*Click*
*Click Click*
"Hello?"
"Anyone?"
"Anybody… answer…?"
"…Please…"
"…Please help us…!"
***
December 4, Thursday night
Westbridge University, Irvine, California
10:56 p.m.
Samy lay on her bed, phone in hand, the soft glow illuminating her quiet room. The dorm was still—silent except for the faint hum of electronics.
Her room reflected her personality: girl-ish, delicate, and overwhelmingly pink. She had wished to paint the walls pink, but dormitory rules forbade it. Instead, she surrounded herself with pink in smaller doses: a pink laptop, pink accessories, pink flowers, pink stickers, and a pink blanket. Even her clothing leaned toward the color—soft pink shirts and shorts.
She was engrossed in a video on her phone, a cartoon series she adored. Childlike in her interests, she often indulged in hobbies others might consider childish. Yet alongside her whimsical tastes, she was also a dedicated fan of a Korean pop idol group.
Her friends—Rukasa Senrose, Jenny Loviet, Phoquina, and Savannah Zertis—shared her interests, which is why they had formed a bond. Of them, Rukasa was closest; the one who had reached out first, who had befriended her when she had hesitated to connect with anyone else.
In truth, Samy was an introvert. She preferred solitude, liked to do things on her own, and often avoided sharing personal thoughts. Some might even consider her antisocial. But she wasn't cruel or unfriendly—just quietly independent.
*Knock knock*
The sound echoed softly through the room.
Samy lifted her gaze from her phone. The time on the screen read 11:00 p.m. Her heart skipped. She sat up slowly and called out, trying to steady her voice.
"Who's there?"
No answer came.
She stayed still, listening. No one ever came to her room this late. And even if it were her friends, they wouldn't knock like that—they would text first, or call her name through the door.
Whoever stood outside was someone she didn't know.
Cautiously, Samy slid off the bed and took slow steps toward the door. Her breathing was shallow as she leaned closer and peered through the peephole.
Nothing.
The hallway was empty.
Relief flickered—brief and fragile. Maybe someone had knocked by mistake and left. That had to be it.
It couldn't be a child. No children were allowed anywhere near the college dormitories.
Still, another possibility crept into her mind.
What if they're kneeling?
The thought sent a chill through her spine. If someone was deliberately avoiding the peephole, then opening the door—even slightly—would be a mistake. She double-checked the lock, making sure it was secure.
Slowly, Samy backed away, never taking her eyes off the door.
Then—
Knock.
The sudden sound shattered the silence.
Samy gasped and stumbled backward in panic. Her foot caught on the edge of the bed, and she fell hard onto the floor.
"Ah—!"
Pain shot through her as she landed, the dull thud echoing louder than she wanted. She froze for a heartbeat, terrified that whoever was outside had heard it.
Keeping her eyes fixed on the door, she began to crawl backward, dragging herself away as quietly as she could. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, each beat louder than the last.
Someone was still out there.
And they hadn't left.
The knocking stopped again.
This time, the silence was worse.
Samy trembled as she tried to stand, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She reached for her phone, which had slipped from her grasp when she fell. Her back was turned toward the door now—every instinct screaming at her not to look.
Then she heard it.
A faint creak.
Her blood ran cold.
Slowly—far too slowly—she turned her head. The door was opening on its own, inch by inch, until it hung wide open.
There was no one outside.
A cold wind rushed in, brushing against her skin.
Before she could react, black smoke seeped from every edge of the doorway. It poured in like living ink, crawling along the floor, licking the walls, swallowing the entrance whole.
Samy couldn't process what she was seeing. Her mind refused to accept it—but her body knew fear. Pure, unbearable fear.
She screamed.
The moment her scream escaped, the smoke surged faster, flooding the room. In an instant, it burst forward, wrapping around her body, swallowing her whole.
The door closed slowly behind it.
The black smoke sealed itself inside the room.
And then—nothing.
From the outside, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Inside, the sounds of cracking echoed—bones straining, pain tearing through flesh. Screams followed. Pleas for help. Desperate sobbing.
Yet somehow, no one heard a thing.
That's how she died.
***
December 5, 11:53 AM
Nurse's Office, Westbridge University, Irvine, California
Ryu lay unconscious on a white bed inside the nurse's office. The room was quiet, occupied only by the school nurse, Lovia Volka.
Lovia wore a white medical uniform. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back, revealing a youthful beauty suited to someone in her early twenties. Sitting at her desk, she wrote notes carefully while occasionally glancing toward Ryu, monitoring his condition as she continued to write.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then, a gentle knock sounded at the door, followed by a polite voice.
