His Euphoric Ordeal

Unknown messages

Three unknown men roam through the darkness.

They wear long cloaks that swallow their figures and smooth porcelain masks that hide their identities completely. In the dim light, they appear almost unreal—like ghosts drifting through the night rather than human beings.

No one knows who they are.

No one even knows if they truly exist.

But people whisper about them.

Legends say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. That’s why no one dares to look into their eyes. Because the few who claim they have say there’s nothing there.

No warmth.

No humanity.

Just endless, pitch-black holes.

And once you stare into them—

you’re already doomed.

That’s how dark their souls are.

So if you ever see them…

Run for your life.

Fear them.

.

“Yeah Mom, I’ll be careful, don’t worry,” you say with a laugh, leaning back lazily in your chair, clearly not believing a single word she just said.

.

“Don’t joke around,” she replies sternly through the phone. “You need to be careful. Carry pepper spray with you. And a kitchen knife too, just in case.”

.

You roll your eyes.

“Fine, fine. I’ll do as you say…”

.

You glance up at the girl sitting across from you.

“Right, Avni?” you ask.

.

Avni looks up suddenly, clearly distracted. She had been busy checking out a guy sitting a few tables away.

“Yeah?—Oh. Y-yeah, right Aunty,” she quickly says, adjusting her glasses. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.”

.

Your mom sighs heavily from the other side of the call, already knowing you aren’t taking this seriously.

.

“Take care, baccha. Bye.”

“I will, Mumma. Don’t worry. Take care of yourself and Papa. Bye.”

.

You hang up and toss the phone into your purse.

Letting out a lazy sigh, you take another sip from your drink.

.

“It’s all bullshit, man,” you mutter. “Those cloaked guys are probably just drunk or pulling some Halloween prank.”

“It is real, Y/N,” Avni replies, frowning slightly. “You’re just too stubborn to believe anything.”

“C’mon, Avi,” you scoff, making air quotes with your fingers. “How can a human even do things like that? It’s insane.”

Avni gives you an annoyed look.

“Whatever. Leave it,” you say with a shrug. “Anyway, the café’s closing soon. We should head out.”

.

But deep inside you, something stirs.

A strange, quiet awareness.

There’s a malevolence buried within you—an eerie darkness that whispers that nothing in this world could possibly be worse than what already lives inside your own heart.

After all…

.

You committed murder when you were just a child.

Even now, the thought sits heavy in your chest, like a stone tied to your ribs.

It fills you with a constant, suffocating self-loathing.

You finish your drink and place the cup down a little harder than necessary.

Avni notices immediately.

Through the rim of her glasses, she sends you a disapproving look before shaking her head slightly and finishing the last sip of her drink.

Outside the large glass window of the café, the streets have already fallen silent.

Empty.

Dark.

The midnight-blue sky is covered with thick rain clouds, hiding the moon completely. The world outside feels dim and oddly lifeless.

Your phone suddenly vibrates inside your pocket.

Pulling it out, you unlock the screen.

A new notification flashes.

.

★ Unknown sent a message ★

Unknown: I can see you.

You raise an eyebrow.

You: Really? Oh wow. How’s my outfit? Do I look attractive enough?

Seen — 20:44 ✓

.

You stare at the screen, waiting for another reply.

None comes.

Who even sends messages like that?

Some childish prank, probably.

.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” Avni says, standing up.

“Ah, yes. Chalo.”

.

You both gather your things and walk toward the exit.

As you push the café door open, a sharp gust of cold air slaps against your face.

The chill seeps straight through your clothes.

Shivering, you quickly zip up your hoodie and shove your hands into the pockets.

It’s only October, so it shouldn’t be this cold yet.

But winter seems eager this year.

.

“By the way, Avi,” you say as you walk down the quiet street, “what exactly do these cloaked guys even do?”

Avni nudges a small stone along the pavement with her shoe as she walks.

“I don’t know everything,” she says slowly, “but from what I’ve heard… they choose their victims first.”

Your brows knit together slightly.

“They keep watching them,” she continues. “Observing their routines… learning everything about them.”

A strange chill creeps down your spine.

“And before they take them…” Avni adds quietly, “they send warning messages.”

.

You remain silent.

Of course, you still don’t believe any of it.

But some small part of your mind refuses to completely ignore what she just said.

.

“Uh… Avi,” you say after a moment, stopping at a crossing. “You don’t need to drop me home. I can go by myself from here.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “Your mom sounded pretty worried.”

“Yeah. And it’ll get late for you too.”

Avni hesitates before shrugging.

“Alright. Bye, bub.”

She pulls you into a quick hug.

You stiffen slightly, surprised by the gesture, before patting her back.

“Bye.”

.

You both part ways.

You work at the local coffee shop mostly for pocket money.

Ironically, your family has been wealthy for generations.

You could easily live off the money your parents give you.

But you don’t want that.

You want independence.

Freedom.

Even though your parents insisted on buying you a luxurious house—more like a small bungalow—you refused everything else.

No maids.

No helpers.

.

You wanted to live on your own terms.

You’re still a student.

You still have ambitions.

Even if deep down you sometimes doubt you’ll live past twenty-five.

Suicide, however, is never an option.

To you, it’s a pitiful and cowardly death.

Instead…

You punish yourself slowly.

With the pack of cigarettes you always keep in your pocket.

After all, you believe you deserve it.

For what happened when you were eleven.

For what you did that day.

.

“Y/N… don’t leave me…”

A trembling voice echoes in your memory.

“They’re watching us. Please don’t do this… they said they’re making you do this.”

The boy’s wide, terrified eyes look like those of a frightened deer.

“Ishan, you’re such a coward,” you had laughed.

“I’m doing this because it’s fun.”

You grabbed his hand.

“Come on. Let’s jump.”

You shake your head sharply, forcing the memory away.

The street ahead of you is unusually quiet.

The streetlights flicker strangely.

The air feels… hotter.

Your phone vibrates again.

*Ding.*