The Stranger

Mykal's grip tightened around the phone as he stood frozen, staring at the door.

The knock came again. Louder this time.

He swallowed the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine.

Don't open it.

Instead, he shouted.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

He hesitated, then stepped forward, pressing his eye against the peephole.

Outside stood a man.

Someone his age.

Black hoodie. Hands in his pockets. Face half-hidden under his cap.

Unmoving.

Just standing there.

Something about him felt… off.

Mykal knocked on the door from his side. "Yo. Who are you?"

Silence.

His skin crawled.

"Hey. I asked you a question," he said, voice sharper.

The man still didn't respond.

Just stood there.

Waiting.

Watching.

A sudden thought hit him—What if this guy was the delivery man from before?

The one who gave him the damn phone?

Had he come back for something?

To take it? To say something?

He felt the weight of the phone still in his hand.

Did this guy know about it?

His gut screamed at him to stay put.

But Mykal wasn't the type to back down.

He unlocked the door.

Not fully—just enough to peek through.

"…What do you want?"

The man tilted his head slightly.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"You signed, didn't you?"

A chill ran down Mykal's spine.

His grip on the door tightened.

Signed?

What the hell was this guy talking about?

His mind flicked back to the phone—the prompt. The signature he had given to that delivery guy.

His throat went dry.

"…What?" he muttered.

The man smiled.

Not a friendly one.

Something about it felt wrong.

Then he took a step forward.

"You're one of us now."

The man outside shifted his gaze sideways, scanning the dimly lit hallway as if making sure he wasn't being followed. His body was tense, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.

Then, in a low voice, he said, "Let me in."

Mykal narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell would I do that?"

The stranger leaned in slightly, voice urgent. "I'll tell you everything."

Something about the way he said it made Mykal's stomach churn.

Let him in? No way.

Every part of him screamed that it was a bad idea. This guy could be a scammer, a stalker—hell, maybe even something worse.

But then again... what if he really did know something?

What if he had answers?

Mykal hesitated, glancing down at the phone still clutched in his hand. That cursed device that wouldn't leave him no matter what he did. If this guy knew anything—anything at all—maybe it was worth the risk.

His fingers twitched on the doorknob.

"...Fine."

He opened the door.

The man slipped inside quickly as if afraid someone might see him. Mykal shut the door behind him, locking it out of habit.

Now that they were face-to-face, he could get a better look at the stranger. He wasn't much older than Mykal, maybe in his mid-twenties. Sharp jawline, dark eyes that darted around like he was constantly on edge. His hoodie was slightly damp, like he'd been outside for a while.

Definitely not a delivery guy.

Mykal crossed his arms. "Talk."

The man exhaled, running a hand through his messy hair. "You shouldn't have signed."

Mykal frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The guy motioned toward the phone in Mykal's hand. His expression darkened.

"That contract—it's not what you think it is."

The man's voice was urgent. "Did they send you a copy of the contract?"

Mykal's brow furrowed. "The contract?"

Then it hit him—his email.

After the 'Sign Now' fiasco when the delivery guy delivered the mystery phone, an email popped up in his inbox. At the time, he had ignored it, too caught up in his frustration to care. But now…

Without wasting another second, he grabbed his phone and opened his email.

There it was.

A single unread message with no sender name. Just a subject line:

"Your Contract - Do Not Share."

Mykal swallowed hard and clicked on it.

Inside, there was no body text, no greetings, nothing. Just a single PDF attachment.

Contract.pdf

The file size was small, suspiciously so, as if the document barely contained anything. But the name alone made Mykal uneasy.

He glanced at the stranger, who was watching him closely.

"Open it," the man said.

Mykal hesitated, then tapped the file.

It loaded instantly.

At first, it looked like a normal agreement. A basic contract layout, black text on a white background. But as he read the contents, his stomach twisted into knots.

_____________________________________________________

CONTRACT AGREEMENT

By signing, the User agrees to the following terms:

The User's existence is now linked to the Contract.

Termination of the Contract results in immediate expiration of the User.

The Phone cannot be discarded, destroyed, or abandoned. It will always return to its rightful owner.

The Phone's battery percentage represents the User's remaining lifespan.

The User must comply with instructions when received.

Failure to comply will result in consequences.

_____________________________________________________

Mykal's blood ran cold.

He stared at the screen, heart pounding in his chest.

The battery percentage… represents my lifespan?

Slowly, his eyes drifted to the top-right corner of the phone.

7%.

Seven.

His breath hitched.

Seven percent… was that all the time he has left?

His hands started shaking. He scrolled further down, hoping to find a loophole, an exit clause—anything. But then, at the bottom of the contract, his blood turned to ice.

A single line, written in bold red letters:

THIS CONTRACT CANNOT BE VOIDED.

The mysterious man exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Just as I thought."

Mykal's grip on the phone tightened. "What the hell is this?"

The man leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "It's part of you now. You'll never get rid of it."

Mykal scoffed, still trying to process what he had just read. "No. There has to be a way—"

"There isn't." The man's voice was firm. "I tried everything. Burning it, smashing it, throwing it into the ocean. No matter what you do, it always finds its way back."

Mykal clenched his jaw. "But who the hell even makes something like this?"

The man hesitated before answering. "The company behind it… is one of the biggest in the black market. They specialize in distributing sketchy, untraceable products. But no one really knows where this phone came from. Not even them."

Mykal frowned. "Then how do you know all this?"

The man gave a bitter laugh. "Because I was a victim too."

That made Mykal pause. "…Victim?"

The man nodded. "At first, I enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it?" Mykal repeated, narrowing his eyes.

The man sighed. "Yeah. The phone gives you things—power, information, money… anything you want."

That caught Mykal off guard. "Wait, anything?"

The man gave a slow nod. "Yes. At first, it feels like a blessing. But then… you start to see the cost." His face darkened. "I've grown to hate this thing."

Mykal wasn't sure what to think. A phone that could grant anything? That sounded ridiculous… but then again, none of this was normal.

Still, something about the way the man spoke sent a chill down his spine. "Why?"

The man didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and turned the screen toward Mykal.

Mykal's stomach dropped.

1%.

The battery indicator was sitting at 1%.

The realization struck him like a hammer. "You… only have a year left?"

The man shook his head. "Actually… I only have three days."

Mykal's breath hitched. "What?"

"The percentage drops by one every year. And in three days, mine will hit zero."

Mykal stared at him, horrified. "…And then what happens?"

The man's expression was grim. "You already know."