Perception

Sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, casting long stripes of gold and shadow across the office.

Elias groaned. His head felt stuffed with cotton, his body aching as if he'd been run over by a freight train. The open medical journal beneath his cheek had left an imprint of tiny, unreadable text on his face—a very professional touch.

Something poked his shoulder.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."

Elias cracked one eye open and instantly regretted it. Julian sat cross-legged on the floor, looking far too awake for someone who had spent the night running from hellhounds and sleeping on cold hospital tiles.

With a groan, Elias pushed himself upright, his spine protesting with a series of loud pops. Every muscle in his body felt stretched to its limit, barely holding together.

"How," he croaked, rubbing his face, "are you this awake?"

Julian shrugged, infuriatingly smug. "I'm used to it. Also, adrenaline's a hell of a drug."

Elias let his head drop onto the desk with a muffled thud.

Then came the knock.

Sharp. Expectant.

"Eli? You in there?"

Elias froze. Oh, no.

Dr. Ramirez's voice filtered through the door, firm but casual.

His sluggish brain lurched into panic mode. He was supposed to be working. Not passed out on his desk. Not running from monsters. And definitely not harboring a suspicious teenager in his office.

"Uh—yeah! Coming!" he called, frantically shoving the medical journal aside. He turned to Julian, eyes wide with alarm.

Julian, of course, looked completely unbothered.

Elias gestured wildly. What do we do?!

Julian simply tilted his head. So?

This was bad.

One: Elias had absolutely no excuse for looking like someone who had made terrible life choices.

Two: Julian.

Julian, who was very much not supposed to be here.

Julian, who looked exactly like someone who had spent the night dodging monsters.

Elias mouthed, Fix this.

Julian mouthed back, Not my problem.

Elias silently screamed.

"Just a second!" Elias hollered, his voice cracking as he lunged for Julian's bow and quiver. With all the grace of a man desperately covering up a crime scene, he shoved them under his desk. Then, in a last-ditch effort, he snatched a nearby lab coat and flung it over Julian like a magician attempting a particularly bad disappearing act.

Julian, still seated on the floor, blinked up at him from beneath the coat. "Seriously?"

"Shut up and be a pile of laundry," Elias hissed.

Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile—the kind that said I absolutely did not spend the night running for my life—and cracked the door open.

Dr. Ramirez stood there, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping over Elias like a particularly judgmental MRI scan. His lips pressed into a thin line as he took in the rumpled scrubs, the dark circles under Elias's eyes, and the undeniable aura of I have made terrible choices and am now facing the consequences.

"You look like you lost a fight with a dumpster," Ramirez said flatly.

Elias forced out a chuckle. "Late night. Lots of paperwork."

Ramirez didn't even blink. His eyes flicked past Elias, settling on the suspiciously lumpy shape under the lab coat. Slowly, one eyebrow inched upward.

"And… who's your ghost under the laundry?"

Elias's brain short-circuited. He absolutely could not say, Oh, that's Julian, an underaged cryptid enthusiast accidentally led a pack of supernatural murder dogs into my life.

So, instead, his mouth betrayed him.

"My, uh—cousin!"

A quiet groan came from under the coat.

Elias powered through. "Yeah! My cousin! Visiting from out of town. Needed a place to crash."

Ramirez studied him for a long, agonizing moment, his expression unreadable. Then his gaze drifted toward the desk. Specifically, to the bow.

The very visible bow.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Ramirez's mouth.

"Your cousin, huh?" His voice was pure amusement. "And I suppose that's a… family heirloom under your desk?"

Elias's stomach dropped. He dared a glance down.

The bow's sleek curve peeked out from the shadows like it, too, was judging him.

His face burned. "He's, uh… really into archery. Competitive archery. Very competitive."

Julian, still buried under the coat, muttered, "Wow. Incredible. Flawless cover story."

Ramirez chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure. And I bet he also has a deep appreciation for obscure weaponry and bad decision-making."

Elias groaned. "Are you going to report me to HR, or can we just pretend this conversation never happened?"

Ramirez's smirk widened. "Oh, I'm definitely going to pretend it never happened. But only because I'm curious how much weirder this is going to get."

Elias slumped against his desk, exhaling long and slow.

Across from him, Julian peeked out from under the lab coat, his grin way too smug for someone who had just been passed off as an archery-obsessed cousin.

