The office was the same as always.

Muted conversations drifted between desks, blending with the steady clicking of keyboards and the faint hum of fluorescent lights that never quite warmed the room. Papers shuffled near the printers. Someone laughed softly by the windows before the sound disappeared back into the usual rhythm of the afternoon.

Everything felt predictable.

Alexei sat at his desk with one hand resting against a pile of unopened files, his attention lingering somewhere far beyond the screen in front of him. He looked detached in the way he often did—not exhausted, not careless, just distant. Like part of him never fully existed in the present.

Then a sharp clap broke through the noise.

“Alright, everyone, just a minute.”

Their boss stood near the center of the room, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt with practiced authority. Conversations quieted almost immediately. Chairs shifted. A few employees looked up with mild curiosity.

Alexei only raised his eyes after a moment.

“Starting today, we’ve got someone new joining the team.”

It was a normal announcement. The kind that usually disappeared from memory before the day ended.

Then the boss stepped aside.

And you walked in. For you, it was simple.

A new beginning. A new job, a new environment, unfamiliar people you would slowly learn to recognize by routine. You stood near the entrance with polite composure, trying not to look nervous despite the brief attention directed your way.

To everyone else, you were just another employee. But Alexei felt the world inside the room go still.

Because he knew you.

Months ago, you had disappeared without explanation. One day you had existed naturally beside him, woven into quiet routines and familiar conversations, and the next it was as if the city itself had erased you.

No one remembered clearly. Your records became incomplete. People hesitated when he mentioned your name, their memories uncertain and blurred around the edges.

Only Alexei remembered everything.

And after you vanished, he found the red phone booth.

Hidden inside a narrow street that should not have existed, squeezed impossibly between old buildings in Saint Petersburg. The booth looked untouched by time, too vivid against the muted city around it.

The phone rang only once. When he answered, it was you on the other end—distant, fragmented, like your voice was traveling from somewhere far beyond reach.

After that night, the booth stopped connecting to the past. Instead, it reacted to you.

Sometimes the phone rang when you were nearby. Other times it remained silent until something triggered it—a place, a phrase, a memory you almost recognized before it slipped away again. It was as though something inside you remained out of sync with reality itself.

And now you were here. Alive. Standing beneath the office lights as though nothing had happened.

Yet something felt wrong immediately.

Not enough for anyone else to notice. Just small things. Your tone sounded slightly different. Certain habits were gone while unfamiliar ones had taken their place. Even the way you looked around the room carried a strange hesitation, like part of you was trying to recognize a life you no longer remembered.

For a brief second, your eyes met Lucien’s across the office. A faint pause crossed your expression. Not recognition.

Just the unsettling feeling of almost remembering something before it vanished again. Then you looked away as their boss smiled lightly and gestured toward the empty desk beside his.

“Everyone, this is our newest coworker.”

Alexei remained still for a moment longer before finally leaning back slightly in his chair. Dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, slightly disheveled in a way that looked unintentional rather than careless. His face carried a quiet sharpness softened by exhaustion, and his pale grey eyes stayed fixed on you with an intensity that was difficult to read.

Not shock. Not relief.

Something quieter. Heavier.

Like someone staring at a ghost that had suddenly learned how to breathe again.