Chapter Text
Three days before Halloween, you found an envelope sitting on your front porch.
You didn’t hear anyone knock.
You didn’t see anyone outside.
The street was completely empty.
The envelope was old-fashioned, made from thick black paper with slightly frayed edges. There was no stamp, no return address, and no indication of who had delivered it.
Only your name was written across the front.
Y/N
You picked it up.
The paper was strangely cold.
Not cool from sitting outside.
Cold enough to make your fingers ache.
You frowned and turned it over.
Nothing.
Then you noticed the smell.
Smoke.
Faint, but unmistakable.
You brought it closer.
Woodsmoke.
Like something had burned nearby.
You quickly pulled it away from your face.
“Okay…”
You looked down the street again.
Still nothing.
You took the envelope inside.
⸻
The invitation inside was even stranger.
It was printed on thick, yellowed paper that looked decades old.
At the top, in elegant black lettering:
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED
HALLOWEEN NIGHT
HOLLOW HILL MANOR
8:00 P.M.
You stared at the name.
You knew Hollow Hill Manor.
Everyone did.
The abandoned house sat several miles outside town, surrounded by miles of dense forest. It had supposedly been empty for decades.
You searched for it on your phone.
Photographs came up immediately.
The manor was enormous.
Dark stone. Tall, narrow windows. Peeling paint. Dead vines crawling over the walls. A rusted iron gate.
It looked less like a house and more like something that had been forgotten by the rest of the world.
You scrolled through the pictures.
“There’s no way.”
You searched again.
Old articles described Hollow Hill Manor as abandoned.
Some called it cursed.
Others claimed the family who once lived there had disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
You rolled your eyes.
“Probably just an elaborate Halloween party.”
It had to be.
Someone had clearly gone through a ridiculous amount of effort to make the invitation look authentic.
You took a picture and sent it to Taeyang.
Y/N:
I just got invited to a Halloween party at Hollow Hill Manor 😭
His response came a few seconds later.
Taeyang:
The abandoned house?
Y/N:
YES 😭
Taeyang:
That sounds incredibly safe.
You laughed.
Y/N:
You wanna come?
There was a brief pause.
Then:
Taeyang:
Of course.
Y/N:
You’re not scared?
Taeyang:
I’m brave.
Y/N:
You screamed when you saw a spider.
Taeyang:
That spider was huge.
Y/N:
It was tiny.
Taeyang:
It had confidence.
You laughed so hard you had to put your phone down.
Whatever Hollow Hill Manor was, you weren’t going alone.
And having Taeyang with you made the whole thing feel less ridiculous.
⸻
Halloween night came.
The farther he drove, the quieter everything became.
The town disappeared behind you.
Then the streetlights.
Then the houses.
Soon there was nothing but the narrow road cutting through the forest.
Taeyang kept talking.
He made jokes about the invitation.
He teased you about how quickly you’d probably run if you saw a ghost.
He even started making up ridiculous stories about what the party might be like.
You laughed.
You knew exactly what he was doing.
He was trying to keep you comfortable.
“You know,” you said, looking out the window, “if this turns out to be a cult, I’m blaming you.”
Taeyang laughed.
“Why me?”
“You agreed to come.”
“You invited me.”
“Exactly.”
“Then we’re both going down.”
You smiled.
For a while, the drive felt normal.
Until something moved between the trees.
Your smile faded.
You looked toward the forest.
Nothing.
You turned back toward the road.
Then—something moved again.
A dark shape.
Tall.
Human-shaped.
Walking between the trees.
You sat upright.
“Taeyang.”
“Hm?”
“Slow down.”
He glanced at you.
“Why?”
“I saw something.”
He immediately looked toward the woods.
“Where?”
“There.”
You pointed.
The car slowed.
Taeyang looked through the windshield.
Nothing.
Only trees.
You stared.
“I swear there was someone there.”
Taeyang looked at you.
“I believe you.”
You looked back toward the forest.
For a second, you saw it again.
A figure standing between two trees.
Completely motionless.
Watching you.
Your breath caught.
“There!”
Taeyang turned.
The figure was gone.
He searched the woods.
Nothing.
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
Your heart was pounding.
“I know what I saw.”
Taeyang reached over and gently squeezed your hand.
“Okay.”