"Competitive archery?" Julian echoed, tone dripping with amusement.

"Shut up," Elias grumbled, rubbing his temples. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of bad decisions, fast running, and existential dread, and somehow, this was the part Julian found funny.

Before Julian could get another jab in, Ramirez cleared his throat. He was still standing at the door, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.

"So," Ramirez drawled, clearly enjoying himself. "Should I expect your cousin to start giving archery lessons in the break room? Maybe start a hospital-wide tournament?"

Elias groaned, covering his face. "Please leave."

Ramirez chuckled, but his gaze softened just slightly. "Get some rest, Eli. You look like death warmed over." Then, with one last knowing glance at Julian, he strolled out, leaving behind the distinct scent of someone who was definitely going to ask way too many questions later.

The moment the door clicked shut, Elias sagged in his chair. Julian, still comfortably sprawled on the floor, grinned.

"He likes me," Julian declared.

"He tolerates you," Elias corrected. "And only because he's entertained by my suffering."

Julian stretched like a cat, cracking his neck. "So, what's the plan today, Doc? More exciting paperwork? Maybe some thrilling insurance claims?"

Elias sighed, staring at the mountain of files on his desk. "Unfortunately, yes. But at least it doesn't involve any hellhounds."

He hoped.

Running a hand through his hair, he winced when his fingers snagged on what was either dried sweat or sheer stress. He was exhausted, his nerves fried, but Julian? Julian was casually inspecting a half-eaten bagel like he was grading it for a Michelin star.

Elias frowned. "Where did you get that?"

Julian paused mid-chew, looked at the bagel as if he had just noticed it, then shrugged. "You don't wanna know."

Before Elias could question further—because he absolutely did want to know—his brain took a sharp detour. A realization, sudden and glaring.

"Wait a minute!" He sat up, pointing at Julian like he had just caught him in a crime. "You said normal people can't see supernatural stuff, right?"

Julian blinked, still chewing.

"So why did Ramirez see your bow?" Elias continued, eyes narrowing. "Shouldn't he have seen, I don't know, a broom? Or a really weird umbrella?"

Julian swallowed his bite with the exaggerated patience of a man dealing with an overcaffeinated toddler. He gestured with the bagel. "It's a bow, Elias. Not exactly a mind-breaking concept. The human brain can process that. It's the context that gets scrambled."

Elias stared, unblinking. "…Explain that like I haven't just run from a pack of demon dogs and slept on my office desk."

Julian smirked. "Alright. Your brain isn't a camera, Eli. It's a storyteller. It doesn't just see things—it interprets them, fits them into a logical framework. If something doesn't fit, it rewrites it until it does."

He leaned forward, tapping his temple. "So, say a regular person sees a fifteen-foot-tall minotaur walking down Fifth Avenue. That's not something their brain knows how to process, so instead, it turns into, I dunno, a really big guy in a weird costume. Because that's easier than questioning reality."

Elias frowned. "But Ramirez saw your bow."

"Yeah, because a bow isn't impossible. It's unusual, but not outside the realm of normal. His brain went: Okay, weird kid, weird hobby. Moving on. But something truly supernatural? That's where the mind panics." Julian grinned.

"Ever wonder why, in every monster sighting, nobody ever gets a clear picture? Why witnesses say stuff like 'it was dark' or 'I must've imagined it' instead of hey, I saw a giant, fire-breathing nightmare beast?"

Elias mulled that over. "Because the brain wants to rationalize it."

"Exactly. We all have preconceived notions of how the world works. The second something shatters those rules, the brain either bends reality to fit its expectations or just straight-up ignores it. It's survival instinct. If humans actually accepted everything they saw? They'd go nuts."

Elias let that sink in, rubbing his chin. "So if I had, say, a giant, glowing sword…"

Julian popped the last piece of bagel into his mouth. "Some people might see a weirdly long flashlight. Others, a really aggressive neon sign. One guy might think it's a fancy, overpriced yoga prop."

"A yoga prop?!"

Julian grinned. "People will believe anything as long as it doesn't break their version of reality."

Elias groaned, dropping his head onto the desk with a dull thud. "I hate magic."

Julian patted his back. "You'll get used to it."

