Morning came far too quickly.
For a few peaceful seconds after waking up, everything felt normal.
Quiet room.
Soft sunlight slipping through the curtains.
The familiar faint sound of Rex moving somewhere in the house.
Then memory struck.
The alley.
The creature.
The fight.
The impossible.
I sat up immediately, my breathing uneven as fragments of last night replayed in my mind.
The wounds.
The pain.
The moment that thing… dissolved into me.
My hand instinctively moved to my chest.
No injury.
No blood.
Nothing.
Only smooth skin beneath my shirt.
"…What?"
I quickly got out of bed and walked toward the mirror.
At first, I thought the lighting was playing tricks on me.
Then my heart skipped a beat.
My hair…
It wasn't dark brown anymore.
It was black.
Not just dark.
Pitch black.
Darker than I had ever seen before.
Almost unnatural.
I leaned closer to the mirror.
My reflection stared back at me with unfamiliar intensity.
My eyes—
Red.
A deep crimson shade that seemed to glow faintly when the light hit them.
I stumbled back slightly.
"No… no, no…"
My fingers moved through my hair, as if hoping the color would somehow change back.
It didn't.
"This isn't possible…"
Last night wasn't just real.
It had changed me.
Physically.
Permanently?
A sudden knock on my door made me tense.
"Kray? Breakfast is ready," Mom's voice called gently from the other side.
"I… I'm not hungry," I replied quickly.
A brief pause.
"That's unusual," she said.
"I'll eat later," I added, trying to sound normal.
"Alright. Don't skip meals too often."
Her footsteps faded.
I exhaled slowly.
I wasn't ready to explain anything.
Not yet.
I needed answers first.
And there was only one person I trusted enough to show this mess to.
Shane.
I grabbed my phone and quickly sent him a message.
Come to the hideout. Urgent.
He didn't ask questions.
He never did when something sounded serious.
That was just how Shane was.
Reliable.
Calm when needed.
Annoying most of the time.
I quickly dressed, pulling on a dark hoodie.
Maybe it would make the changes less noticeable.
Maybe I was just hoping.
Rex watched me carefully as I moved toward the door.
He tilted his head slightly, as if sensing something different.
"You too?" I muttered.
His tail wagged cautiously.
Great.
Even the dog noticed.
I left the house quietly.
The morning air felt colder than usual.
Every passing window became a reminder that I looked different.
Too different.
The hideout wasn't far.
An abandoned storage structure near the edge of an old construction area.
Dad had once worked nearby years ago.
The place had been forgotten ever since.
Only three people knew about it.
Me.
Clara.
Shane.
Originally, it had just been somewhere quiet to think.
Later, it became somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere I could train.
Punching bag.
Old weights.
Scratched floor from repeated drills.
A place built from habit.
A habit born from something I preferred not to remember.
I arrived early and began moving automatically.
Punches.
Footwork.
Controlled breathing.
Routine helped clear the mind.
Even today.
Especially today.
Footsteps approached.
Right on time.
The door creaked open.
"Well," Shane said immediately, "either you joined a secret rock band or something is very wrong."
I stopped moving.
He walked closer, examining me carefully.
His expression shifted from amused to confused… then serious.
"…That's new."
"Took you long enough," I replied dryly.
"Hard to miss," he said.
Shane crossed his arms, observing quietly.
Shane never shared his surname.
Whenever someone asked, he would dodge the question with a joke or simply ignore it.
I never pushed him about it.
Everyone had things they weren't ready to talk about..
We had known each other long enough that names didn't matter much.
He had always been the type to joke first and think later.
But when something was truly important…
He listened.
Carefully.
"You want to explain why you suddenly look like the main character of a supernatural movie?" he asked.
"I don't fully understand it myself," I admitted.
That was enough.
He didn't push further.
Didn't demand answers.
He simply nodded.
"Alright."
That was it.
No interrogation.
No disbelief.
Just trust.
He walked toward one of the chairs and sat down casually.
"When you're ready, you'll tell me."
That was Shane.
Annoying sometimes.
But dependable when it mattered.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
"So… how exactly are you planning to explain this to your parents?"
I remained silent.
Good question.
I had absolutely no idea.
"I thought so," Shane sighed.
I moved toward the board on the wall.
Photos.
Notes.
Maps of the city.
Small reminders of past incidents.
Past problems.
I picked up a marker and circled the alley where everything had happened.
"If I start here…" I muttered.
I retraced my steps from last night.
Street by street.
Detail by detail.
Every memory I could recall.
Then I opened my phone and searched.
Reports.
News.
Forums.
Anything unusual.
Animal attacks.
Strange sightings.
Unexplained violence.
Nothing.
No mention of creatures.
No mention of anything unusual.
As if last night had never happened.
"…Nothing?" Shane asked.
"Nothing," I confirmed.
He leaned back in his chair.
"Well, you do look particularly… demonic."
I froze.
"…Funny."
"I try."
He smirked slightly.
"Red eyes. Black hair. Slightly dramatic entrance. Definitely suspicious."
"Very helpful."
"I'm just saying," he continued jokingly, "if someone told me you fought a demon, I'd believe it."
Something about that sentence lingered longer than it should have.
Fought a demon.
Demon.
The word echoed faintly in my mind.
Could that actually be what it was?
No.
That was impossible.
Right?
I shook the thought away.
Even thinking about it felt ridiculous.
Yet the idea refused to disappear completely.
Shane stood up.
"Well," he said casually, stretching slightly, "whatever this is… you'll figure it out."
"Hopefully before you accidentally summon lightning or something."
"Very reassuring."
"I'm serious," he added more quietly.
"You've handled worse situations."
A pause.
"…Thanks."
We didn't need long conversations to understand each other.
Some things were simply known.
By evening, I returned home.
The moment I stepped inside, I knew hiding the change completely would be impossible.
Mom noticed first.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Kray… your hair?"
Dad looked up from the couch.
"…And your eyes."
Clara walked closer, examining carefully.
"…Okay, that's actually kind of cool."
"Clara," Mom said softly.
"What? It does look cool."
I took a slow breath.
"I know this looks strange," I began.
Concern was visible on both my parents' faces.
"I'm not ready to explain everything yet," I admitted honestly.
"But… I promise I will."
I met their gaze directly.
"I just need a little time."
Silence filled the room briefly.
Then Dad nodded slowly.
"If you say you'll explain… we believe you."
Mom still looked worried, but she didn't press further.
Trust.
Again.
Clara crossed her arms thoughtfully.
"I still think the black hair suits you more."
"Thanks," I replied dryly.
Rex approached and sniffed me cautiously.
Even he seemed confused.
"I'm still me," I muttered.
At least… I hoped I was.
Later that night, lying in bed, sleep refused to come easily.
My reflection replayed in my mind.
Red eyes.
Black hair.
The feeling beneath my skin.
Something had changed.
Something fundamental.
Something irreversible.
And deep inside…
Something waited.
Quiet.
Patient.
Watching.
Whatever had fused with me…
It wasn't gone.
And neither was the question that now refused to leave my thoughts.
What exactly had I become?