The bell above the convenience store door chimed softly as a man stepped inside.The store looked exactly as it always did.
Bright white lights, Half-stocked shelves. A coffee machine humming quietly in the corner. The cashier sat behind the counter, scrolling through his phone while soft music played overhead. Nothing unusual was happening beside the police sirens outside.
A man picked up a basket and began walking through the aisles. He took picked up a bread packet, coffee powder and a bottle of water. The same things he brought every week. Some people found comfort in variety, Noctren Halvyr found comfort in routine.
Routine gave the illusion that tomorrow would arrive exactly as expected. Most people needed that illusion.
The cashier looked up as Noctren approached the counter. "Back again?", Noctren smiled politely and replied: ",It appears so"
Noctren slowly put all the items on the counter for billing. The cashier who could see the items laughed and said: "You really do buy the same things every time."
Noctren looked down at the loaf of bread.
"I suppose some habits are difficult to break."
The cashier nodded as if that made perfect sense.
Noctren paid, said thank you and left.
The evening air was cool. Cars moved steadily through the streets. People hurried home from work. A young couple stood outside a restaurant arguing about where to eat. A businessman crossed the road while checking his watch every few seconds.
Further down the street, a father carried a sleeping child in his arms, the little girl's head rested against his shoulder. Safe and trusting her father completely. Noctren just took a glance, yet the image lingered.
"Trust...such a fragile thing. Most people never realise how easily it could be broken. Or how much damage a single decision could cause."
Noctren continued walking. The city moved around him without noticing him. That was one thing he appreciated.
People rarely paid attention. A man could disappear in plain sight if he looked ordinary enough. And Noctren had spent years mastering the art of being ordinary. By the time he reached his apartment building, darkness had begun settling over the city. The hallway lights flickered faintly as he climbed the stairs.
Nothing had changed.
The same cracked paint, the same old carpet. the same quiet silence.
Inside, the apartment was modest but comfortable. A bookshelf occupied one wall. A small kitchen stood near the window.
Several potted plants rested on a narrow shelf. The room looked like it is owned by a ordinary yet discipline man. Not
Not like the home of a criminal.
Not like the home of a monster.
Just the home of a man.
Noctren placed the groceries on the counter and immediately noticed one of the plants leaning slightly to one side. A leaf had begun turning yellow.
He sighed softly.
Setting the groceries aside, he carefully rotated the pot toward the window. Then he trimmed the damaged leaf.
A small action. Meaningless to most people, yet strangely satisfying.
Satisfied, he returned to preparing dinner, he placed the kettle with water on the stove for heating. The familiar sounds filled the apartment.
For a while, there was nothing else.
As he waited for the water to boil, his attention drifted toward the window.
Across the street, a family sat together on a balcony. A father, mother and a daughter. The daughter was speaking so fast that the parents had to slow her. At one point, her little toy phone fell, and her father picked it up while her mother was laughing.
Noctren stood completely still, as if something inside him tightened. It was not jealousy, anger but something far older and painful.
Seeing the girl laugh too, he remembered a day from his childhood, a younger version of himself, and a girl who never stopped talking. The girl was his sister.
The memory surfaced without permission, as memories often did. He remembered her insisting on carrying an umbrella twice her size. He remembered her getting angry whenever he forgot something important. He remembered how she always walked half a step ahead, even when she was supposed to be following him.
Most of all, he remembered her laugh.
For years he had tried to forget it but for years he failed.
....
Noctren looked away from the window. The kettle had begun to whistle. He turned it off and with that the memory faded too, what remained was the feeling.
He always maintained a notebook to write about his daily life. The cover was worn and the pages filled with years of observations. Not names, no of criminals, but just choices he made in his life.
He slowly turned through the pages.
Responsibility.
Fear.
Regret.
Loyalty.
Survival.
The same words appeared again and again.
Different people.
Different situations.
The same outcomes.
His fingers stopped on one particular page. Several entries had been written beneath each other. He chose Family, later he regretted It. Chose this career, and later regretted It. Chose to live, but everyday was like a hell.
Noctren stared at the page. A strange pattern. No matter what people chose...regret always followed.
The human mind had a remarkable talent for mourning the path not taken.
After a moment of thought, he picked up the pen and wrote:
A choice reveals more than a lifetime of promises...
Outside, the city continued breathing beneath the night sky.
Inside, Noctren switched on a monitor sitting beside the desk. Several camera feeds appeared. Traffic cameras. Street corners. Public spaces. Fragments of the city.
Most people would have found them boring, but Noctren found them fascinating. Every screen showed hundreds of decisions being made.
Small choices.
Meaningless choices.
His attention drifted from screen to screen and suddenly stopped, it was the police station. The image was not Clear but still caught his eye. A figure standing outside one of the windows. Watching, listening to the conversations. But impressively, he made low voice that nobody could hear. The figure did not try to do anything bad, but instead, It walked away after some time.
After few thoughts, he remembered how a police officer was suspended and a new officer, who came to replace him. And how they had caught one of the survivor...whom he had set up. To live.
"The suspended officer?" Noctren is a brilliant hacker, he could see what was going on inside too. A unfazed officer.