"Miss Lovia, may I come in?"
The voice was familiar. Lovia immediately stood and opened the door. Standing outside was Miss Buron. She stepped inside, passing Lovia as the nurse moved aside to give her space. Miss Buron walked straight to the bed and stopped beside Ryu, her face filled with worry.
"He's still asleep?" she asked, turning toward Lovia.
Lovia said little and simply nodded in response. Miss Buron shifted her gaze back to Ryu, her hands gripping the metal bar at the side of the bed.
"I'm worried… shouldn't we send him to the hospital?" she suggested, her concern evident.
Lovia shook her head before explaining, "He's only unconscious. There's no need for that. Besides, Leon is already at the hospital—his condition is more serious at the moment."
Miss Buron's expression remained tense. She sighed softly, feeling slightly relieved knowing Ryu was stable, yet her worry lingered—this time for Leon.
Earlier, before coming to see Ryu, she had called James to ask about him and Kenny. James told her they were at the hospital and revealed that Leon's condition was quite severe. He also explained that Kenny had stayed behind at the investigation site related to Samy's case, supporting his sister.
Miss Buron understood the situation better after hearing everything. She informed James about Ryu's condition as well.
Now, she stood quietly beside Ryu's bed. Lovia, on the other hand, returned to her duties, allowing Miss Buron her moment.
Miss Buron worried deeply about Ryu. He had always been the best student in her class, and her eyes often followed him during lessons. She had helped him countless times, building a strong bond between them. To her, Ryu felt more like someone close—almost like family, or at least someone her own age whom she deeply cared for.
***
In the middle of a vast forest, a small boy stood alone.
Towering trees surrounded him, their thick trunks stretching endlessly upward. The sky above was dark—unnaturally so—casting heavy shadows that made the forest feel eerie and lifeless. For several seconds, the boy remained still, silently observing his surroundings. He looked around in confusion, unaware of where he was or how he had arrived there.
Slowly, he took his first step forward.
A dry crunch echoed beneath his feet as dead leaves were crushed against the forest floor. He continued walking, passing tree after tree, each one appearing impossibly massive compared to his small body. The deeper he went, the quieter the forest became.
Then—he saw it.
A figure stood ahead, shrouded in darkness. She had wings. Her clothing was white, glowing faintly against the shadows, and her long golden-blonde hair flowed down her back. She was female—an angelic figure—standing with her back toward him. One of her wings was bathed in pale light, while the other was swallowed by darkness.
Curiosity stirred within the boy.
He approached slowly at first. But without understanding why, his pace quickened. Soon, he was running toward her, his hand reaching out as if compelled to touch her.
The figure tilted her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder.
"...#########"
She spoke—yet the words made no sense. They were distorted, unintelligible, like gibberish whispered directly into his mind.
The boy froze.
Terror washed over his face the moment her voice reached him.
A smile slowly appeared along her side profile. From that angle alone, her smirk looked unmistakably sinister. Her eyes glowed red, and thick blood seeped from them, trailing down her cheeks like tears. More blood dripped from her smiling mouth.
The boy's eyes widened in horror. His body refused to move, as if rooted to the ground.
And then—
Ryu's eyes snapped open.
What the fuck kind of dream was that?! he thought, fear lingering in his chest despite his exhausted body. He gasped and turned his head slightly—
Miss Buron was beside him.
She noticed immediately.
"Ryu…!" she called softly, panic restrained in her voice.
She reached out and held his hand.
"W–Where am I?" Ryu asked, his voice weak and unsteady.
Ryu slowly lifted his upper body, wincing slightly as Miss Buron supported him with both hands. Once he was sitting upright, his eyes wandered around the room. White walls. Medical equipment. The faint scent of antiseptic.
The nurse's office.
Before he could say anything, his thoughts drifted back to the dream.
It was hazy—fragmented, like broken glass scattered through his mind. He couldn't tell who the boy in the forest was. He couldn't tell what the angel truly was, either. Every detail felt distant, slipping away the harder he tried to grasp it.
Yet something about her stood out.
In the dream, the angel's hair had been long and golden-blonde, flowing freely down her back, almost glowing against the darkness of the forest. But the figure he had seen earlier—before collapsing while running to class—was different.
That one had darker hair, not golden at all. Shorter. Heavier. It didn't shine—it absorbed the light around it.
They were not the same.
That realization sent a faint chill through him.
His thoughts were interrupted when Miss Buron spoke, concern filling her voice.
"Ryu, are you okay? How are you feeling?"
