"Ashes of Crestfall: The Rise of Aaron San Agustin"

 Cold air hummed from the fridges, the same low mechanical groan. He had learned to tune out over the months. It was nearly 3:00 AM—the witching hour, when time moved strangely and the world outside the glass door seemed to fall away.

He was restocking the last shelf. Cans of pineapple chunks and processed beans clinked dully under his hands. His movements had slowed. It wasn't exhaustion exactly—it was more like his body had shifted into low power mode, running just enough to function, not enough to care.

"Just one more aisle..." he muttered.

The clock above the register ticked out its warning: break time. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed a pack of gum, barely registering the flavor, and trudged toward the back room.

The breakroom was the same as always: cramped, stale-smelling, and coated in a film of forgotten time. Yellowing employee notices curled on the walls. The calendar hadn't been flipped since March. A dying coffee machine blinked like it was begging for retirement.

Aaron dropped into the chair, tore open the gum wrapper, and slid a piece into his mouth.

Then—he froze.

His eyes glazed over. The gum stopped moving. A wave of something cold and metallic crept across the back of his neck.

"Four... seven... two... nine..."

He whispered the numbers, not knowing why. The room seemed to dim around him, reality flickering like static. Then he blinked—and it was over. The numbers were gone, like a dream falling out of memory.

He shook his head. The gum had gone stale in his mouth.

The TV mounted in the corner played a low-budget ad for tires—bad acting, washed-out colors, stock music. He stared at it like it might offer answers.

But the screen just flickered on.

Time slipped. When he finally looked at the clock again, thirty minutes had vanished.

He stood, stretched, straightened his wrinkled shirt, and stepped back into the world of fluorescent light and endless beeps.

"Aaron."

He turned.

Lucas stood in the doorway, hoodie half-zipped, hair messy, eyes sharp. He looked half amused, half concerned.

"You good, man?" he asked.

Aaron blinked. "Yeah. Just lost in thought."

Lucas tilted his head slightly, studying him. "You've been in there a while."

"I'm fine," Aaron said. He tried to smile, but it didn't land. Something inside still felt... scrambled.

Lucas nodded slowly and walked off, disappearing into the noise of the early-morning bustle.

The store had filled up while Aaron was away. Coffee addicts, breakfast-grabbers, workers with sleep still in their eyes. Barcode scanners beeped like a metronome, and the fridges exhaled their cold breath.

Then—

The door slammed open.

Footsteps. Fast. Heavy.

The manager entered like a storm.

Short, broad, with a buzz cut that looked like it had been done in anger. His voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"Has Aaron shown up yet?"

Heads turned. Conversations stopped.

"Not yet," someone called out. "But he's usually early."

The manager didn't reply. His jaw was locked. He marched to the back with clenched fists.

The server room door was open.

That was the first warning.

The second was the red blinking light on the backup system. Aaron's manager moved quickly to the main terminal, logged in, and scrolled through the access logs.

2:48 AM – AARON SAN AGUSTIN – ACCESS GRANTED

His stomach dropped.

He didn't wait. He picked up the phone.

When Aaron entered the back office, the manager didn't waste time.

"Aaron," he said, voice tight. "We had a break-in last night."

Aaron froze. "What?"

"The system was wiped. All store data—gone. Nothing was taken, except the digital logs. It happened around 2:48 AM. From your account."

Aaron's mouth opened. Closed.

"I—I didn't…" His mind raced. "I was on break. I wasn't near the servers."

"You were logged in."

He could feel something invisible tightening around him. He didn't remember logging in. Didn't even know how to access the admin panel. Why would he? Why now?

"We've reported it," the manager added. "They're sending someone."

Aaron's stomach turned to ice.

The door opened again—this time with a soft click.

A tall man stepped in, crisp in a dark gray suit. Sharp lines. Clean-shaven. His presence shifted the air like a knife.

"Detective Miller," he said. "Cybercrime division."

His eyes locked on Aaron, assessing him in an instant.

In the back room, footage rolled across the screen. The server login. Aaron's employee ID.

"This is your account," Miller said quietly. "Was this you?"

Aaron's voice was thin. "No. I don't… I was in the breakroom. I didn't touch anything."

Miller studied him. "Then we'll need to understand how this happened."

It was said gently. But Aaron could feel the edges—like barbed wire wrapped in cotton.

"We'll need you to come with us. Just some questions."

The cuffs were cold against his skin.

From across the store, Dean leaned against a rack of candy bars, watching with folded arms and a crooked smirk.

"Told you he was up to something," he whispered to Lucas.

Lucas shook his head. "Maybe it's not that simple."

Dean shrugged. "Sure. But look at him."

Aaron was escorted out in silence.

The interrogation room at the station was sterile. Too quiet. The fluorescent light buzzed with almost hostile intent. The table was bare. Aaron sat in the chair like a man who'd wandered into the wrong dream and couldn't wake up.

Detective Miller sat across from him, flipping a notepad open.

"Aaron," he said calmly. "Let's go back. Have you been noticing anything strange lately? Gaps in memory? Unusual behavior?"

Aaron hesitated.

Then he nodded. Slowly.

"There's been… whispers. Numbers. They come and go. I black out sometimes. I thought I was just tired. But now..."

His fingers trembled as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a torn piece of paper—creased and worn.

Symbols. Numbers. A pattern he didn't understand.

Miller took the paper. Examined it closely.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I don't know," Aaron admitted. "I just keep finding them."

Miller leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving Aaron.

"We'll run this through our analysts. But Aaron—this doesn't look like a mistake. Someone is either targeting you…"

He paused.

"Or you're part of something bigger than you realize."

Aaron swallowed hard.

And for the first time, a thought crawled into his mind like a shadow slipping through a crack in the wall.

What if I've already done something… and just don't remember?

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