The older man stepped inside without waiting for permission.
The watch dealer followed him, shutting the door behind them with a sharp click that echoed through Vale's room. Outside, shadows lingered near the broken window—neighbors pretending not to watch while watching everything.
Vale stood still, his back against the wall.
"I'll be brief," the older man said calmly. His voice carried the weight of someone used to being obeyed. "That watch you sold yesterday—it's registered under my name."
Vale swallowed. "I didn't know it was registered."
The dealer scoffed. "Limited editions are always registered. Don't play innocent."
The pressure in Vale's chest stirred, slow and heavy.
The older man raised a hand, silencing the dealer. He placed a folder on the table and opened it carefully.
"Serial number. Purchase receipt. Transfer history. Ownership certificate."
Vale leaned forward despite himself.
Every page was perfect.
Every signature legitimate.
Every line ended the same way.
Owner: Vale
The room went quiet.
The pressure in Vale's chest surged violently, forcing him to grip the edge of the table to stay upright. His vision blurred at the edges.
"This is a joke," the dealer said. His voice wavered. "You altered this."
Vale shook his head. "I didn't touch anything."
The older man frowned. "Check again."
The dealer pulled out his phone, fingers moving faster than necessary. He refreshed the database once. Twice.
His face drained of color.
"It's… still his name."
The pressure eased slightly, as if something inside Vale had settled back into place.
Vale exhaled shakily. "I swear. I don't know how this happened."
The dealer's composure shattered.
"You think I'm stupid?" he shouted, stepping forward. "Who's your insider? Who helped you?"
"I don't have one!" Vale said, panic creeping into his voice.
The dealer raised his hand.
The older man caught his wrist midair. "Enough."
The dealer jerked free, breathing hard.
Outside, voices rose.
"That's him."
"The thief."
"Did you hear what he did?"
Vale's heart pounded.
The pressure returned, heavier than before.
The older man closed the folder slowly. "Whether you cheated or not is irrelevant."
He tapped the document.
"This is official. This says the watch belongs to you."
The dealer stared at him. "You're just going to accept this?"
The older man's jaw tightened. "Legally? I have no choice."
They turned to leave.
At the door, the older man paused and looked back at Vale. "Be careful," he said quietly. "Paper protects you from the law. Nothing protects you from people."
They left.
The room felt smaller after that.
Vale sank into a chair, breathing shallowly. His chest ached—not sharply, but persistently, like a weight that refused to lift.
He pulled the watch from the drawer.
The pressure surged instantly, overwhelming and suffocating.
Vale slammed it shut again.
"So it reacts," he whispered. "To things."
Ownership.
The word echoed in his mind, though he didn't fully understand why.
That evening, stones shattered his window.
Glass exploded inward.
"Thief!"
Another stone hit the wall.
"Get out!"
Vale pressed himself against the far corner as shouting filled the street.
"You rigged the system!"
"Scammer!"
"You think you're clever?"
Someone kicked the door.
The pressure in his chest roared, louder than ever.
A man's voice rose above the chaos.
"We don't want trouble," the voice said. "But you can't stay here."
The door rattled again.
Vale closed his eyes.
This town had already decided.
Night fell heavy and cold.
Vale sat on his bed, bag packed. Money. Clothes. Nothing else.
The watch stayed behind.
The pressure faded slightly once it was out of reach.
A knock sounded.
Vale flinched, then stood slowly.
When he opened the door, a man stood there alone.
Calm. Composed. Eyes sharp with calculation.
"Name's Alfred," the man said. "Mind if I come in?"
Vale hesitated, then stepped aside.
Alfred glanced at the broken window, the bag, the tension in Vale's posture.
"They're forcing you out," Alfred said.
Vale didn't deny it.
"You don't understand what's happening," Alfred continued. "But you've already felt it."
The pressure in Vale's chest reacted faintly, like recognition.
"I'm not here to explain," Alfred said. "I'm here to offer you a way out."
Vale's voice came out hoarse. "Why me?"
Alfred smiled faintly. "Because whatever you did, it doesn't belong here."
He placed a folded map on the table.
"No houses. No paperwork. No neighbors who think they own the ground you walk on."
Vale stared at the map.
"And if I say no?" he asked.
Alfred turned toward the door. "Then tomorrow gets worse."
He paused. "Much worse."
The pressure surged—sharp, insistent.
Vale grabbed his bag.
"Wait."
Alfred turned back.
"I'm coming," Vale said.
Alfred nodded. "Good."
They stepped into the night together, leaving behind a town that had already erased Vale from its future.