Elias stayed slumped against the desk, his forehead pressed to the cool surface as Julian continued munching away like they hadn't just had a conversation about how reality was basically a suggestion.

But something about it gnawed at him.

Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes narrowing in thought. "Okay… but if that's how it works—if the human brain is designed to filter out the impossible—then why am I seeing all of this now?"

Julian tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Elias gestured vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything ridiculous that had happened in the last day. "I mean, I've been alive for thirty years. I've walked through New York a million times. If there were monsters running around, shouldn't my brain have just… ignored them? Turned them into weirdly aggressive raccoons or something?"

Julian opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned.

"That's… a good question," he admitted.

Elias let out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, fantastic. So you don't have all the answers."

Julian scowled, shoving the last bite of bagel in his mouth. "Look, I'm not omniscient, man. You're asking why your brain stopped playing by the rules, and I don't know." He chewed, considering. "Maybe it was always possible for you to see things, and something just… flipped the switch."

Elias didn't find that comforting. "What kind of switch?"

Julian shrugged. "Could be anything. Trauma, near-death experience, divine intervention, dumb luck—"

Elias stared. "You just described my entire night."

Julian snapped his fingers. "Exactly!"

Elias groaned. "That wasn't an answer."

Julian leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. "I mean, I could lie to you, if that would make you feel better."

Elias pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pass."

But the unease remained. Because Julian might not have an answer, but that didn't mean one didn't exist. Something had changed. Something had yanked Elias out of the safe, rational world he knew and thrown him headfirst into a reality where hellhounds chased him through city streets and smug teenagers lectured him about brain chemistry.

"So, what now?" He tried for casual, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. "Because I don't think hiding in my office and hoping the hellhounds develop a fear of antiseptic is a sustainable plan."

Julian didn't joke. He didn't even smirk. That, more than anything, set Elias on edge. Instead, Julian's posture shifted—calculated, alert. He wasn't just thinking. He was assessing.

"We need answers," Julian said, his voice lower now, more deliberate. "Why the hellhounds are here. Why they're this aggressive. And most importantly—why they're after you."

A cold weight settled in Elias's gut. The creeping, uncomfortable kind that came with realizing you were no longer just an observer in something bigger—you were the target.

"So we are sure about that?" His voice dropped with the question. "It's not just… I don't know, wrong place, wrong time?"

Julian gave him a flat look. "You were the only new variable last night. I was supposed to meet a contact at Carl Schurz Park. Then, out of nowhere, a hellhound jumps me like I owe it money. And you showed up." He crossed his arms. "That's not a coincidence."

Elias dragged a hand down his face. This was insane. He was a surgeon. A human surgeon. His biggest problems should be dealing with insurance paperwork and trying to squeeze in a full night's sleep—not becoming some supernatural chew toy.

"Fantastic," he muttered. "And how exactly do we get those answers? Interview the next hellhound we see? 'Excuse me, Mr. Demon Dog, could you fill out this short survey on why you're ruining my life?'"

Julian smirked. "Tempting. But I have a better idea."

He pushed himself up from the floor, the movement fluid and purposeful. That was never a good sign.

Elias eyed him warily. "You do?"

Julian opened his mouth—

Then Elias checked his watch and groaned.

"Hold that thought."

Julian frowned. "What?"

Elias sighed, already standing. "I have a shift."

Julian blinked, like the word had personally offended him. "A what?"

"A shift," Elias repeated, incredulous. "Job? Responsibilities? The thing where I put on scrubs and prevent people from dying?" He gestured at himself. "Doctor. Surgeon. Lives in a hospital. Ring any bells?"

Julian stared at him as if he had just suggested stopping for groceries in the middle of a monster invasion. "Right," he said slowly. "Mortal obligations. Time schedules. Responsibilities." He wrinkled his nose, like even saying the word responsibilities was painful.

Elias rolled his eyes and grabbed his stethoscope, the familiar weight settling around his neck. Despite everything, it grounded him.

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta keep the lights on. Even if the world's apparently ending and hellhounds have made me their personal chew toy."

Julian gave a solemn nod. "Noble. Very noble."

Elias narrowed his eyes. "You're going to eat more stolen hospital bagels while I'm gone, aren't you?"

Julian gasped, clutching his chest. "I am offended by these baseless accusations."

Elias sighed. He was already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.