Faceless

One night at 3 AM, Lukman woke up, feeling the urgent need to use the bathroom. Without wasting time, he got up and went straight to the toilet. After finishing his business, he stepped out and happened to glance at the kitchen window.

His bathroom was right in front of the kitchen, and through the window, he could see outside. Before heading back to his room, he took a quick look at the window—just a passing glance.

That was when his breath caught in his throat.

There, standing outside the window, was a figure.

At this hour?

Lukman blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes, and looked again.

The figure was gone.

Nothing was there. No shadow, no sign that anyone had ever stood in that spot.

He let out a shaky breath. Maybe he was just imagining things. Sleep deprivation, most likely. Shrugging off the eerie feeling, he returned to bed and eventually fell asleep.

---

The next morning, Lukman woke up and went about his usual routine—showering, tidying his room, and then heading out to find breakfast at a nearby stall.

Lukman lived alone in a rented room near the city, working at a café quite far from his place. Since he had the morning shift that day, he quickly finished his meal and prepared to leave.

On the way to work, he took public transportation as usual. While sitting inside the small minibus, he overheard a group of middle-aged women gossiping.

They were talking about a strange sighting—someone standing outside a window late at night.

Lukman's stomach twisted.

Hadn't he seen something like that too?

His thoughts were interrupted when one of the women said something that sent chills down his spine.

"That thing… it had no face. Just… smooth skin. No eyes, no nose, no mouth."

A cold shiver ran down Lukman's back.

Before he could hear more, the minibus stopped in front of the café. His stop. He hurriedly got off, pushing the eerie story to the back of his mind.

---

Lukman entered the café, clocked in, and changed into his uniform. Then, as part of his morning routine, he started cleaning up and preparing for the day's customers.

But something felt… off.

The usual morning bustle was absent. No honking cars outside. No early customers waiting at the entrance. Just silence.

As he swept near the large window, he noticed something in the reflection.

A shadow.

Someone was standing behind him.

His breath hitched. He spun around—

No one was there.

Only empty tables and the faint aroma of coffee lingering in the air.

He shook his head and resumed his work. He was just being paranoid. That was all.

But the unsettling feeling wouldn't leave him.

While passing by the storage room, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. That was strange. It was supposed to be locked.

Cautiously, he stepped closer.

Inside the dimly lit room, his eyes adjusted to the darkness—

And that was when he saw it.

A figure.

Standing in the corner, unmoving.

It was barely visible in the shadows, but there was something horrifyingly wrong with it.

It had no face.

Lukman's breath hitched. His hands trembled. He forced himself to blink, to look away—

When he looked back, the figure moved.

Lukman stumbled backward. He tried to slam the door shut—

But then he heard it.

A whisper.

"I know you saw me last night."

Panic surged through him. He slammed the door shut with all his strength and bolted out of the café.

---

As he stood outside, gasping for air, someone tapped his shoulder.

"Wah!" Lukman flinched, stepping back in shock.

"Whoa, dude! It's just me."

It was Sarah, his coworker. She raised an eyebrow. "What's up with you? Jumping like that over a tap?"

Lukman let out a shaky laugh. "Oh… Sarah. It's nothing."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"It's… it's fine. Just a flying cockroach."

Sarah made a face. "Ugh, that's worse than a ghost. Did you get rid of it?"

"Yeah. Chased me outside first, though."

"Well, whatever. Come on, let's get back inside."

Lukman hesitated, glancing back at the café, but eventually followed her in.

He continued cleaning, but his nerves remained on edge.

---

Once the café opened and they waited for customers, Sarah suddenly asked,

"Hey, Lukman, have you heard about the faceless ghost that roams this area?"

Lukman froze. His grip on the counter tightened.

"…Yeah," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah snorted. "Do you actually believe in that stuff? I think it's just a dumb urban legend."

At that moment, Lukman heard it again.

A creak.

The storage room door was opening.

Slowly.

His body tensed. Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck.

"Lukman?" Sarah's voice snapped him back. She was staring at him, concerned. "Dude, you okay?"

Lukman barely registered her words. His mind was still stuck on what he saw in the morning—on what was possibly standing just beyond that storage door.

He only snapped out of it when a customer walked in.

Shoving down his terror, he forced himself to act normal.

After serving the customer, he risked a glance at the storage room.

The door was shut.

Had it ever opened in the first place?

---

During lunch break, when their shift ended, Lukman and Sarah sat in the break room.

Sarah eyed him suspiciously. "Okay, spill. What's going on with you today?"

Lukman hesitated before finally telling her everything.

The figure at his window. The faceless shadow in the storage room. The whisper.

Sarah chuckled at first. "Come on, Luk. You've been watching too many horror movies."

But when Lukman didn't laugh, when she saw how pale his face was, her amusement faded.

"Alright, alright. Maybe you're just tired," she said. "Lack of sleep can mess with your mind."

Lukman wanted to believe that. Truly.

But the unease gnawed at him.

---

That night, he returned to his apartment. The streets were empty, his room quiet. For the first time that day, he felt somewhat safe.

Exhausted, he collapsed onto his bed. His eyelids grew heavy.

Then.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A soft knocking.

From the window.

Lukman's blood ran cold.

Slowly, with held breath, he turned his head.

Outside the window, barely visible in the dim light—

Was himself.

Lukman.

Standing there.

Identical in every way… except for one thing.

The face.

It was blank. Smooth. Devoid of features.

And then—

It spoke.

Without a mouth, without moving, its voice echoed in Lukman's mind.

"I know you saw me last night."

Lukman's heart stopped. He wanted to run, but his body refused to move.

The faceless Lukman smiled.

And then, it raised a pale hand.

On the glass, it slowly wrote:

"It's time to switch."

Darkness swallowed Lukman whole.

---

The next morning, his apartment was swarming with police and neighbors.

A body had been found.

A young man, lying on the floor, still wearing his work uniform.

Something was wrong with him.

His face—

Was gone.

Erased.

Sarah, who had come along, felt bile rise in her throat. "No… Lukman…"

In the crowd, someone was watching silently.

Sarah turned.

Lukman stood there, staring at the body. Expressionless.

"…Lukman?" she called.

Slowly, he smiled.

It was… perfect.

Not too wide, not too small.

As if he had just learned how to do it.

And from that day on—

"Lukman" continued living his life.