The apartment smelled of old dampness and instant ramen.

  It wasn’t a special place.

  Not ancient.

  Not powerful.

  Just a poorly insulated third floor, crooked posters on the walls, a folding table in the center, and three people who didn’t look like villains or cultists—just tired.

  “Are you sure this works?” the girl asked, gripping the sleeve of her hoodie.

  She held her phone in her hand, a page open full of highlighted comments and blurry screenshots.

  “It works,” the guy with glasses replied without looking up. “What we don’t know is how.”

  The third one, leaning against the window, snorted.

  “I’m fine as long as it scares them a little.”

  On the table was a circle drawn with cheap chalk, coarse salt, and a couple of ordinary candles.

  Nothing ceremonial.

  Nothing solemn.

  It looked more like a late-night experiment than a ritual.

  “We’re not summoning anything,” the guy with glasses repeated, as if he needed to convince himself. “It’s just… pushing a little. Making noise. Making it noticeable.”

  “Noticeable what?” the girl asked.

  He hesitated for a second.

  “That not all deals turn out well. That they don’t always deliver. That this… isn’t as clean as they make it sound.”

  Silence.

  The one by the window spoke without turning around.

  “My cousin made a deal. To pass her exams.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  It went wrong.

  And when she asked for help… no one answered.”

  The girl pressed her lips together.

  “My brother lost his job after ‘fixing’ a problem with them.

  They said it was normal.

  That the price always comes later.”

  The guy with glasses swallowed.

  “I just want… for once… something to go wrong for them.”

  He lit the first candle.

  Nothing happened.

  He lit the second.

  The air grew slightly heavier, though none of them noticed right away.

  The third candle trembled before catching flame.

  “Was that… part of the plan?” the girl asked.

  “No,” he said.

  The circle vibrated.

  It didn’t glow.

  It didn’t explode.

  It just… bent.

  As if the chalk had been drawn over something that was breathing.

  “Hey,” the one at the window said, straightening. “Do you feel that?”

  The pressure hit all at once.

  Not pain.

  Not heat.

  An emotional weight—like an argument that never ends, like a scream stuck in the throat of someone they didn’t know.

  The girl stepped back.

  “This isn’t just a scare anymore.”

  The guy with glasses tried to erase one of the lines in the circle.

  He couldn’t.

  The chalk snapped on its own.

  “Stop,” he said. “Stop, stop, stop—”

  The air pulled.

  Not outward.

  Inward.

  As if something on the other side had felt the touch… and responded on reflex.

  For a microscopic instant—

  something went dark.

  Not a light.

  Not a sound.

  A connection.

  Several kilometers away, a barrier in the Sitri territory flickered.

  It didn’t collapse.

  It didn’t break.

  It simply… wasn’t there.

  For 0.3 seconds.

  Enough to cut the flow.

  Enough to loosen an anchor.

  Enough for something that was never meant to move to shift—just slightly.

  Back in the apartment, the pressure vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

  The candles went out.

  The circle remained warped, incomplete, like a poorly erased drawing.

  The girl was breathing hard.

  “That… that wasn’t a scare.”

  The guy with glasses stared at the scorched paper.

  “I didn’t… I didn’t summon anything.

  We just… pushed. A little.”

  The third one looked out the window.

  “Did you feel that?” he murmured. “Like something… turned off for a second.”

  No one answered.

  Because all of them had felt it.

  “Let’s not talk about this,” she whispered. “Let’s forget it.”

  “Yeah,” the guy with glasses nodded too quickly. “It was stupid. Nothing happened.”

  They split up without looking at each other.

  They turned off the light.

  The apartment went back to being just an apartment.

  But somewhere, in an invisible point of the territory,

  something that had only been brushed against

  finally realized it could be reached.

  And far away,

  a boy with an overly sensitive Resonance

  came to a sudden stop.

  Thm.

  A small error.

  A clumsy intention.

  A real crack.

  And the beginning of something

  that would no longer be able to close completely.