chapter 21 : The Confession That No longer exist

Chapter 21: The Confession That No Longer Exists

The room felt suffocating.

Daniel's fingers hovered over the open safe, his pulse hammering against his skull.

The diary was gone.

Not misplaced. Not stolen. Erased.

His breathing came short and fast as his mind raced. He had written everything down. Everything. The confession, the man's words, the details of the murder. It had been his proof, his anchor to reality.

But now—nothing.

His hands trembled as he ran them over the empty metal walls of the safe.

No scratches. No forced lock. No sign of anyone breaking in.

It was as if the diary had never existed in the first place.

And that terrified him more than anything.

---

The Shadow That Stands Behind

A shiver crawled up Daniel's spine.

The feeling of being watched.

Slowly, he turned.

The church office was silent, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long, flickering shadows across the wooden floor. The heavy scent of incense still lingered in the air.

Empty.

But he wasn't alone.

Something was here.

Or had been.

Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat, his hands balling into fists.

For a moment, he considered calling the police. Reporting the missing diary, the break-in.

But would they believe him?

He had already barely escaped their suspicion.

And now, the only evidence proving his innocence was gone.

No.

He needed to find it himself.

---

The Safehouse That Shouldn't Exist

The rain drizzled as Daniel made his way down the desolate alleyway, his coat pulled tight around him. The city felt eerily empty, the streetlights flickering as if struggling to stay alive.

He hadn't been to the safehouse in years.

Not since—

Don't think about that.

His footsteps echoed against the damp pavement as he approached the rusted metal door at the end of the alley.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Something about this felt wrong.

Like he wasn't supposed to be here.

He pressed forward.

The door was already unlocked.

Daniel's breath hitched.

He hadn't given anyone access.

Slowly, cautiously, he stepped inside.

The room was dark, dust settling over the old furniture like a forgotten relic. The scent of aged wood and damp paper filled the air.

And on the desk—

A single book.

Daniel's chest tightened.

It was his diary.

Or at least—it looked like it.

But something was off.

He approached it slowly, his hands trembling as he flipped it open.

The pages weren't blank.

But they weren't his words.

> "We were never here."

"You were never here."

"You will forget again."

Daniel's head spun.

What was this? Who had written this?

More importantly—why was it in his handwriting?

---

The Man Who Shouldn't Be There

A floorboard creaked.

Daniel froze.

His fingers tightened around the diary as he turned.

A shadow moved in the doorway.

And then—

A man stepped forward.

Daniel's breath hitched.

His face—

He knew that face.

He had seen it in the interrogation room.

The suspect.

The man who had confessed to the murder.

The man who had pointed at him and said, "He's the one."

But now, face to face, Daniel saw something different.

The man's expression was eerily calm.

And his eyes—

Not accusing. Not afraid.

Knowing.

He knew something.

Daniel's voice came out hoarse. "Who are you?"

The man smiled.

And then—he spoke.

> "Do you remember me now?"

Daniel's pulse pounded.

His head throbbed as memories—false memories? Real ones?—flashed through his mind.

Had they met before?

His grip tightened on the diary. "I don't know you."

The man tilted his head. His eyes flickered to the book in Daniel's hands.

> "That's not yours anymore."

Daniel swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

The man took a slow step forward.

> "That's not the original."

Daniel's breath caught in his throat.

He glanced down at the diary, the cryptic words glaring back at him.

Not the original?

The real diary—

Was somewhere else.

Changed.

Altered.

Erased.

His stomach twisted.

"What do you know?" Daniel demanded.

The man didn't answer.

Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small, something metallic.

Daniel's blood ran cold.

A key.

And engraved on it—

A symbol.

A fractured iris.

Mnemosyne.

Daniel's heart slammed against his ribs.

The man placed the key on the table.

Then, as if this had all been prearranged, he turned and walked toward the door.

Daniel's pulse hammered. "Wait—"

But the man was already gone.

Daniel rushed after him—

The alley was empty.

No footprints. No lingering shadow.

Gone.

Like he had never been there in the first place.

---

The Key That Unlocks Everything

Daniel returned to the diary, flipping through the pages again.

The words blurred. Shifted.

And then—

At the very back—

A new message.

Written in his own hand.

But he had never written this.

> "You don't have much time."

"They already know you're looking."

"The real diary is still inside."

"Find Room 19."

Daniel's blood ran cold.

His head snapped to the key.

His fingers hovered over it, hesitant.

> No.

This wasn't real.

This couldn't be real.

And yet—

His instincts told him otherwise.

His past was gone. His memories rewritten.

And now—

The only truth left was waiting behind a locked door.

Daniel clenched his jaw.

Then, without another second of hesitation, he grabbed the key—

And walked out the door.

---