Midnight City where glass towers scratch the sky and bridges glow like veins of light stretched over black water. It's the kind of city that never sleeps, not because it's full of dreams, but because it's full of people chasing them.
Endless roads carve the landscape like arteries, flooded with honking cars, darting buses, and impatient footsteps. Neon signs blink above greasy diners. Parks stay lit until dawn. There's always someone walking, talking, laughing, crying.
From a distance, it looks like paradise.
But look closer.
There's a quiet madness stitched into the fabric of the night. Behind every glowing window, behind every smiling face, there's something darker. Crimes happen daily, some out of desperation, others for money, but the worst of them?
Some are done for pleasure.
Because monsters walk this city. Not the ones in masks or movies, but the ones you pass in a crowd. The ones who smile politely. The ones who sit across from you on the train. The ones who might live inside you.
They don't kill because they have to. They kill because they want to. Because it feels good. And they don't feel guilt.
Not even a little.
Sunday Night
The shop smelled like roasted beans and burnt-out dreams. I was finishing my shift at Ezo's Coffee Shop, a cozy hole-in-the-wall joint just across from the city library. Sundays were always insane back-to-back customers hopped up on caffeine and existential dread. I needed a drink and ten hours of sleep.
Customer: "Hey, can I get some coffee?"
Rahul: "Sure, but this one's on the edge. We're closing."
Customer: "Cool, here's the cash."
The bell above the door jingled one last time. I started cleaning the counter, the machines, the floor. The usual rhythm. There was something peaceful about ending the shift. The stillness after chaos.
Finally, I was done. Ready to shut the place and head home.
Ding.
Rahul: "Welcome to Ezo's"
Sam: "Yo! My man Rahul!"
Sam. Of course. The human equivalent of a raccoon in a party hat. My oldest friend, my most consistent headache.
He waltzed in like he owned the place, grinning like an idiot.
I knew he wanted something. He always did. Money, mostly. But he was all I had in this city. The only real connection I hadn't burned.
Rahul: "Hey bro. What's up?"
Sam: "Dude, we're going to a party tonight. Unlimited beer, loud music, everything. It's gonna be wild."
Rahul: "Wow," I said flatly. "So exciting."
Sam: "Don't be like that! Come on, man. You need this."
Maybe I did. But I was exhausted. My legs ached, my head throbbed, and my mood was circling the drain. I wanted to go home, crack a beer, and sink into my couch until Monday arrived like a slap in the face.
Rahul: "Fine. But we have to wait. Shara's covering the next shift."
Sam: "Who?"
Rahul: "Shara. The girl who works here. Punctual, responsible, doesn't mooch coffee."
Sam: "Right, right. Speaking of coffee…?"
Rahul: "Hell. No."
We waited. Half an hour passed, and for the first time in forever, Shara was late. I paced a little. Checked my watch. My mind itched with something I couldn't name. Anxiety?
Finally, she arrived.
Shara: "You're a lifesaver, Rahul. Thank you."
Rahul: "Anytime."
She smiled like she meant it. She always did. It was one of the things I liked about her; she was real. Kind. Not like most people in this concrete jungle.
I nodded, grabbed my jacket, and followed Sam out the door.
The Party
The night was colder than usual. Fog licked the windows of the car as we sped down the highway, bass-heavy music shaking the doors. Sam was behind the wheel, singing terribly to some techno beat, while I stared out the window.
I don't know what I was expecting, but when we pulled into a shadowed alley at the edge of town and saw lights flickering and bodies moving inside, I knew we were there.
Inside, it was chaos.
People danced like their lives depended on it. Some were already passed out in corners. Others leaned on each other, whispering secrets or shouting nonsense. The air reeked of sweat, smoke, and cheap vodka. My head spun before I even touched a drink.
But I drank anyway.
We partied hard. Harder than I should have. Somewhere between shot number four and song number ten, the world stopped making sense.
I remember a girl with red hair laughing in my face. I remember someone handing me a drink I didn't ask for. I remember Sam yelling something like "You're alive, man!" as we stumbled back to his car.
He dropped me off at my apartment around 3 a.m.
I stumbled to the window, trying to breathe. The fog outside had thickened. The city looked distant, unreal. And that's when I saw him.
A man.
Standing still, across the street.
Wearing black from head to toe.
Just watching me.
I blinked. He didn't move. My skin crawled.
But I was too drunk to care. I peeled off my clothes and collapsed into bed, letting darkness take me.
Morning
I woke up drenched in sweat. My mouth was dry. My head is spinning. A dream clung to my memory like smoke. I was holding a knife. Playing a video game…CS:GO? But something felt off. Too real. Blood on my hands. A rush of adrenaline. Laughter. Not mine.
I shook my head.
"No more drinking," I muttered. "Ever."
Then my phone rang.
Sam: "Bro… your coffee shop got robbed."
Rahul: "What?!"
Sam: "Check the news. Right now."
I turned on the TV.
The headline punched me in the gut:
"BREAKING: Employee killed in brutal coffee shop robbery."
My hands went cold.
"Victim identified as Shara Nair. Incident occurred around 4 a.m. CCTV was disabled. Cause of death: Blunt trauma to the skull. No suspects. No leads."
I dropped the remote. My mind screamed. My vision blurred.
I'd just seen her. Just spoke to her. She thanked me.
Now she is gone.
Weeks Later
They shortened our hours. Cut my pay. I didn't care.
The real loss was Shara.
I went to her funeral. Watched her family sob over her coffin. Her mother clutched her photo like it was all she had left.
I couldn't breathe.
The shop felt haunted now. Every time I wiped the counter, I remembered her smile. Her laugh. Her gentle voice.
Sam: "Bro, I get it. It's tragic. But you can't drown in it forever."
Rahul: "Shut up, Sam. Are you paying for that coffee or not?"
Sam: "Alright, alright. Damn."
That Night
I was closing up.
Same routine. Mop. Lock up. Lights out.
And then I saw him again.
The man in black.
Standing across the street. Not moving. Not blinking.
Just… watching.
I looked away. Looked back.
Gone.
My hands trembled. My breath quickened. Was I imagining things? Hallucinating?
Or was he real?
Was he... the killer?
Was he connected to Shara's death?
Or was something even darker happening?
Something inside me… shifting?
I didn't know.
All I knew was this city hides more than it shows. And something inside me was waking up.
Something I might not be able to control.
I locked the door, turned off the lights, and walked home.
But that night, I didn't sleep.
And I wasn't sure I'd ever sleep again.