A man woke up on a cold bench in an empty train station. He had no idea who he was. His pockets were empty except for one thing: a train ticket. It read "Departure: Now. Destination: Veliska." He had never heard of Veliska. The big board above him was blank. No people, no trains, no sound. Just him and a ticket to a place he didn't know.

He decided to search the station instead of waiting. He checked his jacket again and found a folded map tucked in the lining. He opened it and read every city name. Veliska was not on it. But someone had drawn a small red circle in an empty spot, where no town should be.

He pressed his thumb on the red circle. The paper grew warm. Faint handwriting bled through the map: "Find the locker. 1-4-7." He looked up and spotted a wall of old lockers across the hall, the numbers fading on each little door.

He found locker 147 and pulled it open. Inside sat a small recorder with one button. He pressed play. His own voice spoke: "If you're hearing this, you wiped your memory to escape something. The man at the window isn't a clerk. Run for the train. Now."

He turned to face the window, and the clerk was gone. In his place stood a shadow with no face. "You can't leave," it hissed. The man held up the recorder and pressed play again, loud. His own steady voice filled the room. The shadow shrank back from a name it could not take, then broke apart and was gone. The exit doors clicked open, and he walked out free.