Eiji’s heart hammered against his ribs. He was the son of , a notorious serial killer who had been executed years ago. Eiji had spent his whole life trying to be the "nice guy," the harmless college student who would never hurt a fly. But as he looked at the receipt—purchasing a heavy-duty tarp and a hacksaw—the terrifying truth began to settle in his gut. He wasn't alone in his own mind.
A second personality, had been carved out of the trauma of his childhood. While Eiji slept, B-I walked. B-I talked. And B-I was currently entangled with a violent gang known as the Skulls . Eiji’s heart hammered against his ribs
Eiji found a hidden folder on his laptop. He clicked it open to find dozens of photos of a crime scene—a girl missing, a pattern that mimicked his father’s old murders. Underneath the photos was a text file titled “To My Dearest Self.” But as he looked at the receipt—purchasing a
His phone buzzed. A text from a girl he barely knew, , read: “You were so different last night. I’ve never seen that side of you. Are we still going to finish what we started?” While Eiji slept, B-I walked
Eiji walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked into the mirror, but for a split second, the reflection didn’t feel like his own. The eyes were too sharp, the smirk too predatory. In the corner of the mirror, tucked into the frame, was a receipt from a hardware store he never visited, dated two days ago.
The morning light felt like a physical weight on eyelids. He woke up with the familiar, sickening sensation of "missing time." The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on Tuesday night; the calendar on his desk now screamed Saturday.