Chapter 4 – The Knock at Midnight
[12:00 AM – Mission Started]
The mechanical voice echoed inside Lumian's skull, cold and final. His pulse quickened. The words dissolved into silence, leaving only the faint hum of the apartment building.
The air felt wrong now—heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Lumian sat on the edge of the creaky bed, pocketknife clutched in a white-knuckled grip. His wristwatch ticked far too loudly, each second dragging like a nail scraping across his nerves.
Five hours, he thought. Just survive five hours.
A sound answered him.
Creak.
Somewhere in the corridor, the old wooden floor shifted under unseen weight. Lumian froze. Slowly, he approached the door and pressed his ear to it.
Silence.
Then it came again—soft, deliberate. A faint, rhythmic tapping, like bare feet brushing against the boards. Tap. Tap. Tap. The steps passed by his door, then halted.
Before he could breathe, a sudden knock thundered against his door.
Lumian staggered back, nearly dropping the knife. His heartbeat roared in his ears.
The knocking stopped. A silence thick enough to choke him filled the room. He edged forward again, breath shallow.
The knock returned, louder, urgent.
Sweat dripped down his temple. It's just a tenant, he told himself. Just a neighbor.
Then a voice spoke, muffled through the wood:
> "It's me… the one you saw earlier."
Lumian's blood ran cold. It was the woman from before—the one who had screamed and told him she slipped.
He swallowed hard. "…Why are you here? At this hour?"
The silence on the other side stretched too long, unnatural. Finally, the woman's voice came again, trembling:
> "Can you… accompany me? I'm scared."
Every hair on Lumian's body stood on end. He thought quickly. I just met her. Why would she come to me? At midnight?
His instincts screamed. Something was terribly wrong.
"…I'm sorry, miss," he managed, voice dry. "I can't."
The reply came almost instantly, but the voice was different now—strained, distorted.
> "Why… why… why…?"
Each repetition grew sharper, more twisted. The knocking resumed, faster this time, rattling the frame. The air turned icy, his breath misting in front of him.
Lumian backed away, heart hammering. "No… this isn't human."
The voice outside hissed again, broken and mechanical:
> "Come out."
The knocking exploded into furious pounding, shaking the door in its hinges. He flinched, pressing himself against the far wall.
Then—abrupt silence.
A new sound followed.
Scrrraaatch.
Long nails dragged down the wood, slow and deliberate, leaving invisible scars on his sanity. The sound repeated, again and again, until his skull buzzed with the vibration.
Lumian's body trembled, but his mind clawed for clarity. Wait… if it wants me so badly, why hasn't it come in?
His eyes darted to the locked door. Yes. That's it. Something's stopping it. There must be restrictions. As long as I stay inside, I'm safe.
Clinging to the thought, he forced himself toward the door and bent to the keyhole.
Only a shadow awaited him.
Not a normal shadow, but a warped silhouette that twisted unnaturally, as if it was aware of his gaze. The instant it shifted toward him, Lumian recoiled, heart dropping into his stomach.
The system's voice cut through the suffocating tension:
> [Warning: Host detected abnormal entity – Tier I Specter.]
[Class : Shade.]
[Ability: Ghost Sense – Activated.]
[Danger Level: Low to Medium.]
His breath hitched. A Shade. His first classified encounter.
"Low danger?" he whispered bitterly, clutching his chest. "To me, this is already hell…"
For a moment, the knocks ceased. The cold lingered. Lumian forced a shaky laugh. "Fine. I'll wait. As long as I stay here, I'm safe—"
The room plunged into darkness.
The single bulb overhead flickered violently, dimming until only shadows remained. A suffocating chill bled into the room, burrowing under his skin.
And then he heard it.
Crrrk… crrrk…
Crawling.
From the bathroom.
For a brief moment, the scratching ceased.
The bulb above him flickered—once, twice—before dimming altogether. The cold deepened, biting into his bones.
Then—another sound.
Crawling.
From the bathroom.
A wet, dragging shuffle, like something pulling itself across the tiles.
Lumian stiffened, knife raised, eyes darting to the bathroom door at the far side of the room.
The scratching at his main door had stopped completely.
His blood ran cold.
Realization dawned.
The ghost outside hadn't been trying to get in.
It had been keeping him distracted.
Because something else was already inside.
A presence heavier, darker, more suffocating than the Shade.
He had been so focused on the voice at the door that he hadn't sensed the other one—lurking, waiting.
His entire body trembled.
"…So that's why," he whispered to himself. "That woman… couldn't enter. Because something worse is already here."
The crawling grew louder. Closer.
The mission had only just begun.
And he wasn't alone in the room.