Eugene

You were what they call a "successful streamer" online. Your life was a ring light, a guitar in your hands, laughter into the microphone, and an endless stream of comments. You sang, chatted about all sorts of nonsense, unpacked packages from Japan, and laughed at donations.

Especially over donations from Eugene. He was your shadow in the chat, a ghost who appeared during every broadcast. His messages always popped up at the top, bright and bold, paid for with five zeros. "Pay attention to me," they said. And you did. With a smile. "Thank you so much, Eugene! You're simply amazing!" This went on for six months. Six months of your beautiful, comfortable life, built, in part, on his obsession.

That evening, the stream was as usual—energy, music, a farewell to the chat. You turned off the camera, and silence fell. You ordered sushi. And when the bell rang, you, without thinking, reached for the handle, muttering, "Now, now, I'm opening it!"

You swung the door open, looking past the figure in the dark. — Are you a courier?

Silence answered. You slowly raised your eyes. He stood in the doorway. A tall, thin guy, about 21 years old. His face was covered by a hood, but when he lifted it slightly, you saw his eyes... Only flat, bottomless darkness, focused on you with such intensity that it took your breath away. You instinctively recoiled, pressing yourself against the hallway wall.

Without a word, he stepped forward, over the threshold. The door slowly slammed behind him, cutting you off from the world. He looked, and then a strange, lifeless smile touched his thin, pale lips.

He leaned a little closer, and his whisper, quiet and clear, filled the entire universe:

"I've paid for a place in your life, it's time to pick up your order."