When Hana moved into the apartment, she was promised silence.
The city had grown too loud for her.
After her father's death and he brother's disappearance, every car horn, every siren, every shout from the street felt like a scream inside her skull.
So she found a place just outside the city, a tired building with peeling walls and forgotten tenants.
Her room was small, her furniture secondhand but looked well-maintained and decent .
She just wanted quiet.
Her room had one door, one window facing an alley and the other facing highway.
With white wallpaper that looked like pressed linen.
She counted the corners each night, just to make sure everything stayed still.
And it did.
For the first five days.
---
On the sixth day, Hana awoke to find a third window.
It was on the opposite wall—directly above her desk.
It hadn't been there the day before.
She was sure of it.
She even had pictures of her room, taken out of boredom.
She checked them.
No window.
And yet now, there it was.
Black-framed. Square. Frosted from the inside.
She stood in front of it, shivering.
There was no draft, but her arms were coated in goosebumps.
When she leaned close to the frosted glass, she saw a silhouette.
A man.
Just standing there.
Not moving.
Not blinking.
---
The landlord insisted there was no window on the outside wall.
He came to see it himself. Hana waited, heartbeat buzzing like electricity, as he opened the door.
"There," she said, pointing.
But it was gone.
Nothing but plain white wallpaper.
The landlord gave her a long look. "Have you been sleeping, miss?"
---
That night, the window was back.
This time, it was clear.
And the man was closer.
Still behind the glass, still unmoving—but closer.
Hana could make out his face now.
Sort of.
He didn't have features.
Only… the suggestion of them.
A smile that didn't stretch.
Eyes that didn't glisten.
And skin that looked more like smudged reflection than flesh.
And then, their eyes met.
Hana tried to scream, but nothing came out.
Her voice stuck to her throat like glue.
The man raised one hand and tapped the window once.
"You dream loud," he mouthed.
---
Hana stopped sleeping.
She tried coffee, alarms, cold showers.
She played music, danced, screamed, cut her nails till they bled—anything to stay awake.
But even when her eyes were open, the window was always there.
It began bleeding into everything.
The television screen sometimes flickered with static and showed him—standing behind her.
The mirror in the bathroom revealed a second window beside her.
Her phone refused to take pictures of the wall where the window stood.
It only showed a man pressing against glass.
"Let me out," he whispered one night, from inside her phone.
---
She begged her friend Roland to visit.
He came. Looked around.
Drank the bitter tea she brewed with trembling hands.
"There's no window, Hana," he said gently.
"There's never been a window."
Hana stared at the wall.
It was white again. Innocent. Empty.
"You think I'm sick?," she asked.
Roland hesitated. "I think you're tired that's all."
---
That night, she slept.
For the first time in four days.
She dreamed of snow.
And him.
Not outside the window this time—but inside her room.
He stood over her bed, face melting like wax.
He crouched beside her, one knee creaking, as if his bones were made of old furniture.
"You asked for silence," he said.
"So I came."
Hana couldn't move. Couldn't speak. But her mind screamed, and he heard it.
He always did.
"I am the breath between thoughts. The shape behind the mirror.
I do not haunt. I answer."
Then he leaned closer, eyes burning like smoldering cotton.
"And now you must give me a name."
---
She woke up with his handprint on her neck.
---
Hana tried to move out.
Tried to pack, but everything she touched vanished.
Clothes melted in her fingers.
Her phone showed nothing but looping footage of her own face sleeping.
The front door was a wall now.
And the window was larger.
It took up the whole wall.
And he was stepping through.
Not smashing it.
Not opening it.
Just phasing, like water through cloth.
His body unfolded in fragments—first the hand, then the shoulder, then the horrible smile.
"Thank you," he said.
"It's been so long since someone dreamed with their eyes open."
---
Hana ran into the bathroom, locked the door.
She scribbled in a notebook—this notebook.
She wrote down everything.
His words. His face. Her thoughts.
She pressed her hand to the mirror, begging for it to show anything else.
But the reflection didn't mimic her.
It smiled.
And behind it—he appeared, arm coiled around the reflection's shoulders.
He looked at her. Through her.
"There's a reason you couldn't see the window before," he said.
"Some walls only opens for the lonely."
---
Hana was never seen again.
The landlord sold the apartment.
The new tenant, a man named Felix, posted online about how strangely quiet the place was.
But then he mentioned something odd.
He uploaded a photo of his room, asking:
"Anyone know why there's a third window in here?
I thought this was a two-window apartment."
The comments were full of laughter.
"Bro, there's no third window in your pic."
"You okay?"
"I think your house is gaslighting you."
The final comment came from a deleted account.
It read:
"If he's looking in, don't let him call your name.
Once he names you, you become the dream."
"Just like Hana"
[ Stream Commentary- Tape #21 : The window that wasn't there]
@Enchomay:Another impossible opening in the universe... and somehow, they always look like something we trust. A window. A gift. A harmless wish. But all it takes is one glance through the wrong frame]
[@Jaija:Did you guys see how it smiled at her? The thing behind the glass? Like it had waited forever... just for her. Ewwww. Who smiles like that? Unless they're trying to eat your soul]
[@642: She should've screamed back at it. That's what I would do. Just scream and break every mirror in the house. Shatter the eyes before they blink. Y'know, preemptive violence hehe.]
[@Enchomay:The man in her dream... the same man from Nevan's story? He's infiltrating stories… wait- Kai is this lady related to David?]
Kai (Smirking faintly):
" Do you remember the lady that told Renni that David smiles whenever he lies?"
[@Jaija: the elder sister?!! ]
[@642: ohhh….]
[@Oviesix :Wait wait wait…So the girl—Hana—was David's sister??
And she LEFT TOWN after he vanished?!
That's cold.
She left him behind and moved on.]
[@Enchomay: well, she needs a space to recover....but it looks like David's demon really likes the family]
[@642: yeah, no kidding, he went straight for the trauma- soaked sister....i don't know why i found this funny]
(Kai chuckled)
"Some windows are made of glass.
Others are made of regret and sadness ."
( he places a black envelop on the table)
"Next up, we follow footsteps back to a deed someone tried to forget.
But memories rot loud.
And guilt? It always returns with names.
The next story is called…
"You Know Who You Killed"
Go keep your mirrors covered."
STREAM ENDED