Knocker

The world has changed a long time ago. There are almost no people left. No cities, no cars, no noise—just the occasional village, with kilometers of empty space between them. I live alone, in a small house in a clearing. A river flows nearby, its water clean, and there are plenty of fish. The land is fertile, the sun rises directly over the hill. The place is quiet, peaceful.

When I moved here, I thought I had found peace. My refuge.
But it turned out not to be the case.

I can't die.
I didn't realize it right away. The first time I actually died—I fell off a cliff, fell into the river, and crashed. I felt pain, a wheezing sound, darkness... and then I opened my eyes. I was lying on my bed at home, as if nothing had happened. At first, I thought I'd dreamed it. But then it happened again. And again.

Death no longer meant anything.
I was no longer afraid. I jumped into lava, descended into caves, fought creatures I had previously avoided. Every time I was killed, I came back. At first I was afraid, then I got used to it, then I even began to rejoice—after all, nothing could harm me now.

Until one night I saw him.

At first it was just a silhouette. A black figure at the edge of the torchlight. I was standing by the window and caught a glimpse of it, thinking I was imagining it.
But the next night he appeared again. This time, closer.
And then - even closer.

I tried to ignore it.
But one day I woke up cold. The air seemed heavy. I opened my eyes—and he was standing next to the bed. I didn't have time to say anything. Something squeezed my throat, the world went dark, I felt blood filling my mouth...

And then I woke up on the bed again.
Alive.
But my throat hurt, as if I was really being choked.

Since then, he hasn't left. Sometimes he stands by the door. Sometimes he appears in the reflection. Sometimes he just sits in the corner of the room and watches. He doesn't speak. He doesn't breathe. He just waits.
Sometimes it kills. Slowly. With pleasure. And in the morning I find a sign by the door, written in something red.

《Aren't you tired yet?》