Chapter 6.1: Shadow’s Whisper 

Rain poured like the sky had lost its mind.

Ten stories up, Kaiser stood at the rooftop’s edge—arms limp, soaked to the bone. His hoodie clung to him like dead skin. Hair matted to his forehead. Eyes hollow.

The world below was just a smear of neon and headlights. Blurred. Distant.

His toes gripped the ledge. One foot already hanging.

No sound but the storm.
No one to stop him.

He let out a broken laugh. “I’ve never won anything.”

It cracked halfway out of his throat.

“No respect. No peace. Not even a damn exam.”

His fists trembled. The rain disguised the tears already pouring down his face.

“I’ve been a loser since I was born,” he whispered. “And I’m done pretending it’ll get better.”

He closed his eyes. Took one step closer.

One breath in.

One breath out.

Then—

“Would you still jump... if they were alive?”

The words came soft, almost swallowed by the rain. But they hit like lightning.

Kaiser’s eyes shot open. His head whipped toward the voice.

There—leaning against the stairwell doorway—stood a faint, translucent figure.

The rain passed through him like smoke.

Kaiser’s chest tightened.

Same build. Same posture. Same dead stare.

“…You.”

It was him.

Kaiser stared at his own face, blue-tinted and calm.

“You’re the damn voice,” he growled. “The one that never shuts up.”

The figure didn’t react. “I’m not here to stop you.”

“Then get the hell out of my way!”

Kaiser lunged.

His fist cut through the figure like air. No resistance. No impact. Just cold mist.

He staggered forward, panting.

“Feel better?” the voice asked.