Daylight made the house feel a little safer.
At least, that was what Nara tried to believe.
Sunlight streamed through the tall second-floor windows, illuminating the hallway that had felt like somewhere else the night before. Door number 14 still stood beside room 13.
Nara had been staring at it for almost ten minutes.
“I’m opening it now,” she muttered, drawing a deep breath.
Her hand closed around the doorknob.
This time, it wasn’t cold.
Click.
The door opened.
Nara aimed her phone’s flashlight inside.
There was no long hallway.
No child’s figure.
Nothing moving.
Only a small bedroom.
Nara stepped inside slowly.
The room looked like a young boy’s bedroom.
A study desk stood beside the window. On it were several schoolbooks, pencils, an eraser, and a car-shaped pencil case.
A pair of children’s shoes sat in the corner.
Small clothes hung neatly inside the wardrobe.
Everything looked new.
Too new.
Nara approached the desk.
She picked up one of the schoolbooks.
There wasn’t a speck of dust.
Even though this house was supposed to have been empty for a long time.
“How is that possible?” she asked, flipping through the book.
There was no answer.
Nara put the book back.
Then her eyes fell on a small calendar hanging on the wall.
She moved closer.
The calendar showed a year from decades ago.
Nara furrowed her brow.
“So this room really has been here all along.”
She touched the calendar.
The paper was brittle.
Yet the ink on the date was still clear.
Nara stepped back.
Then her gaze fell on the bed.
The small bed was covered with white sheets.
A pillow lay at the head.
Nara moved closer.
For some reason, she felt she had to inspect the bed.
Her hand touched the sheets.
Nara jerked it back at once.
Warm.
Not warm from sunlight.
Warm as if someone had just gotten up.
“That’s impossible,” she whispered, staring at her palm.
She touched it again.
Still warm.
Nara then touched the pillow.
There was an indentation in the middle.
As if someone had just lain there.
Nara’s breathing grew labored.
She took a step back.
“There’s no one in this house.”
The words sounded like an attempt to convince herself.
Nara searched the entire room.
Under the desk.
Inside the wardrobe.
Behind the curtains.
There was no one.
Then she found an old storybook beneath the bed.
Nara picked it up.
Its cover showed a young boy standing in front of a house.
She opened to the first page.
There was a small handwritten name.
DIMAS.
Nara slowly ran her finger over the writing.
“Dimas...”
The name felt familiar.
She turned the pages one by one.
The story itself was simple.
About a boy who lived with his mother.
But the handwriting on several pages made Nara stop.
There were little notes.
Mom is afraid of this house.
The next page.
Mom says not to go to the second floor.
Then the last page.
Nara read the sentence there slowly.
> “Mom says I’m not allowed to open the door after 3:13 a.m.”
Nara froze.
That number again.
3:13.
She closed the book.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded from the hallway.
Tap...
Nara turned.
Tap...
The sound drew closer.
Small footsteps.
Like a child’s feet.
Nara stood up immediately.
“Who’s there?” she asked, gripping the book tightly.
There was no answer.
Tap...
The footsteps stopped right outside the door.
Nara stared through the gap beneath it.
There was no shadow.
She slowly walked closer.
Then she opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
Nara shone her flashlight to the left.
There was no one.
She looked to the right.
Still empty.
“Not funny,” she muttered with a sigh.
Nara went back into the room.
But she stopped in her tracks.
The bed had changed.
The pillow that had been on the right side...
was now in the middle.
Nara stared at it without blinking.
She was sure she hadn’t touched the pillow.
“Who moved it?” she asked, slowly backing away.
There was no answer.
Nara moved closer.
Something even more horrifying had appeared on the surface of the pillow.
An indentation shaped like a head.
Short hairs were imprinted across its surface.
As if someone had just lain there.
Nara held her breath.
Then, slowly, a small sentence appeared on the sheets, as if written by an invisible finger.
DIMAS IS STILL ASLEEP.
Nara backed away.
The storybook fell from her hand.
Thud.
From beneath the bed came the whisper of a young boy.
“Don’t wake me.”
Nara froze.
And for the first time since entering room 14...
she heard someone breathing beneath the bed.