>>1070017
You forced me try and do this, this is all your fault not mine.
Hisui, the Maid of the Midnight Hours
They say some houses come with creaks, drafts… and watchers.
When I moved into my new apartment, I thought the noises at night were just old pipes and settling wood. Until I met Hisui.
It started one morning around 3:00 a.m.
I woke up to the faint scent of lavender and polish — like someone had been cleaning. My nightstand gleamed, the mirror no longer smudged. My curtains were drawn neatly. And at the edge of my bed stood a girl in a black-and-white maid uniform, her head bowed, her pale hands folded neatly in front of her.
I blinked, thinking I was dreaming. When I turned the lamp on, she was gone.
But the scent remained.
Every night after that, I felt her presence. Sometimes I’d wake to see the shadow of her headdress reflected in the TV screen. Sometimes I’d feel cool fingers brushing crumbs off my pillow. Once, I swear I heard her whisper, “Sleep, master… it’s late.”
I tried staying awake. Setting cameras. But Hisui always seemed to know. The footage would cut out around 2:59 a.m., and resume at 4:00 — just in time for her to whisper softly in my ear:
“Morning has come.”
Then one night, I left a note on my nightstand.
> “Why do you watch me?”
When I woke, the note was gone. In its place was a new one, written in elegant handwriting I didn’t recognize:
> “Because you stopped waking up on your own.”
Now, every morning, no matter how heavy my eyes or tired my body, Hisui is there — bowing slightly, her cold voice whispering,
“Good morning, master. Time to wake up.”
And every night… she watches to make sure I don’t forget again.