Episode 2:a name in the dark

Opening Scene – The Haunting Echoes

Lucien Vale hadn’t slept. The weight of the journal pressed against his chest, its words repeating in his mind like a chant.

“No matter the life, no matter the time… we always meet again. But I can never save her.”

The words weren’t just written—they were carved into the pages, as if someone had pressed the pen too hard, desperate to make the message permanent.

His room felt heavier than usual. The air was thick, suffocating. He glanced at the window, where last night, he had seen something—no, someone—watching him. But now, the glass reflected only his own exhausted face.

Still, something felt off.

Lucien closed his eyes, trying to breathe. And then—

A whisper.

Soft. Nearly imperceptible.

“Lucien.”

His eyes snapped open.

The lights flickered once. Twice. Then the room plunged into darkness.

A deep, suffocating silence filled the space.

Then, just behind him—a shadow moved.

⸻

A Name He Shouldn’t Know

By morning, the unsettling events of the night still clung to him like a second skin. He left his apartment, hoping the fresh air would clear his head, but the city felt different today.

The people. The buildings. Even the air itself. It all felt… staged. Like something was watching.

Then, he saw her.

Celeste Moren.

She stood by a café window, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. Lucien’s breath caught in his throat.

He shouldn’t know her name.

But he did.

And when she turned her head, meeting his gaze, he felt something inside him shift.

A memory that wasn’t his flashed before his eyes—

Celeste, standing beneath cherry blossoms. Laughing. Holding his hand.

Celeste, crying in the rain, whispering his name.

Celeste… bleeding. Reaching for him. Then—darkness.

Lucien staggered back. His vision blurred for half a second, the world around him flickering like a glitch in reality.

Celeste tilted her head slightly. “Are you alright?”

Lucien’s throat went dry. His pulse pounded in his ears.

Before he could speak, a deafening BANG rang through the air.

A car slammed into a streetlight. The glass shattered, sparks flying. People screamed, rushing away.

Lucien barely heard them.

Because Celeste—the woman he had just seen standing in front of him—was gone.

As if she had never been there.

⸻

The First Clue

That night, Lucien sat at his desk, gripping the old journal like a lifeline. The pages were filled with frantic writing, entries from someone who knew the truth before he did.

One line sent ice through his veins.

“She always dies before I can save her.”

Lucien’s breath came in short gasps.

A gust of wind rattled his window. He turned sharply.

The street below was empty.

But then—

His reflection changed.

The face staring back at him wasn’t his own.

Its eyes were hollow. Shadowed. A dark void where a soul should be.

Lucien whipped around, his heart hammering. Nothing.

But when he turned back to the glass—

A handprint. Pressed against the inside of the window.