It was almost half past ten. Working overtime has its own ill effects, I guess. “Akane… you gotta take it easy!” my boss often insisted. But I was restlessly looking forward to my marriage with Akira, our home together. I gotta earn as much as I can.

  As I entered my apartment, I let out a sigh. It was lonely. The apartment, where I once enjoyed solitude, now felt lonesome very often. “Love changes people in unexpected ways, huh?” I chuckled.

  I got into the bathroom and turned the faucet on. Hot water filled the bath, and cloudy steam filled the entire place. Good for such cold weather. I was totally beat, so I didn’t care much about disposing of my office clothes properly. I unbuttoned them and left them on the floor in the hallway, then got into the bath with my inners on. I always found it weird to get into the bath naked. As soon as I soaked, I stripped myself naked and let the steaming water soothe my tired muscles. Only after soaking head to toe did I realize that I had forgotten to bring my old iPod. Baths without music would bore me to death, as I’m the type who stays in baths for a long time.

  As I soaked, suddenly, the water pressed me down. It was one of the few drawbacks of being short. At five feet five, I was still much smaller compared to my bath. I gripped the handrail, steadying myself against the sudden force.

  I was from a well-off family, and so I could afford this modestly luxurious apartment in downtown Bunkyō. I had been living here for the past three years, after I moved from Chiba.

  I was drying my hair in my bedroom when my phone rang in the hallway. I turned off the hair dryer and ran towards my phone. There was no name. I pondered deeply, calculating every possibility. Finally, I concluded that it must have been the Kitomori family that moved next to my apartment recently. I picked up, thinking they might be calling for a formal introduction.

  “Hello, this is Yuuki Akane. May I know who this is?” I responded formally, totally expecting Kitomori Nene—my new neighbour—to speak on the other end.

  The other end was static. There was no reply.

  “Hello?” I said.

  The only reply was the static.

  Just as I was about to hang up, there was a sudden yell on the other end. My heart skipped a beat at the sudden yell. I slipped on my shirt that was on the floor and reached out to grasp the wall. A small face mirror that hung fell and shattered. Blood trickled down from the inner edge of my palm. Calming down, I focused on the call, reaching towards the sink to wash the blood off.

  “…gonna…blackout…water…” I could hear the person on the other end yelling frantically. Not that I could figure out what they were trying to tell me.

  “What?” I spoke, half-hoping to receive a reply, as I saw the water tinged red with my blood find its way into the sink.

  “Water…from sink…gonna be a blackout…protect…mirror.”

  “Mirror? If you mean that one, I’m afraid it’s already shattered,” I replied, drying my hands.

  I looked up at the digital clock. The time was 11:22. Suddenly, all the lights in my apartment went out. Is this what they mentioned in the call about a blackout? I wondered.

  “Power…back…call Akira…before…too late…tower…burn” were the last words I heard as the line went completely static again.

  As I hung up, I couldn’t help but feel a bit terrified. I was sure I heard that there was going to be a blackout. If whoever spoke meant the water from the sink was somehow paradoxically responsible for this blackout (not that I believed it completely), then they were a bit late in warning me to protect the mirror from falling.

  The battery powered clock showed that it was 11:25.

  It must definitely be a coincidence, I reassured myself, but no matter how foolish one might be, they would never ignore the fact that whoever spoke clearly knew what was going to happen. The mirror fell and injured my hand, and only because of that did I need to use the sink. And if that water was the reason for the blackout…

  My brain froze as I stood still, terrified. I rushed towards my bedroom where I had left my emergency lamp. I turned it on, and only then did I let out a sigh of relief, being able to see where I stood. I sat on the couch, calming down, analyzing the frantic phone call I had received not more than five minutes ago. But the more I thought about it, the less sense it made, and the deeper my fear sank in.

  I should call Akira and ask him to come over, I thought. But what if it was a prank call and I ended up causing unnecessary disturbance to him in the middle of the night? Still, I dialed, ignoring my hesitation. If it was actually a prank, he would understand my fears—but what if it wasn’t a prank?

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  I was unable to reach him. I tried repeatedly and failed every time to get through to him. I had a perfect signal. This terrified me even more.

  Refusing to believe otherwise and strongly holding onto the self-made conclusion that the phone call was a prank and this blackout was just another blackout, I slumped on my couch, waiting for the power to return.

  It was eerily quiet in there, so I decided to go and get my iPod. Some music would definitely help calm me down. I got off the couch, lifted the lamp, and trudged my way into the bedroom.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  From my early days, I’ve been extremely sensitive to sudden noises. Crashing utensils, party poppers, thunderstorms—you name it, I fear it. So, this sudden knocking unnerved me as I cautiously walked toward the door.

  “Ms. Yuuki,” a calm female voice called out.

  Through the stranger lens, I saw that it was my neighbor, Mrs. Kitomori Nene. I unlatched and yanked the door open. She looked shorter and slimmer than I remembered from the first day we met. She too, like myself, was holding an emergency lamp.

  “Ahh, Mrs. Kitomori! What a shame to have our first proper talk in this awful situation!” I made sure to slightly over-tinge my tone with politeness.

  “Yes, right? The blackout seems awful, doesn’t it, Ms. Yuuki?” Her voice was much sweeter in person than when coming through the door.

  “Oh, please, call me Akane!” I insisted. “Would you like to come in, Mrs. Kitomori?”

