The way she looked at me.

Not with curiosity—but with recognition.

We walked deeper into the town, yet my mind stayed behind, replaying her words.

You’re not from here.

This place changes people who don’t belong.

I finally broke the silence.

“Who was she?”

The man didn’t answer immediately.

“Someone who sees more than she should,” he said at last.

That didn’t help.

I wanted to turn back, to find her again, but something in his tone warned me not to.

So I stayed quiet.

Somewhere else

The girl stood on a rooftop overlooking the town.

The basket she carried was gone.

So was the softness in her eyes.

The wind moved around her, yet her clothes didn’t shift. The air itself seemed to wait for her permission.

“So this is the one,” she murmured.

Her voice was no longer human.

Not loud.

Not cruel.

Just ancient.

She closed her eyes—and the world beneath her flickered.

Not physically.

Conceptually.

As if reality itself had been briefly inspected.

“He doesn’t know,” she said.

A faint smile formed.

“That makes it more interesting.”

The sky above her darkened for a fraction of a second.

Not with clouds.

With attention.

Back in the town

I felt a sudden chill.

Like someone had just thought about me.

I looked around, but nothing seemed different. People laughed. Merchants argued. Life went on.

Yet my heart wouldn’t calm down.

For the first time, I realized something terrifying:

I wasn’t just inside a world anymore.

I was being observed from outside it.

And I had no idea by whom.