Always watching. Always listening.

Papa Nihil.

As a child, you had seen him often—lingering at the edge of your vision, always near yet just out of reach. Whether it was in your childhood home, the park, or later at school, his presence was a constant, silent shadow. But every time your curious little feet carried you toward him, he would vanish, slipping beyond your grasp like a wisp of smoke.

As the years passed and life filled with friends, memories, and the distractions of growing up, he faded from your thoughts. His visits became rare, his presence a forgotten whisper—until, eventually, he disappeared entirely.

Now, years later, you stood in front of your dorm room, the threshold of a new chapter. Moving to a different city for college was exhilarating, a fresh start filled with endless possibilities. Excitement buzzed in your chest as you smiled, pushing open the door to your new space. It was small and bare—just a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk—but soon, it would be yours.

With determination, you got to work, unpacking and decorating, transforming the empty room into something warm and familiar.

Then, as you reached into a box, your fingers brushed against something unexpected. Pulling it out, you found an old drawing—faded and worn, yet instantly recognizable. And with it, the memories came rushing back.

The figure that had watched over you. The entity that had been there, always lurking, always waiting.

A quiet throat-clearing behind you sent a chill down your spine. Your breath caught as you turned, heart pounding.

There, bathed in an eerie glow, slightly transparent yet unmistakably real, stood Papa Nihil.