Ryu turned his head toward her, forcing himself back to the present. Before he could answer, he noticed another presence in the room. He glanced briefly toward Dr. Lovia, then looked back at Miss Buron.
"I'm alright… uh… what happened?" he asked quietly.
Miss Buron opened her mouth to explain, but Lovia spoke first.
"You fainted while Anna was trying to bring you here."
The memory returned instantly—the sudden dizziness, the way his vision had darkened without warning. Ryu cleared his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed by the situation. Still, it was something he couldn't control.
Silence followed.
Ryu didn't know what else to say after waking up. The room felt oddly tense, almost awkward.
Miss Buron broke the silence.
"Ryu… someone wants to see you right now. If it's okay, I'll let him in."
She slowly stood up and took a few steps back.
Ryu hesitated, then nodded. Even though he didn't feel fully recovered, even though his mind was still tangled in the dream and the strange memory that followed it, he agreed.
He had a feeling this wouldn't be an ordinary visit.
Miss Buron walked toward the door and twisted the handle, slowly opening it.
As the door creaked open, a man appeared. He looked to be in his late forties, perhaps older. He wore heavy clothing, thick and layered, as if dressed for winter despite the season. His presence alone carried a certain weight—calm, firm, and quietly authoritative.
He stepped inside.
Miss Buron gave a slight bow, and the man greeted Lovia with a small hand gesture, raising his palm in acknowledgment. Lovia returned the gesture with a respectful nod. When his eyes finally settled on Ryu—who was watching him with uncertainty—the man spoke.
"Hello, Ryu."
Ryu stared at him, confused. He didn't recognize the man at all. And yet, deep in his chest, there was an odd sense of familiarity, a feeling he couldn't explain.
Noticing Ryu's troubled expression, Miss Buron stepped in to help.
"Ah… Ryu, this is Mr. Riot," she said gently. "The detective involved in the case. I mean—the suicide of Samy."
Mr. Riot seemed appreciative of the introduction. He turned slightly toward Miss Buron and offered a small smile before facing Ryu again.
"Please, just call me Salem," he said. "That's my first name. It's nice to meet you, Ryu. How are you feeling?"
Ryu replied quickly, almost instinctively.
"Ah… I'm alright. I just woke up."
Despite his calm response, nervousness crept into his chest. He had never liked being questioned—especially by someone like a detective, and especially when he himself didn't have any clear answers.
Salem stepped closer to the bed, then slowly turned toward Lovia and Miss Buron. With a polite smile, he asked, "May I have some privacy with him?"
They both understood immediately and nodded. Lovia lingered for a moment longer, casting a brief glance at Ryu—almost as if checking on him one last time—before closing the door gently behind her. She and Miss Buron waited outside.
The hallway was quiet.
They sat down on a nearby bench. Anna was already there, seated alone, while Kenny stood leaning against the wall not far away.
As soon as Lovia and Miss Buron stepped out of the nurse's office, Kenny straightened up and approached them, concern evident in his voice.
"How is Ryu?" he asked.
Anna followed up, "Is he okay?"
Though her tone sounded appropriate to the situation, her concern felt shallow. She didn't truly care much—but as a classmate, she felt obligated to ask.
Miss Buron glanced back at the closed door before answering.
"He's awake now," she said. "That's what matters."
***
Ryu faced the detective standing close to his bed.
Salem rested one hand on the metal bar beside him, his grip firm. His eyes remained fixed on Ryu, studying him carefully as he spoke.
"Do you remember me…?"
The question caught Ryu off guard.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Do I know him?
Have I met him before?
Who is this man…?
No matter how hard he searched his memory, nothing clear surfaced. And yet, an uncomfortable familiarity lingered—an instinctive feeling that told him he had seen this man somewhere before. Maybe not recently. Maybe not in this way.
Everything that had happened since yesterday felt wrong.
Strange. Disconnected. And somehow… centered around him.
Why?
What is happening to me…?
Ryu raised his right hand and pressed it against his temple as a sharp headache pulsed through his skull.
Salem noticed immediately.
"Don't think too deeply about it," he advised calmly. "I know you're trying to piece things together. But ever since you slept past eleven last night, your life has started to change, hasn't it?"
The words struck him like a blow.
Ryu's hand dropped. His eyes snapped back to Salem, confusion and alarm swirling together.
Salem's expression didn't change. His gaze remained steady—too steady.
"Samy didn't die by suicide," he continued flatly. "Something was behind it. Something far more dangerous."
He paused, "And you and I," Salem added quietly, "should already know who."
