The car was too quiet.
Luxury always is, I guess. No rumble of the engine, no sound from the outside world. Just thick, manufactured silence pressing against my ears like cotton stuffed into my skull.
I sat in the backseat of Han Jae-yul's black SUV, numb fingers pressed to my lap, staring out the tinted window as the city lights thinned into forest shadows.
We were heading to the villa.
His private estate.
His cage — and now mine.
And all I could think about was the last thing he said to me:
> "You've had dreams you can't explain. A fever that comes and goes. And shadows that don't belong to you."
How the hell did he know?
How could he possibly know about the nightmares?
The ones I never told anyone about — where I woke up drenched in sweat, heart racing, convinced something had been in the room with me. Not a ghost. Not a monster. Just a presence. Something ancient. Watching.
And it wasn't just dreams.
Sometimes I felt it in daylight too — footsteps echoing mine on empty streets, a shiver racing down my spine like someone had just whispered my name.
I told myself I was being paranoid.
Now I wasn't so sure.
---
The car slowed.
Massive wrought-iron gates came into view, hidden behind crawling ivy and stone. They looked like they belonged to a castle — or a cursed manor in a horror film.
They opened without a sound.
That scared me more than if they'd screamed.
The driveway beyond was lined with trees — tall, bare, twisted things that clawed at the sky. Fog curled between them like smoke searching for lungs.
And then I saw it.
The villa.
Cold glass. Stone walls. Black trim. Modern design, but the kind that erases warmth. It stood like it had been waiting for me, older than it looked.
Like it knew secrets I hadn't agreed to learn yet.
---
The SUV stopped.
The driver opened the door. Gravel crunched beneath my boots as I stepped out.
The air hit me like icewater.
Clean. Sharp. Too clean. Like it had been scrubbed of life.
Jae-yul stepped out behind me, barely glancing at the house. Like he didn't need to. Like he already knew exactly what waited inside.
He walked up the steps. Didn't say a word.
And like a fool, I followed.
---
The door opened into silence.
Not the comfortable kind.
The eerie, suffocating kind — the kind that hums under your skin and makes your brain whisper, Run.
The entryway was massive. Pristine gray floors. Dim lighting. Stark furniture that looked more like art than comfort. No warmth. No personal touch.
It didn't feel like a home.
It felt like a mausoleum dressed in wealth.
Then she appeared.
A woman in a tailored black hanbok, her hair twisted into a bun that probably hadn't moved in twenty years. Her face was severe. Lips drawn tight.
"This is Mrs. Song," Jae-yul said. "She runs the house. She'll show you to your room."
That was it.
No welcome. No instructions. He turned and walked away without a second look.
I stood frozen for a second, but Mrs. Song didn't wait.
"Follow me," she said, already moving.
---
We climbed a marble staircase that echoed with every step, like the house was memorizing my arrival.
The hallway stretched long. Too long. Identical doors on either side. No art. No sound. No signs of life.
She stopped at the end.
"This is your room."
She opened the door and stepped aside.
It was beautiful.
Spacious. Minimalist. A king-sized bed, velvet drapes, a full closet already stocked… in my size.
I turned to her, unsettled.
"These clothes… how did he—?"
"He had this prepared after reviewing your profile," she said flatly. "He prefers to plan ahead."
"You've worked here long?"
"Since before the first wife."
I froze. "You mean the—"
"I buried her."
Her face didn't twitch.
"And the second?"
"Her too."
She placed a black keycard on the nightstand.
"Lock your door after midnight. Never open the window. Ever."
"What happens if I do?"
She met my eyes with something colder than fear.
"You'll find out."
Then she left.
---
I didn't move for a long time.
Didn't speak. Didn't unpack. Just stared at the window, heart thudding.
It was shut.
But the curtains…
They swayed slightly. Just slightly. Like someone had just let go of them.
I moved fast, crossing the room to lock it.
Then I crawled into bed, shoes still on, arms wrapped around myself like they could protect me from whatever the hell I'd just stepped into.
The room felt colder now.
Not just from the weather. The kind of cold that sinks into your bones. The kind that feels… deliberate.
I turned onto my side and closed my eyes.
That's when I heard it.
A whisper.
Faint. Barely there.
Like breath brushing my ear from across the room.
My eyes snapped open.
Nothing.
Just stillness.
But I knew I hadn't imagined it.
A few seconds passed. Then—
Another whisper.
Not a voice I recognized. Not even words. Just the shape of something being said. Like a sound that didn't want to be understood.
I sat up, heart hammering.
"Hello?" I whispered into the dark, immediately regretting it.
The silence that followed was too silent.
Like the house was listening.
Then—
Tap.
Soft.
Measured.
From the hallway.
Then silence.
Then another tap — closer.
I bolted upright.
"Who's there?" I called out, voice cracking.
No answer.
I crossed the room, unlocked the door, and opened it just a sliver.
Empty hallway.
But when I turned back around—
He was inside.
Standing by the window.
Han Jae-yul.
No sound. No footsteps. Just there.
I gasped. "How the hell did you—?"
"You left your window unlocked."
"I locked the—" I turned. The latch was twisted open.
"You thought you did," he said. "But something else got in first."
I stared at him, breath stuck in my throat. "What do you mean something else?"
He looked out the window again, and his voice dropped.
"First rule," he said. "Never leave the window open after midnight."
Then he turned, walked past me, and left the room like he hadn't just shattered what was left of my sanity.
---
I locked everything.
Twice.
But I didn't sleep.
Because something was out there.
And for the first time in years…
I didn't feel like it was watching me.
I felt like it was waiting.