Stood Up

Ethan immediately called the police, his hands still trembling as he clutched the phone, relaying the horrifying details of what he had just discovered.

Within the hour, security officers arrived at his apartment. Their footsteps echoed ominously in the hallway as they approached his door, their faces set in a serious expression reserved for the most unsettling cases. Ethan's mind raced as he led them into the living room, where the package sat ominously on the coffee table, its mere presence a source of anxiety.

With a mixture of dread and anticipation, Ethan watched as the lead officer carefully peeled back the package's flaps, expecting the worst. But when the officer's gloved hands finally reached inside, Ethan's heart nearly stopped as he braced himself for the confirmation of his nightmare.

Only to be met with empty space.

The box was empty.

Ethan's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the empty package, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing or, more accurately, not seeing. The sight of the officer pulling out nothing but air sent a wave of disbelief crashing over him. He had been so sure, so utterly convinced of what he had seen. How could it be gone?

"There was a hand!" Ethan's voice cracked as he spoke, the panic rising in his chest. "I swear, there was a severed hand in there, I'm not making this up!"

The officers exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to skepticism. The lead officer, trying to maintain a professional demeanor, gave Ethan a sympathetic look that did little to mask his doubt. "Sir, are you absolutely sure? Sometimes the mind plays tricks, especially under stress..."

Ethan's frustration boiled over. He could see the doubt in their eyes, the way they subtly exchanged looks as if to say, "Another false alarm." He wanted to grab the officer by the shoulders, to shake him and make him understand that he wasn't imagining things, that he wasn't crazy.

But all he could do was watch helplessly as the officers packed up their gear. The lead officer offered him a stern warning before leaving. "If you make another false report, you could be facing serious consequences."

[TL Note - WTF? How unprofessional]

As the officers exited the apartment, Ethan stood frozen in place, his mind reeling. He watched through the balcony window as the squad car pulled out of the driveway, its flashing lights disappearing into the distance. The realization of his isolation hit him like a ton of bricks.

Turning away from the window, Ethan's eyes landed on Emma, who was standing quietly at the doorway to the bedroom. Her face was still pale, her expression as unreadable as ever. There was something off about the way she stood there, something that sent a chill creeping up Ethan's spine.

He tried to push the feeling away, to rationalize it as his nerves getting the better of him. But as he took a step toward her, a sudden thought struck him, freezing him in his tracks.

The hand he had seen in the package... it looked just like Emma's.

His mind whirled with confusion and fear. He tried to convince himself that it was all just an illusion, a figment of his overwrought imagination. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the gnawing doubt that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

As the days went by, Ethan's behavior became increasingly erratic. His once vibrant personality dulled into a shadow of its former self. He felt as if he were living in a waking nightmare, trapped in a world that no longer made sense. The vibrant love he had once felt for Emma was now tainted by a creeping dread that he couldn't explain.

At night, sleep eluded him. He would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Emma's presence beside him. Every time she shifted in her sleep, his heart would skip a beat. His imagination conjured terrifying images—visions of her lying next to him, her eyes wide open, staring at him with an unnatural intensity, a twisted smile playing on her lips, blood trickling down from the corners like some macabre lipstick.

But whenever he worked up the courage to turn and look, she was always peacefully asleep, her breathing soft and steady. It should have been comforting, but it wasn't. The peace of her slumber felt wrong, like a calm that preceded a storm.

Ethan couldn't bear it. The nights stretched on endlessly, a torturous cycle of fear and exhaustion that left him feeling like a hollow shell of the man he once was.

It was during one of those sleepless nights that Ethan remembered Dr. Li. The memory of the doctor's strange behavior when Emma was discharged resurfaced with startling clarity. Ethan recalled how Dr. Li had seemed hesitant, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn't. At the time, Ethan had been too overwhelmed with relief to question it, but now, in the cold light of hindsight, the moment seemed full of unspoken significance.

Determined to find answers, Ethan decided to visit the hospital. Early the next morning, he told Emma that he had to meet a classmate, but instead, he headed straight to Dr. Li's office.

The hospital was as busy as ever; the bustle of patients and staff did little to soothe Ethan's frayed nerves. After a brief wait, he managed to see Dr. Li, who recognized him immediately. The doctor's expression tightened as soon as their eyes met. With a quick glance around, he motioned for Ethan to follow him into his office.

Once inside, Dr. Li closed the door behind them, his movements tense and deliberate. The air in the room was thick with unspoken tension as Ethan took a seat, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Doctor," Ethan began, his voice barely above a whisper, "is there something wrong with Emma? Something you didn't tell me?"

Dr. Li's eyes flicked to the door and then back to Ethan. There was a long, heavy silence before he finally nodded, his expression grave. Ethan's stomach churned with anxiety as he braced himself for the worst.

"She's fine," Dr. Li said slowly, each word carefully measured.

Ethan blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. "Fine?"

"Yes," Dr. Li repeated, though his voice lacked conviction. "She's fully recovered. If there's anything unusual, it might just be that she's still a bit weak. But physically, she's fine."

Ethan's mind raced. The doctor's words didn't match the tension in the room, the way Dr. Li had brought him in as if to share some terrible secret. Why would he go through all this trouble just to tell him that everything was normal?