"What do you mean?" Ryu asked.
Salem didn't answer right away.
Instead, he continued calmly, "Back then, I had to come and see you often. Every time, I erased your memories."
He glanced away briefly. "But now, I don't have to anymore."
Ryu's breath hitched.
"You're old enough to face the world," Salem went on. "You've broken the seal she placed on you."
As he spoke, Salem reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette. He lifted it toward his lips, then paused midway and tilted his head slightly.
"By the way," he asked casually, "is smoking allowed here?"
Ryu was still frozen, his mind unable to catch up.
What seal?
Who is 'she'?
He kept coming back to erase my memory?
Erase memories of what…?
His thoughts spiraled until he noticed Salem was about to light the cigarette.
"—No," Ryu said quickly. "It's not allowed."
He pointed weakly toward the sign on the wall: NO SMOKING.
Salem followed his gesture, let out a quiet sigh, and slipped the cigarette back into its pack before tucking it into his coat pocket.
"My apologies," he said. Then his tone shifted. "Anyway—everything that happened today, if you noticed… it started because you slept past eleven."
Ryu frowned.
"The seal she placed on you," Salem continued, "was meant to keep you safe. To protect you from many dangers."
He paused for a moment, then spoke again—this time more seriously.
"I was gifted with an ability," Salem said. "The power to control memories. I can erase them. Alter them. Give them. Even steal them."
Ryu felt his chest tighten.
So that's what he did to me…
"But I don't need to use that ability on you anymore," Salem added. "Breaking the seal after turning eighteen means you're supposed to be ready to face this twisted world."
He stopped speaking.
Then, slowly, Salem leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Ryu's with unsettling intensity.
"But you aren't ready," he said quietly.
"Are you?"
Ryu went silent for a few seconds.
His eyes were fixed on the white blanket covering his legs, his fingers slowly tightening around the fabric until his knuckles turned pale.
"I dont know... But..." he said quietly, "who is the one that killed Samy?"
Salem didn't answer immediately.
He studied Ryu for three long seconds before replying in a calm, measured voice.
"An evil spirit."
Evil… spirit?
Ryu's eyes widened slightly.
So Samy was killed by a ghost?
Ghosts exist?
His thoughts spiraled. The word alone shattered everything he believed about reality. He stared blankly ahead, lost in disbelief.
Salem didn't interrupt him right away. He cleared his throat, let out a long sigh, and then spoke.
"Young man, I can tell you're having a hard time accepting this. You didn't expect such things to exist, did you?"
He paused. "Well, technically… they don't. At least, not originally."
"What do you mean…?" Ryu asked, lifting his head.
"Our world is protected by a barrier," Salem explained. "The real world—this world—is connected to many others. Different realms. One of them is the spirit world."
Ryu listened, his body stiff.
"The thing that killed Samy came from there," Salem continued. "It was able to cross into this world because the barrier was broken."
Ryu let out a weak, hollow laugh and rubbed his face with his palm.
"Ha… haha…"
He shook his head. "This all sounds so absurd…"
"I know," Salem replied simply, his expression unchanged.
"But then…" Ryu asked, forcing himself to stay calm, "how do you know all of this?"
Once again, Salem took his time before responding.
"I'll tell you that later."
Ryu froze, unsatisfied. His chest tightened with frustration.
"Why not tell me now?" he pressed.
Salem gave him a small, almost sympathetic smile.
"I can't reveal everything at once," he said. "Your mind wouldn't be able to handle it. Not yet."
Then, more quietly, he added, "And you'll need your memories first."
Ryu swallowed.
A strange pressure formed in his chest—fear mixed with anticipation. His hands loosened their grip on the blanket as a distant unease crept into his body. If his memories had been erased before, then whatever he was about to remember wasn't something small.
It was something important.
Something dangerous enough to be sealed away.
Salem straightened slightly.
"By the way," he said, his tone steady, "I'm going to return the memories I took from you back then."
He looked directly into Ryu's eyes.
"Can we begin?"
Ryu took a moment—no more than ten seconds—before nodding quietly.
Salem raised his hand and gently placed his palm on top of Ryu's head. Before doing anything, he spoke casually, as if what he was about to do were nothing out of the ordinary.
"I've done this many times before," he said. "But this will be the first time you witness my ability… and your first time experiencing it directly."
The room seemed to grow unnaturally still.
The faint hum of electricity, the ticking clock on the wall, even the distant sounds of the hallway—all of it felt muted, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Ryu felt a strange pressure gathering at the back of his mind, not painful, but heavy—like something long buried was slowly being unearthed.