  “If you’ll have me, Ms. Akane!” she replied. I stepped aside from the entrance, and as she entered my apartment, she softly said, “Pardon my intrusion.”

  I gestured for her to sit on the couch while I hurried to the fridge, hoping to find some juice or iced tea. All I could find were beer cans. Will she think I drink a lot if I offer her beer? This is her first visit, after all! My mind raced as I hesitated. I yelled from the kitchen if she would like to have beer. She agreed. Finally, I grabbed two cans and returned to the couch.

  “Here, please have it,” I said, handing her a can.

  “Thank you, Ms. Akane!” she smiled warmly.

  We sipped our beers, having a casual conversation as neighbors—about work, my upcoming marriage with Akira (which made me blush, while she sighed, “Ahh, to be young,” even though she was barely older than me), and a few other things. She even insisted that I call her Nene.

  But as the conversation flowed, her smile suddenly faded, almost unconsciously, as she stared off into nothingness.

  “Ms. Akane, you must be wondering what brings me here at such a late hour, right?”

  “Not at all! It’s fun talking—” I began, but she cut me off.

  “My husband is away for work, and I don’t do well alone at night… and to make things worse, this blackout…” she sighed.

  I could relate to her feelings, at least a little. So I jumped to my feet.

  “You know what, Ms. Nene,” I half-yelled, “let’s get drunk and have a girls’ night! What do you say?”

  I wasn’t sure why I said it, but I was relieved to have company on this dark night. Maybe I thought that getting drunk together would drive away the unease we both felt.

  As I made my way, I noticed the clock. It was still showing 11:25. The seconds were ticking forward normally. I stood there, watching as the seconds reached 59, then 0—but the minute hand stayed stuck on 25. It’s just a broken clock, my brain reasoned, but my gut screamed otherwise.

  I continued toward the kitchen and froze in utter terror. Nene stood there, glancing at me.

  “Ah, it’s you, Mrs. Nene. You scared me!” I panted frantically, wondering how she had ended up there.

  “Did you know, Ms. Akane? The telephone tower nearby has caught fire,” she said casually, almost as though she were commenting on the weather.

  “Is that so?” I replied, standing still. I hesitated, debating whether it would seem awkward if I opened the fridge now—it had so many beer cans.

  “Yeah… it was exactly at 11:23, I guess.”

  This woman was definitely creeping me out. For someone who had just said she didn’t handle being alone well, it was extremely strange for her to know about an outside event with such precise timing.

  “11:23?” I repeated, unsure of what else to say.

  “Yeah, 11:23. One minute after your stipulated time to call Akira for help. So it had already been two minutes since the tower caught fire when you dialed him!”

  For a split second, my heart nearly stopped. Then I felt it—pounding furiously against the walls of my chest.

  I hadn’t mentioned that I called Akira.

  But she knew.

  And not just that—I hadn’t even known the exact time myself.

  “What are you talking about, Mrs. Kitomori?” I stood there, baffled. Has this lady lost her mind or what?

  “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Ms. Akane?” Even in the dim light, I could clearly see her expression. The smile on her face was cold and menacing—creepy enough to send a chill racing down my spine.

  “You’re seriously creeping me out now, Mrs. Kitomori,” I said, forcing a nervous laugh as I took a few cautious steps backward.

  “You broke the mirror, didn’t you?” she said softly, her eyes drifting toward the knife stand on the marble counter next to the dishwasher.

  Before I could respond, her hand darted to the knife stand, fingers wrapping around the newest blade. It was long, unnervingly sharp, and bore a single, deliberate engraving on the handle: the letter ‘K.’ I don’t know if I bought it or it was a gift. Not that it mattered now.

  “It… it was an accident!” I stammered, my voice shaky as I instinctively took another step back.

  Mrs. Kitomori ran her index finger along the blunt edge of the knife, slowly, as though savoring the sensation. Her finger stopped at the tip of the blade, where she paused for a moment before glancing up at me again.

  I had been stepping backward gradually, and that’s when I realized I had reached the hallway leading to the living room. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed what I already feared—the distance between me and the main door was much greater than the distance between me and her. I could try to make a run for it, but if she caught me, I didn’t even want to imagine what would happen.

  Her movements shifted in an instant. She broke into a sprint, closing the distance with terrifying speed. My instincts took over. My heart pounded in my chest as I turned and bolted toward the door, my entire being screaming for survival.

  But my flight was short-lived. My feet gave way beneath me, and I fell hard onto the floor, landing on my tailbone with a force so jarring that I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d fractured something. Dazed and panicked, I quickly looked down to see what had caused me to slip.

  What I saw froze me to the core.

  A pool of dark red blood had seeped into my apartment, spreading slowly from underneath the main door. It glistened ominously in the faint glow of the emergency lamp I’d dropped.

  I lifted my gaze, trembling, and saw her approaching me. Her slow, deliberate steps made the scene all the more menacing. The knife in her hand gleamed, and her face twisted into an expression of deranged satisfaction.

  “Not only did you break the mirror,” she hissed, her voice cold and otherworldly, “but you also tried to escape the judgment that verily awaits you, Ms. Akane.”

  Her words were strange, distant, as though they didn’t belong to this time or place.

  “I… I don’t understand what’s going on!” I sobbed, crawling backward in sheer desperation. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please, just leave me alone!”

  Tears streamed down my face as I screamed, hoping—praying—that this was just a nightmare. That I would wake up before her blade came down. But no amount of hope could suppress the dreadful realization.

  This was real.