It was then that Ethan noticed the way Dr. Li kept glancing at the door, his eyes darting to the small square window as if expecting something—or someone. A sudden dread washed over Ethan as he followed the doctor's gaze.

Through the tiny window, he saw a face.

A pale, expressionless face pressed against the glass, its features shadowed and eerie. The sight of it made Ethan's blood run cold. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching in his throat.

It was Emma.

She stood outside the door, her eyes locked on them through the window, her expression unreadable. The sight of her there, so suddenly, so silently, sent a wave of fear crashing over Ethan. He struggled to maintain his composure as he rose from his chair and opened the door.

"Why are you here?" Ethan asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"The doctor asked me to come for a follow-up today," she replied, blinking slowly as she turned her gaze to Dr. Li. "Isn't that right, doctor?"

"Uh... yes," Dr. Li stammered, his voice faltering as he nodded. He avoided her gaze, his movements stiff and unnatural.

Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine at the doctor's reaction. Something was very, very wrong.

Deciding it was best to leave for now, Ethan gently guided Emma out of the hospital, his mind racing with thoughts of what he had just witnessed. He resolved to return the next day, hoping to speak to Dr. Li alone and get the answers he so desperately needed.

But when Ethan arrived at the hospital the next morning, he was met with unsettling news: Dr. Li hadn't shown up for work.

Ethan's concern deepened. He inquired further, managing to track down the doctor's home address. But when he arrived at Dr. Li's residence, the doctor's family informed him that Dr. Li hadn't come home the previous night.

Dr. Li had disappeared.

It felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under Ethan. A cold, paralyzing fear gripped him, a fear that wrapped around him like a suffocating shroud. He felt as though he were trapped in an invisible net, struggling to break free but only entangling himself further.

The next day, another package arrived.

Ethan's hands trembled uncontrollably as he unwrapped the package, the sense of foreboding so intense it nearly suffocated him. Even though he had tried to mentally prepare himself, nothing could have steeled him for what he found inside.

This time, it wasn't a hand, but a leg.

The leg was pale and lifeless, its cold, smooth skin disturbingly familiar. Ethan's breath caught in his throat as he stared at it, his mind reeling in horror. The shape, the texture—it was a near-perfect match for Emma's leg.

A wave of nausea swept over him as his thoughts spiraled into darkness. He felt as though he were teetering on the edge of insanity. He couldn't bear to touch the limb, couldn't even bring himself to look at it any longer. In a blind panic, he fled the apartment, running through the streets as fast as his legs could carry him, desperate to reach the police station once more.

Coincidentally, an FBI agent was there to collect some essential documents and happened to learn of Ethan's situation. After a moment of contemplation, he brought Ethan to the FBI office. 

---

At this time that the existence of the Ninth Special Service Division had been made public. Any cases involving strange occurrences or suspected infections were forwarded directly to them for investigation.

Infection was a vague and poorly understood phenomenon. Some cases were genuinely caused by supernatural forces, while others turned out to be ordinary crimes, albeit with bizarre or unexplained elements. The most difficult cases to distinguish were those involving mental illness, where the logic behind the actions could be just as baffling as the behavior of the infected.

The Ninth Division had been inundated with reports of all kinds—large and small. While a few turned out to be genuine, low-level infection cases, most were either misunderstandings or simple crimes that had taken on an unusual appearance. Ethan's case, with its terrifying implications, was assigned to two of their nearest agents for further investigation.

Those agents were Charlie Cooper and his senior, Felix.

To say that Charlie was disturbed after reading the case file would be an understatement. The details alone were enough to send chills down his spine. Whether or not Ethan's story was true, the events described were unsettling enough to warrant serious concern.

It was clear that he needed to discuss the case with Felix first. Charlie figured that the dinner invitation was meant to allow them to exchange thoughts and formulate a plan for the investigation.

So, Charlie arrived at the designated restaurant ten minutes early. The tuxedoed waiter at the door asked for his name, then politely led him to a private room decorated in opulent splendor. The soft lighting, the luxurious furnishings, and the quiet ambiance all suggested that this was a place for serious business—or serious indulgence.

As he sat down, Charlie couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between his current surroundings and the grim details of the case they were about to discuss.

He waited... and waited...

Half an hour passed, and still, there was no sign of Felix.

Charlie began to feel a growing sense of unease. Was he being stood up?

…

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, a sleek blue supercar wove through the streets, the roar of its engine echoing off the buildings.

The blonde woman behind the wheel, dressed in a crisp maid uniform, glanced in the rearview mirror at Felix, who sat in the back seat, absorbed in the documents spread across his lap.

"Weren't you supposed to be treating your colleague to dinner tonight?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"Yeah," Felix replied without looking up, his tone casual as he flipped through the papers. "Uncle's always going on about how important it is to build good relationships with our colleagues in the Service Division. I figured inviting the new guy to dinner would be a good start."

"Then... why aren't you going?" the maid asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Felix raised an eyebrow as if the question puzzled him. "Why would I need to go? I already invited him."

The maid fell silent, her expression a mix of bewilderment and resignation.

[TL Note - I wanna B*tch slap this guy]

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