light.
It had never ignored me before.
An uneasy feeling settled in my chest.
The System had been unusually active throughout the night.
Now...
Silence.
I pulled my notebook from the desk drawer.
The one I’d started after meeting Lucien.
I opened to the first page.
Lucien
— Appears not to age.
— Knows about the System.
— Called Noah "the Observer."
— Appeared in historical evidence.
— Professor Ellis followed him willingly.
— Left a pocket watch.
— Vanished before police arrived.
I stared at the final point before adding another.
— Asked Professor Ellis if he still believed the first Observer.
Below it, I wrote the words carved into the warehouse wall.
The first Observer lied.
Then, after a long hesitation, I wrote one more sentence.
Who is writing this story?
The moment my pen left the paper...
A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.
Three knocks.
Evenly spaced.
I froze.
Nobody knew where I lived.
Noah certainly wouldn’t visit after dropping me off.
Slowly, I approached the door.
The peephole revealed an elderly man wearing a brown overcoat.
My heartbeat quickened.
The old man from the exhibition.
The same man who had silently watched me several times before.
He stood perfectly still.
Hands folded behind his back.
Waiting.
Another three knocks.
I opened the door only a few inches.
"...Can I help you?"
The old man smiled politely.
"I certainly hope so."
His voice was gentle.
Cultured.
Nothing about him felt threatening.
Yet every instinct warned me to shut the door.
"You’ve mistaken me for someone else."
"I rarely do."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"Adrian Cross."
"You’ve been asking the wrong questions."
The hallway suddenly felt much smaller.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Of course you don’t."
"That’s why I’m here."
I tightened my grip on the doorknob.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Elias."
"No surname?"
"I’ve had several."
That answer reminded me far too much of Lucien.
"I’m not interested."
"I know."
He smiled again.
"But you’ll be interested in this."
From inside his coat, he produced a small envelope.
Yellowed with age.
Completely unsealed.
"I believe this belongs to you."
"It doesn’t."
"It will."
He extended it toward me.
I didn’t move.
After several seconds, he simply placed it on the floor outside the door.
"You don’t have to trust me."
"In fact..."
"...I recommend that you don’t."
He stepped back.
"You’ve already met one Observer."
"The second is considerably less patient."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What did you say?"
Elias looked almost amused.
"You’ll understand soon enough."
He turned and began walking toward the stairwell.
"Wait."
He stopped.
Without looking back, I asked,
"Do you know Lucien?"
Several seconds passed.
Finally, he answered.
"I knew him..."
"...before he became Lucien."
Then he disappeared down the stairs.
I rushed after him immediately.
The stairwell was empty.
No footsteps.
No opening doors.
Nothing.
It was as though he’d never been there.
Only the envelope remained.
I carried it inside and placed it on the table.
For nearly five minutes...
I simply stared at it.
No wires.
No markings.
No address.
Just old paper.
Finally, I opened it.
Inside was a single black-and-white photograph.
The image was faded.
Taken decades ago.
Perhaps even older.
Seven people stood in front of an enormous stone building.
The architecture didn’t resemble anything in Eastbridge.
Each person wore formal clothing from another era.
Six faces were unfamiliar.
The seventh made my blood run cold.
Lucien.
Not younger.
Not older.
Exactly the same.
I flipped the photograph over.
Neat handwriting covered the back.
The Archive welcomes every witness.
Only one leaves as its author.
Before I could think further—
My phone rang.
Noah.
I answered immediately.
"What happened?"
"You tell me."
His voice sounded unusually tense.
"I just got a call from Detective Hale."
"What about?"
"He wanted to know if I’d contacted you."
"I haven’t."
There was a brief silence.
Then Noah spoke again.
"Someone broke into the police evidence room."
I straightened.
"The journal?"
"Gone."
My stomach tightened.
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No."
"That’s the strange part."
"The security guards swear nobody entered."
"They checked the cameras."
"And?"
"They all stopped recording..."
"...at exactly 11:17."
The words hung between us.
Noah continued.
"Hale wants us at the academy."
"Apparently..."
"...Professor Ellis remembered something else."
I looked at the old photograph lying on my table.
The Archive welcomes every witness.
Only one leaves as its author.
"I’ll be there."
The call ended.
As I reached for my jacket...
The blue System window finally returned.
It appeared slowly.
Unlike before.
As though struggling to remain stable.
______
[Emergency Update]
Primary Evidence Lost.
The Journal has been removed from police custody.
Narrative Branches Increasing...
Calculating...
Calculating...
New Active Participants Detected.
Current Observers:
???
System Access Restricted.
Warning.
The story is beginning to observe you in return.
______
The final line lingered for several seconds.
Then the entire window flickered violently.
For the first time...
One section of the System wasn’t hidden behind question marks.
A single name appeared.
Elias.
And beneath it, in crimson letters—
Status: Deceased.