Dark Path (Part 5)

Rayen glanced around once more, his mind still struggling to grasp whether everything that had happened last night was real or just a strange dream. Elara hadn't said anything yet either, as if she was weighing her thoughts.

The bakery woman placed breakfast on the table—warm bread, butter, and sweet tea. Her tone was completely ordinary, as if nothing unusual had happened.

"You both look very tired," she said softly. "Maybe it's the exhaustion from traveling?"

Elara quietly picked up a piece of bread, but Rayen's gaze remained fixed on the back door—the same door through which they had followed Anaïs into that strange mansion last night. Now, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary wooden door. As if there had never been anything beyond it.

"Rayen?" Elara's voice held a hint of unease. "Are you okay?"

Rayen quickly turned his eyes to her face. There was a strange restlessness in Elara's expression, as if she wanted to say something but was holding back.

Just then, the bakery woman let out a light chuckle. "Oh, by the way, if you need to go to the market, you should leave early. There will be a crowd today. Everyone is passing through here."

Rayen simply nodded, but deep inside, something felt off. Why did it seem like things weren't as normal as they appeared?

And then… something strange happened.

When the bakery woman picked up a spoon to clear the table, for a brief moment, her fingers looked unfamiliar. Completely pale, cold… as if they belonged to someone else.

But in the very next second, everything was normal again.

Rayen glanced at Elara, and she quietly took a sip of her tea—but her fingers had tightened around the cup.

As if she had felt it too.

Rayen glanced at the bakery woman once more. Her smile was exactly the same as before, but now it seemed unnaturally forced. Was this just his mind playing tricks on him, or was there truly something off about her?

Elara quietly picked up a napkin from the table and wiped her hands, lost in thought. Then she took the last sip of her tea, exhaled softly, and said, "We should go to the market."

Rayen only nodded, but his thoughts were still tangled in the events of last night. That house… that darkness… Anaïs…

As they stepped out of the bakery, the sudden brightness of the sun made their eyes squint. The town looked completely normal—people chattering, small shops lining the streets, the usual rhythm of daily life. As if it wasn't the same place that had felt like a strange, otherworldly realm just the night before.

But then… something strange happened.

As Rayen and Elara walked through the bustling market, passing by a row of shops, Elara suddenly stopped in her tracks.

Her cloth bag slipped from her fingers, and small items scattered onto the ground.

At first, Rayen thought she had simply been startled by the sound of something falling. But when he turned to look at her face… his blood ran cold.

Elara's eyes were frozen in place.

Inside the shop, standing behind the counter like an ordinary shopkeeper, was a girl. She held an old, worn-out diary in her hands, calmly closing it.

Anaïs.

Rayen's breath hitched.

He blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear a hallucination.

This wasn't possible. This had to be a dream…

Elara's fingers remained motionless for a moment, as if her mind refused to accept what she was seeing. Beside her, Rayen instinctively took two steps back, his gaze locked on Anaïs.

But Anaïs didn't react at all. It was as if she were looking at two complete strangers.

Rayen was about to say something—his throat tightening with disbelief—but before he could, Elara grabbed his hand firmly. Her grip was both reassuring and terrifying.

"Elara…" Rayen whispered, his voice unsteady. "This… this is really—"

Elara cut him off, her eyes still fixed on Anaïs. "We need to talk to her."

Rayen hesitated, then gave a slow nod. Together, they stepped inside.

The shop felt like a section of an old library—walls lined with books, shelves filled with tiny candles, and a strange scent that was both comforting and unsettling, like a mix of the finest perfume and damp earth.

Anaïs was still closing the diary when Elara moved closer, her eyes drifting to the girl's hands. The lines on her palms were the same as last night… but something about them felt unfamiliar.

"Anaïs," Elara said softly.

Anaïs lifted her head and looked at them for a brief moment. But there was no recognition in her eyes. No sign that she had ever seen them before.

"Yes?" Her voice was calm, carrying the practiced warmth of a shopkeeper's smile. "Do you need any help?"

Rayen felt a strange weight pressing against his chest. "You… how are you here?"

Anaïs tilted her head slightly, as if the question puzzled her. "I've always been here."

Elara's smile faltered. "You don't know us?"

Anaïs let out a light, polite laugh. "I don't recall ever meeting you."

Rayen and Elara exchanged a glance. The fear on their faces was unmistakable.

It was the kind of fear that came when everything you thought you knew—everything that felt real—was suddenly ripped away.

Rayen stared at Anaïs, suspicion darkening his gaze. "Last night… we were with you. Weren't we?"

Anaïs let out a light chuckle, as if the question was ridiculous. "Are you both alright? I don't understand what you're trying to say."

Elara stepped closer. "That house… the one we stayed in. Its walls… they weren't the same by morning."

For a split second, something flickered across Anaïs's face—a strange stillness, a brief tension—but then she spoke in the same calm, casual tone. "What do you mean? You two were supposed to leave town. When did you even stay here?"

Elara and Rayen exchanged a look.

That… wasn't right. They had stayed here.

But if Anaïs was telling the truth, then…

"Let's ask the bakery woman," Rayen murmured under his breath.

But as they turned around—

The bakery was gone.