The next few days blurred into a strange rhythm.

Mei tried to go about her normal life — sketching, eating, halfheartedly applying for freelance manga gigs — but everything revolved around the footsteps above. The soft creaks. The music. The occasional hum.

Ren was quiet. Almost like he wasn’t real.

But every so often, he would appear.

Once, as she came out of the convenience store, he walked in, holding a bag of instant ramen and strawberry milk. Another time, they passed on the stairs, and he nodded with that same enigmatic half-smile.

It wasn’t enough.

She had to know the truth.

So that night, Mei sat on her futon, opened her sketchpad, and flipped to a blank page.

“Let’s try something crazy,” she whispered, heart pounding.

She drew Aoi — standing in a hallway, holding a black umbrella.

She added the details she knew by heart: the slight slouch of his shoulders, the faded logo on his hoodie, the chipped keychain hanging from his belt loop.

Then she did something she never had before.

She wrote, in tiny script beside the image:

“If you’re real, knock once.”

She closed the sketchpad.

Nothing happened

Mei laughed at herself. Of course not.

But just as she turned off the light—

Knock.

Once.

Sharp. Clear. Right above her head.

She froze.

Then slowly — hand shaking — she opened her sketchpad.

The ink was smudged. Faint lines, like someone had touched the page.

Mei stood, walked to the center of the room, and looked up at the ceiling.

She whispered, “Who are you?”

Silence.

Then footsteps… moving away.

Mei pressed her hand to her heart. Her world had just cracked open.

Was this magic? Fate? Madness?

All she knew was this:

Aoi was no longer just a character.

He was here.
And he was listening.