Doyun noticed the change because it felt useful.
The city had not become more dangerous. Traffic moved at its usual pace. Pedestrians adjusted and avoided each other with practiced ease. Nothing in the surface rhythm suggested escalation.
And yet, his attention kept settling on the same places.
Narrow gaps. Edges of intersections. Moments where hesitation could still tip into error.
He caught himself scanning ahead, mapping potential points of failure before they fully formed. It felt efficient. Protective.
Necessary.
At a crosswalk, he spotted the hesitation immediately. A car rolling forward a fraction too early. A pedestrian stepping off the curb without looking up.
The tightening sharpened.
Doyun slowed, instinctively shifting his position to clear space. The car stopped. The pedestrian hesitated, then waved an apology.
The moment passed.
Relief followed, quick and validating.
He told himself this was improvement.
At work, the pattern continued.
Out of a list of flagged locations, his eyes went straight to the ones with clustered minor incidents. He skimmed past the rest, trusting the system to handle them.
Nothing in the data contradicted him.
But he noticed something else.
The places he skipped faded quickly from his awareness. By the time he reached the end of the list, he could not recall them clearly.
Only the risky ones lingered.
During lunch, he chose a seat with his back to the wall.
It wasn't conscious. Just comfortable. From there, he could see the room without turning, track movement with minimal effort.
The tightening flickered twice.
A chair scraped back too quickly. Someone cut across the aisle without looking. Both moments resolved harmlessly, but his attention remained fixed on them long after they passed.
He ate mechanically, tasting little.
In the afternoon, he took a different route home.
Not to avoid danger.
To follow it.
He realized this halfway through the walk, when he found himself approaching a busier intersection instead of his usual quieter street. The choice had felt natural until he questioned it.
The tightening greeted him early, familiar and insistent.
He stopped short.
The flow bent around him, negotiating space. People slowed, adjusted, moved on.
Nothing happened.
Doyun felt the now-familiar relief.
Then, unease.
He retraced his steps, deliberately choosing a calmer street.
The sensation dulled.
Too much.
The absence unsettled him.
At home, he tried to recall the safer route.
Details slipped away. The shop windows, the spacing of the sidewalks, the timing of the lights. They blurred together, unremarkable.
He remembered the busy intersection perfectly.
The angles. The timing. The points of tension.
Doyun sat at the table, fingers interlaced.
This was not heightened perception.
It was narrowing.
He opened his notebook and hesitated, then wrote.
I am not seeing more danger. I am seeing less safety.
The distinction landed heavily.
Bias did not distort the world. It reorganized attention, pulling certain signals forward while pushing others out of focus.
He closed the notebook.
If this continued, his decisions would feel increasingly justified, even as his range of choice shrank.
He would not rush into danger.
He would drift toward it.