The next morning, the uneasiness in the air hadn't disappeared.The world looked the same, but something about it had fundamentally changed. It was enough for someone like me to feel as well.

I tried to run the shop like normal, but the feeling wouldn't leave me alone. Something was off, and I couldn't ignore it anymore.

I needed to check on the claw machine.

So I closed early and headed toward the train station. That was where the first and most famous claw machine was. And if I wanted my answers, that was one place I needed to look toward.

The entrance was blocked.

Dozens of people stood shoulder to shoulder across the stairs, forming a living barrier. They wore similar black cloaks that made it impossible to be able to tell who they were. And there were a lot of them as well.

Anyone who tried to approach was turned away.

They weren't violent yet, but their expressions told me that they were not afraid to get physical to get what they wanted. Yesterday I had only heard the term "Claw Cult." Today I was staring directly at it.

Before I could get any closer, someone shouted my name.

"Shopkeeper!"

The station master jogged toward me, breathless and disheveled. Dark circles under his eyes, shirt half-tucked, hair sticking up as if he had been fighting fires all night and never stopped.

He gripped my arm, not aggressively, but with a desperate urgency.

"You shouldn't be here…Things have gotten out of hand."

He said.

My eyes went back to the crowd.

"Why are they blocking the entrance? Why won't they let anyone in?"

"They've claimed the station. They say this place is holy now. They've taken control of the machine and turned it into a shrine."

He answered with a tired, humorless laugh. The poor man was dealing with too much because of the claw machine and the people who made it their religion.

I lowered my voice.

"If the machine is causing this much unrest… should I remove it? Maybe if I take it away for a while-"

He stared at me like the thought itself was dangerous.

"You can't! It isn't a casual pastime anymore. For these people, that machine is proof that their god hears them. It might make these people violent and then they might do something even more…outragious."

He said and I already knew he was right before he finished saying it.

People had already started to argue with these fanatics that believed in the claw machine. There were people who wanted to go home, but the trains were not operational because of the cult.

'It is only a matter of time before things get physical. Is there no way to stop this from happening?'

Right in front of my eyes, the argument escalated instantly. People nearby stopped to watch with fear plastered across their faces. Someone was going to get hurt badly at this rate.

Sirens cut through the tension.

Police cars screeched to a stop and officers rushed out in formation, pushing the cultists back with shields. They shouted orders, insisting everyone disperse.

The cultists didn't have weapons, but their intensity was enough to make the situation feel volatile.

Some people made the sign of the claw symbol while backing away, as if swearing allegiance even in retreat.

Eventually the crowd withdrew, but not because they were intimidated. They left with the poised confidence of people who were regrouping rather than giving up.

Their final declaration rang out in unison:

"This isn't over! We will return! The Claw will take everything!"

Their words chilled me more than their chanting. Cults were really something else.

I watched them slip into alleyways and side streets, organized and focused. The police didn't pursue-they only held the perimeter to prevent another takeover.

"Don't let them escape."

Officer Henry's voice reached me as he took command of the situation. He looked as exhausted as he did yesterday, but his eyes softened as soon as he noticed me.

He quickly walked over to me, handing the command of the situation to his secretary (who looked less than happy with this)

"Morning,"

He said, even though the sun was already low.

"Long day?"

I asked.

"One of the longest. These pests are causing us too much trouble. If only they were not a threat to human life…I could have…"

He replied, before trailing off. But he did not get to rest long before he was called back to help with the action.

"I'll contact you when I have new information."

Then he jogged back to his unit, swallowed immediately by the ongoing operation.

The station master stayed beside me, shaking his head in frustration and fear. I stayed a little longer, watching officers push people away while commuters pleaded for the station to reopen.

Nothing about the scene felt real and most of it also felt like it was my fault.

I finally turned to leave.

I knew that I should feel guilty about all that was happening. After all, I played a huge role in all this. But I could not bring myself to feel guilty.

If anything, I felt a little proud of all this.

Halfway down the street, the hairs on my neck rose.

Someone was following me.

I slowed near a road sign as if reading it. Behind me, footsteps slowed too. When I crossed the street, they crossed. At first, I hoped it was coincidence.

It wasn't.

I glanced around and saw not one person shadowing me. Not two. An entire group had formed around me with silent precision.

There was no one around to save me if anything were to happen. I only had one choice in this matter- to surrender and see that these people wanted from me.

My throat felt dry, but I forced myself to speak first.

"If there's something you want, just tell me. Maybe I can actually help."

None of them responded. They just stared at me through those dark hoods, unreadable, and then the one closest to me tilted his head as if signaling.

Without a word, the group shifted and started walking away, leaving a narrow path in the circle for me to follow.

It didn't feel like I had a real choice.

I walked with them in silence, staying in the center as they moved like a single organism, surrounding me while guiding me somewhere deeper into the city.

The farther we walked, the quieter the streets became. We slipped into the back roads, then past shuttered shops and dim intersections, and the longer it went on, the stronger the alarm bells rang in my mind.

Finally, I stopped in the middle of the alley they were leading me down.

"That's enough. I'm not taking another step until someone tells me where we're going and why you're dragging me there."

I said, keeping my voice steady.

The hooded figure closest to me turned sharply. His voice came out strained, laced with irritation.

"Don't ask stupid questions. Just do as-"

He didn't finish.

A hand shot out from behind him, gripping his shoulder firmly. Another figure, taller and standing with the kind of posture that made the others instinctively step back, took a step forward.

Even without seeing his face, I could tell he was the leader.

"That's not how you treat a potential ally. He is not a pawn, and he is not here as a prisoner."

The leader said, voice calm but commanding enough to slice through the tension. Then, directed at the others, he added.

"If we want him to listen, he must know we respect him."

The group instantly lowered their heads, chastised into silence.

The leader turned toward me. I still couldn't see his face under the hood, but the weight of his attention felt sharp enough to cut skin.

"I apologize on behalf of my people. We did not mean to startle you. We just want you to come with us because you have a strong connection with our god."

He said in a calm voice, but it was not really a choice.

I held his gaze, or at least the area where his eyes should have been.

"Are you sure you've got the right guy? Because I don't know who you think I am."

The words came out half cautious, half disbelieving. He didn't answer.

Instead, the leader simply turned around again and lifted one hand-not demanding, not forcing, just silently asking me to continue walking.

That silence said more than any explanation could. They believed something about me, and whatever it was, they were certain of it.

I didn't like walking into mystery, but refusing now wouldn't get me any answers.

So I swallowed my unease and followed them again-this time willingly, even though every instinct I had warned me I might regret it.

They believed I could help them.

'Tsk, if I knew this was going to happen, then I would have stayed with the crowd. Hopefully, it will not cost me much.'

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