Memory

September 25th, 7:45 AM - Ash's Apartment

Ash woke with the kind of heaviness that only came from a night of fractured sleep. Something gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, elusive and persistent, like a word on the tip of his tongue that refused to be spoken.

His gaze drifted to his desk, where scattered notes and Vincent Darren's nearly erased file lay beneath the dim glow of his bedside lamp. Beside them sat the black book, its presence an undeniable weight on the desk. It had been with him since that night at the library. He had nearly forgotten about it or rather, something wanted him to.

Last night, he had written down his next step Find Everett Miren.

But when he flipped through his journal, the page was blank.

Not torn, not smudged, not erased. Just... missing.

The breath left his lungs in a slow, measured exhale. It was one thing for the world to forget Vincent, for records to disappear. But this was different. This was personal.

Something wasn't just correcting the world it was correcting him.

10:15 AM - Veridion University Library

Ash moved through the library with quiet purpose. He had long since stopped trusting the weight of silence here. It wasn't empty it was expectant, watching.

He pulled out a fresh notebook and, with deliberate precision, wrote Vincent Darren's name in the center of the page. He underlined it. Twice. Let the ink settle.

Then, he waited.

Seconds passed. His eyes stayed fixed on the page.

The ink faded.

It wasn't slow, like something natural. It didn't smudge or dissolve. One second, it was there. The next, it was gone, leaving behind an undisturbed page as if it had never existed.

His fingers curled around the pen, his grip tight enough to leave imprints. This wasn't memory loss. This was deliberate.

And the realization sent something cold slithering down his spine.

12:45 PM - Campus Grounds

Ash spotted a student he recognized from one of his lectures a girl who had been present when he'd first asked about Vincent Darren. He approached, keeping his voice level.

"Do you remember the person I asked about yesterday?" he said. "Vincent Darren?"

Her frown was immediate, her lips parting slightly. That split-second hesitation it was the same as before.

Then, her eyes shifted, her posture straightened, and the moment was gone.

"I don't know who that is."

The response was too smooth, too mechanical.

Ash let out a short breath. "You hesitated."

She blinked, a flicker of something uncertainty? Fear? before she shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Then, she turned and walked away, her movements stiff, like someone moving through a script.

Ash didn't stop her. He only watched as she disappeared into the crowd, something tightening in his chest.

He had seen that exact hesitation before.

It wasn't forgetting. It was adjusting.

3:30 PM - Professor Halden's Office

"Vincent Darren?" Halden repeated, his fingers tapping idly on the desk. His expression was neutral too neutral.

Ash watched closely as the professor frowned, his eyes unfocused for a split second. Then, just like the student, something settled into place.

"I… don't think we've ever had a student by that name," Halden said, his tone even, practiced.

Ash felt something cold coil in his gut. "Are you sure?"

A pause. A correction.

Then, "I'm sure."

Ash clenched his fists at his sides before nodding and leaving. This wasn't just about Vincent anymore.

Something was policing memory itself.

5:00 PM - Veridion University Archives

Ash combed through the archives, searching for something anything that hadn't been rewritten.

Then, between two files, as if wedged there in defiance, he found a slip of paper.

It was old, its edges yellowed, but the ink was fresh, bold:

"The less they remember, the more they obey."

A slow exhale escaped him. This wasn't coincidence.

Someone had left this behind. Someone who had fought against this before.

A warning?

A plea?

Ash turned the paper over, but there was nothing else. Just that one ominous sentence.

A small emblem was printed faintly in the corner, nearly blending into the aged paper a sigil that looked eerily similar to the one from the black book.

7:45 PM - Ash's Apartment

He sat at his desk, spreading out everything he had the remnants of Vincent's records, the missing faculty files, the message from the archives. His mind raced through the pieces of a puzzle that refused to form a full picture.

The black book sat beside them, its pages still crisp, still waiting. He had opened it once, but had never dared to read beyond the first few lines. Something about it felt aware.

He flipped it open again, fingers trailing over the words.

The less they remember, the more they obey.

It was written there too. As if whoever had left that note had read from this same book. As if it was all connected.

The Correction doesn't erase people.

It erases their influence. The world fills in the blanks.

Reality shifts to make their absence seem natural.

The more something is remembered, the harder it is to erase.

Ash turned to a fresh page in his journal. He didn't hesitate this time.

Everett Miren.

The moment his pen left the paper, something in the air seemed to shift.

A test.

A challenge.

He stared at the name, exhaling slowly.

Then, beneath it, he wrote one more sentence.

I will not forget.

11:30 PM - Ash's Apartment

The city outside his window stretched into the night, glowing with artificial lights and distant movement. Ash sat at his desk, staring at the black book, at the name he had just written.

A soft sound broke the silence.

A whisper.

Not from the street. Not from the hall.

From inside the book.

The ink on the pages shifted, rearranging itself as if something on the other side had stirred.

Then, the words reformed into a single phrase:

"You have already been seen."

Ash felt the weight in his chest press down harder. He glanced toward the door. The apartment was empty.

But outside his window, beneath the orange glow of the streetlamp, someone was standing there.

Watching.