The old man in the red coat never spoke to anyone. He sat on a bench near the edge of the town square, always at the same time—10:37 AM, rain or shine. His eyes were sunken and his face was lined like dried riverbeds, but he never seemed to age. People whispered about him, some saying he was a spy, others claiming he was a ghost. No one knew for sure. One morning, a young woman named Elise decided to investigate. She had moved to the town just weeks before, drawn by the quiet and the promise of a fresh start. But the townspeople avoided her, their eyes darting away whenever she asked questions. The only thing they would say was, "Don’t go near the red coat." Elise ignored them. She approached the bench, her boots crunching on the gravel. The man didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on the distant hill where the old military base stood, now overgrown and abandoned. She cleared her throat. He blinked slowly, then turned his head toward her. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his voice low and raspy, like wind through dead leaves. “I’m not afraid of you,” she replied, trying to sound brave. He smiled faintly. “That’s what they all say.” She sat down beside him. The bench creaked under her weight. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, weathered notebook. He opened it and showed her a page filled with strange symbols and numbers. Some looked like equations, others like runes. “What is this?” she asked. “Government secrets,” he said simply. She frowned. “You mean classified information?” He nodded. “Not just any secrets. These are the ones they don’t want anyone to find. The ones that shouldn’t exist.” Elise felt a chill run down her spine. “Why are you keeping them?” He looked at her, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes—fear, but also sorrow. “Because I remember,” he said. “I was part of it. A long time ago. They told me to forget, but I couldn’t. So I kept them safe.” She leaned in closer. “What happened to you?” He closed the book and placed it back in his pocket. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that they’re still looking for them. And if they find out you’ve seen this… well, you won’t be so lucky.” Elise’s heart pounded. “Who is ‘they’?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up, adjusting his coat. “Go home, girl. Don’t come back. That bench is not for you.” She watched as he walked away, disappearing into the mist that had rolled in from the hills. The air grew colder, and the sky darkened as if the day itself was mourning. Over the next few days, Elise tried to piece together the truth. She asked around, but no one would talk. Even the librarian, who had been friendly at first, now avoided her. She found a dusty file in the town records room, but it was blank except for one line: “Project Echo – Discontinued.” That night, she returned to the square, hoping to see the man again. But the bench was empty. In its place, there was a single sheet of paper folded neatly. She picked it up and unfolded it. It was another page from the notebook, but this one had a message written in the same strange handwriting: **"They are watching. Do not trust anyone."** A cold wind blew through the square, carrying with it a whisper she couldn’t quite understand. She looked up at the hill, where the old base stood in silence. Something moved in the trees, just beyond the fence. She couldn’t tell if it was a shadow or something else. She ran home, heart pounding, and locked the door behind her. That night, she dreamt of the man in the red coat, standing in front of a massive door labeled “ECHO.” Behind it, lights flickered and voices murmured in a language she didn’t know. When she woke, the dream felt too real, and the note on the table had changed. Now, the words read: **"You are already inside."**