あやかし百鬼夜行

Lila did not go home.

She kept walking, letting the neon-lit streets pull her forward as if the city itself had decided her direction. Her footsteps echoed too loudly, out of rhythm with the distant hum of traffic and flickering signs. Every reflection in the glass storefronts felt wrong—delayed, distorted, watching her back.

Her phone stayed silent. That frightened her more than any message ever could.

She turned onto a wider street, crowded with light and movement. Cars passed, voices overlapped, music spilled from somewhere unseen. It should have felt safe. Instead, the sense of being observed sharpened, like a breath brushing the back of her neck.

A streetlight above flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Lila stopped.

Her phone vibrated in her hand.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Her chest tightened. She scanned faces, windows, rooftops—but nothing stood out. No one stared too long. No one moved strangely. That was the worst part.

She typed before she could talk herself out of it.

*Who are you?*

The reply came instantly.

“Someone who listens when Neon speaks.”

A chill slid down her spine. She crossed the street quickly, heading toward the corner café she had visited countless times before. Warm lights glowed through the windows. Familiar smells. Comfort. Normalcy.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Don’t go inside.”

Lila hesitated, fingers hovering on the door handle. Something deep in her chest screamed at her to run. But the curiosity—the need to understand—won. She pushed the door open.

The bell chimed softly as she stepped in. Heat wrapped around her, carrying the scent of coffee and sugar. A few customers sat scattered across the room, heads down, absorbed in their own worlds. The barista glanced up and smiled.

For a moment, Lila felt foolish. Perhaps she was imagining everything.

Then the lights went out.

Darkness swallowed the café. Someone gasped. A chair scraped. Nervous laughter followed, thin and forced. Seconds later, dim red emergency lights flickered on, painting the room in shadows.

Her phone vibrated.

“I warned you.”

The power surged back almost instantly. Bright lights. Normal sounds. Conversations resumed as if nothing had happened.

But Lila didn’t relax.

Her eyes were fixed on the security monitor behind the counter. The footage replayed the moment the lights went out. It showed her entering the café.

And behind her—

A shape.

Tall. Still. Wrong.

It didn’t move like a person. It didn’t rush or hesitate. It simply followed, its outline blurring at the edges, as if the camera itself refused to understand what it was seeing.

Lila stepped back, heart pounding. The whispers she had heard in Neon streets before—echoes she had thought were tricks of imagination—suddenly made sense.

The screen looped again. This time, the shape was closer.

She turned slowly. Nothing.

Her phone buzzed one last time.

“Now you understand.”

Lila left the café without looking back.

Outside, Neon glowed brighter than before, lights humming softly, streets breathing around her. The city felt alive in a way it never had.

And for the first time, Lila realized the truth she had been avoiding.

The watcher wasn’t trying to scare her.

It was trying to prepare her.

Because Neon had started whispering.

And it had no intention of stopping.