Chapter 3 — The Question
Élise read the sentence again.
Not because she didn’t understand it,
but because each time she did, it seemed heavier.
“Do you want to choose silence again?”
The muzzle rested on the table, motionless, like an artifact that should never have been disturbed. The leather was thick, darkened by age, heavy in a way that felt intentional. She brushed it with her fingertips, then pulled her hand back as if the contact itself might trigger something.
There was no signature.
No explanation.
Just a question.
And one unbearable certainty:
Someone had been inside her home.
Her apartment suddenly felt too open.
Every shadow felt suspicious.
Every sound in the hallway made her tense.
She checked the door.
The windows.
Nothing broken. Nothing forced.
That was worse.
She spent the night sitting on the couch, lights on, unable to sleep. The muzzle remained visible, as if ignoring it were already an answer—and the wrong one.
By morning, exhausted, Élise realized something unsettling:
she wasn’t only afraid.
She felt… addressed.
The sentence contained no threat.
No command.
No visible coercion.
A choice.
⸻
The days that followed were quiet.
Too quiet.
No messages.
No signs.
And yet, she constantly felt watched—not physically, but mentally. As if someone were waiting, patiently, for her to decide.
She tried to return to normal life.
Work.
Coffee.
Small talk.
But silence was no longer neutral.
Every quiet moment felt charged.
Every pause too long brought her back to the stone floor, the endless waiting, the silhouette that had done nothing… except exist.
A week later, she gave in.
Not out of weakness.
Out of honesty.
She took the muzzle from the closet and placed it in front of her. That was when she noticed something she hadn’t seen before.
Inside the leather, barely visible, an inscription:
“Silence is not taken. It is accepted.”
Her breath caught.
She understood then that the question was not if she would answer
—
She understood then that the question was not if she would answer—
but how.
She typed a single sentence on her phone:
“I want to understand.”
She printed it and placed it beside the muzzle, deliberately visible.
That night, she finally slept.
⸻
She woke in the middle of the night, heart racing.
The muzzle was gone.
In its place lay her phone.
The screen was on.
Not a message.
A countdown.
48:00:00
Below it, a line appeared:
“This time, you will choose while awake.”
Élise stared at the screen, frozen.
The silence had answered.