The air in the room felt colder than before, as if someone had quietly opened a window to let the night seep inside. Ayan swallowed hard, his throat dry. “This isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, but his voice sounded weak, almost distant. The
...
Labubu doll remained perfectly still, but its eyes—those glassy, reflective eyes—seemed to hold a spark of awareness. Ayan felt like he wasn’t just looking at the doll anymore; he was being observed in return.
