"To my surprise, the hallway was pitch black.
The only light came from the elevator button and the glowing red floor indicator. Of course, I pressed the button, but the elevator kept descending—it refused to return.
My heart sank. I looked around.
Needless to say, I was scared. But more than that, it felt like trouble. Do you get what I mean?"
Wang Yong nodded thoughtfully.
Was that place merely some forgotten corner of the world, or a passageway into the spirit realm?
Not all worlds are so simple.
If it was a portal into the spirit world… truth be told, Wang Yong felt a flicker of hesitation.
Maybe he was meant to be here—to experience it. Or perhaps to live through a nightmare.
Yumi Ji looked at him and said, "The darkness—maybe it was just a malfunction in the hotel's systems. Something mechanical, structural.
It caused a stir, sure. Back-to-back overtime, endless drills, getting scolded by my boss… I've been through all of that. Things had just started to calm down."
Wang Yong smiled and nodded in agreement.
In that moment, he suddenly found her… adorable.
And honestly, she had a point. In the real world, nobody jumps straight to supernatural conclusions. Even if something deep in your memory remembers such things, your first thought is: what a pain in the ass.
"As I stood there, frustration slowly began to overtake my fear.
So I thought, screw it, let's figure out what's going on. I took a step. Then another. After two or three steps, something felt… off.
It was my footsteps—they didn't sound right. I was wearing flat shoes, but the sensation beneath my feet was different. Not the usual soft carpeted floor—this surface was far rougher.
I'm sensitive to things like that. I wouldn't get it wrong.
And the air—it wasn't right either.
How do I explain it?
It smelled… musty. Nothing like the fresh, filtered air we pump into the hotel.
No. That air—it was stale.
Old.
Like something from decades ago.
Like the scent you get when you open a dusty storage shed in your grandparents' countryside home—a mix of mildew, dried straw, rust, decay—all settled into silence."
"I turned back to look at the elevator again.
This time, even the button lights were gone.
Total black.
Everything was dead.
Completely, utterly dead."
"Dead… completely dead," Wang Yong echoed in a murmur.
It was a clue he hadn't picked up on before.
Maybe… maybe that place really was the other side of life—
The spirit world.
Or the underworld.
"That's when the fear truly hit me.
How could I not be scared?
Alone in the dark…
But the strangest part?
It was quiet.
Deathly quiet.
Not a sound anywhere. Isn't that odd?
During a blackout, people always make a fuss—shouting, complaining. And the hotel was full that night!
But this… this was silence that made your skin crawl.
The kind of silence that shouldn't be there.
That's what confused me the most."
Yumi Ji and Wang Yong each took a sip of their wine.
She put down her glass and adjusted her glasses.
Wang Yong wasn't quite satisfied, so he downed another gulp.
"Hey. Were you even listening?
Do you get what I was feeling?"
Wang Yong smiled.
"I get it. I do. And I think I know why. I'll tell you in a minute."
He was enjoying being near her.
He wondered—if he had confessed to that girl he used to like… would it have felt like this?
He couldn't really remember her anymore.
But this feeling—it was intoxicating.
The heavy mood lifted just a little with his distraction.
"Really?"
Yumi Ji's dark, lovely eyes widened.
She sighed.
"Not to brag, but I'm not exactly a scaredy-cat. Among girls, I'd say I'm on the braver side. I wouldn't start screaming just because the power went out.
Sure, I was scared. But I told myself, don't panic.
No matter what, I had to find out what was going on.
So I started feeling my way down the corridor."
"Impressive," Wang Yong said, sincerely admiring her.
He had come into this world without fear, because he understood it.
But to push forward into the unknown—
Possibly toward ghosts or worse—
He doubted he would've had the courage. His knees probably would've given out.
"The hallway was straight. I moved along the wall, then turned a corner. That's when I saw it: a faint light ahead.
Candlelight, I guessed—leaking out from a crack in a door.
I figured someone had found a candle and lit it.
So I went to check."
Wang Yong leaned in. He was hanging on every word.
"I stood at the door, unsure what to do.
I didn't know who was inside.
What if it was some weirdo?
I'd never seen this door before either.
Still, I decided to knock—just a little tap, really soft. Tap, tap.
But because everything was so quiet, it sounded much louder than I'd expected.
No answer.
Ten seconds. Twenty. I just stood there, frozen.
Then I heard it—rustling.
Like someone covered in layers of clothing getting out of bed.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Shhh… shhh… shhh…
Like someone dragging slippers.
Coming toward the door.
One slow step at a time."
Yumi Ji's eyes seemed to drift into memory. She gave a small shake of her head.
"The moment I heard that sound, my whole body went cold.
I knew—I just knew—those weren't human footsteps.
I can't explain it.
It was just… instinct."
"That was the first time I really understood the phrase 'a chill down your spine.'
My whole back went numb.
It wasn't just a figure of speech.
I turned and ran.
I might've tripped once or twice—my tights were torn afterward—but I didn't even notice.
All I knew was: run."
"While running, all I could think was—what if the elevator isn't working?
Thank God it was still there.
The floor indicator still lit.
It was on the first floor.
I mashed the button.
The elevator started coming up—but so slow.
Painfully, impossibly slow.
Two… three… four…
I was praying like crazy—come on, hurry, please—but it was no use.
It dragged itself up, like it wanted to test my nerves."
She paused, sipped her Bloody Mary, and fiddled with her ring.
The music had stopped. Someone was laughing nearby.
"But the footsteps?
They were getting louder.
Shhh… shhh… shhh…
Slow. Deliberate.
One step at a time.
Out of the room.
Into the hallway.
Closer and closer."
She paused for thirty seconds or more, still slowly turning the ring—like tuning a radio, searching for a signal.
Wang Yong gently took her hand—pale, delicate, and cold like an art piece in the dim light.
She flinched slightly, trying to pull away.
But then—like a little deer seeking warmth in winter—she let her fingers settle into his.
She bowed her head slightly. Under the shimmer of her gold earrings, her ears flushed faintly pink.
Wang Yong could feel her trembling slightly—cold and soft.
To make someone relive a memory of terror…
It's never easy.
But maybe—just maybe—bringing those fears into the open could start to heal them.
"That kind of fear…
You can't understand it unless you've lived it."
Her voice was dry and brittle.
Wang Yong asked gently:
"And then… what happened?"