His heartbeat began to race.
Salem's eyes narrowed slightly as he added in a low voice, almost to himself, "And from this moment on… your life will be completely different."
A pale cyan light bloomed beneath Salem's palm, spreading softly across Ryu's hair and forehead. The glow pulsed gently, like breathing—unnatural, yet oddly precise. Thin threads of light sank into Ryu's head, as if searching for something hidden deep within.
Ryu's body tensed instantly.
A sharp, unfamiliar sensation surged through him, sending chills down his spine. His breath caught in his throat, and instinctively, his eyes snapped shut as the energy flooded his senses. The feeling wasn't pain—it was wrong, alien, otherworldly, as though his mind were being unlocked by a force that didn't belong to this world.
Something long forgotten began to stir.
Even with his eyes closed, a vision suddenly bloomed in Ryu's mind.
The sensation was strange—disorienting, yet vivid. Images surfaced one after another, fragmented and fleeting, like shattered pieces of glass drifting through darkness. Most of them vanished before he could grasp their meaning.
But one memory remained.
Clear. Complete.
It was eleven years ago.
Ryu was still a child.
He found himself sitting inside a tent pitched beneath a vast, cloudless sky. Sunlight poured down from above, warm and gentle, filtering through the fabric and illuminating the space within. Outside, the shadows of tall trees stretched across the ground, swaying softly with the breeze.
The air felt calm. Safe.
He sat on a seat made from a thick wooden log. Two other log seats were placed nearby, forming a small circle around a campfire in the center. Flames crackled quietly as two pieces of meat were skewered on a sharp iron rod above it.
Deer meat.
He remembered that clearly—it was the result of his father's hunt earlier that day.
His father sat beside him.
He wore rugged outdoor clothing suited for jungle exploration—thick fabric, muted colors, built for survival rather than appearance. His face looked younger than Ryu remembered from the present, his expression calmer, steadier.
In his hands was a bolt-action hunting rifle—a Remington 700.
His father methodically wiped the rifle with a cloth, cleaning it with careful, practiced movements. Every motion was precise, as if the weapon were something sacred rather than merely a tool.
Ryu remembered now.
This had been a vacation—but not an ordinary one.
His father had brought him along into the jungle on purpose. He rarely bought meat from the outside world; hunting was his way of living. And more than that…
This trip was meant to be training.
To teach him how to survive.
How to observe.
How to protect himself in a world far more dangerous than it appeared.
After that, it was the only memory he was able to witness for any length of time.
Everything else came too fast.
Images flashed violently through his mind—disconnected, overwhelming.
He saw himself deep in the jungle, standing still as an angel shrouded in darkness watched from afar. Then another vision struck—someone dressed in a white gown, their dark golden hair catching faint light, their face obscured no matter how hard he tried to see it.
Then came scenes he had never seen before.
A burned house, reduced to blackened ruins, smoke still lingering in the night air.
A dead deer, its lifeless body moving unnaturally as it walked between bushes under the cover of darkness, its eyes hollow and wrong.
And finally—His father.
Standing still, his back turned toward Ryu.
In his hand was a shining dagger, its blade soaked in fresh blood, glistening under an unseen light. He didn't turn around. He didn't say a word.
The vision shattered.
Ryu's eyes flew open as he gasped sharply, his chest tightening painfully. For a moment, it felt as though something heavy was crushing his lungs. He coughed violently, sucking in air as if he hadn't breathed for over a minute.
When his vision cleared, Salem was standing in front of him—his hand already withdrawn, his expression unreadable.
Ryu stared at him, his heart still racing.
"I…" he swallowed, his voice shaky, "…I don't remember everything, do I?"
As he tried to piece the memories together, the gaps became painfully obvious. What he had seen felt incomplete—fragments torn from a much larger truth.
Salem didn't hesitate.
"That's intentional," he said calmly. "It's better for you to remember things slowly. I made sure it would work that way."
He paused briefly before adding, "As I said before—if you were to remember everything at once, you would lose your mind."
Ryu took a moment to steady his breathing, letting the tension slowly drain from his body. He closed his eyes again—not in fear this time, but in concentration—carefully sorting through every fragment that had returned to him. Each memory felt fragile, like glass, yet undeniably real. He traced them one by one, trying to understand their meaning, trying to accept that they were his. The jungle. The angel. His father. The blood. None of it felt distant anymore—it felt remembered.
Then, from somewhere deep within his mind, a voice surfaced.
It was young. Small. Trembling.
His own voice—from when he was a child.
"Angela."