You looked at him.
“We’re almost there.”
You nodded.
Neither of you noticed the figure watching from deeper in the forest.
It stood perfectly still as the car disappeared down the road.
⸻
Hollow Hill Manor appeared at the top of the hill.
You stopped breathing for a moment.
The photographs hadn’t prepared you for the size of it.
The manor towered above the trees.
Its windows were black.
Its walls were covered in dead vines.
The roof was partially collapsed.
The iron gate hung crookedly from its hinges.
There were no lights.
No cars.
No music.
No decorations.
Nothing that suggested anyone was hosting a party.
Taeyang parked near the gate.
The engine shut off.
Silence immediately swallowed the car.
You looked at him.
“Where is everyone?”
“I don’t know.”
You reached into your pocket and pulled out the invitation.
Something felt wrong.
You turned it over and your stomach dropped.
There was writing on the back.
You hadn’t noticed it before.
Four words.
Written in the same elegant black ink.
BRING SOMEONE YOU LOVE.
You stared at it.
Taeyang noticed your expression.
“What?”
You hesitated.
Then you turned the invitation toward him.
He read it.
Neither of you spoke.
For some reason, neither of you wanted to acknowledge what it meant.
You folded the invitation and put it back into your pocket.
Taeyang looked toward the manor.
Then back at you.
“You ready?”
You stared at the house.
Every window was dark.
But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you from inside.
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
They stepped out of the car.
The moment you closed your door—the wind stopped.
Completely.
The trees became still.
The forest went silent.
Taeyang looked around.
Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Did you notice that?”
He nodded.
Then you heard it.
A faint sound from somewhere inside the manor.
A floorboard creaking.
Slowly.
Followed by another.
And another.
As if someone was walking through the house.
Coming toward them.
You looked at Taeyang.
Taeyang looked at the manor.
Then—the enormous front door slowly swung open.
Neither of you had touched it.
You both stood frozen at the bottom of the hill.
Waiting.
And from somewhere inside the darkness came the faintest whisper:
“Y/N…”
Your blood ran cold.
Taeyang grabbed your hand.
“Did you hear that?”
You couldn’t answer.
Because the voice had sounded exactly like his.
You stared at Taeyang.
He was standing right beside you.
His hand was still wrapped around yours.
He hadn’t spoken.
“Taeyang…”
“Yeah?”
You swallowed.
“Did you say my name?”
His expression changed.
“No.”
The two of you looked toward the open doorway.
Nothing moved inside.
Beyond the entrance was only darkness.
Taeyang tightened his grip on your hand.
“Stay close.”
You nodded.
Neither of you noticed the dead trees surrounding Hollow Hill Manor.
They seemed to stretch endlessly around the property, their twisted branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers.
The entire hill was covered in them.
Not one living leaf.
Not one patch of green.
Just gray trunks and black branches.
And yet, lining the long driveway leading to the manor were hundreds of candles.
They burned in perfect rows.
Tiny flames flickered on both sides of the path.
You stared.
“Those weren’t in the pictures.”
Taeyang shook his head.
“No.”
The candles continued all the way to the front door.
Hundreds of them. Maybe more.
And there wasn’t a single person outside.
No cars, no headlights, no footprints.
Nothing.
You looked around.
“If there’s a party…”
You paused.
“Where is everybody?”
Taeyang didn’t answer immediately.
You looked at the empty driveway.
“Seriously. Why isn’t anyone arriving? Or leaving?”
The question seemed to hang in the cold air.
Taeyang looked toward the manor.
“Maybe everyone got here early.”
“Then where are their cars?”
He didn’t have an answer.
You looked back toward the road.
There wasn’t a single vehicle anywhere.
“Maybe we’re the only ones who actually came.”
Taeyang gave your hand another reassuring squeeze.
“Whatever happens, we stay together.”
You looked at him.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
For a moment, that was enough.
Then music drifted out of the manor.
Soft music.
An old song playing from somewhere deep inside the house.
You frowned.
“Okay…”
You listened.
There was definitely music coming from inside.
Taeyang glanced at you.
“So there are people.”
You nodded slowly.
“Then why is it so quiet?”
You both approached the front steps.
The candles flickered harder as they passed.
You climbed the first step.
Then the second.
Taeyang reached for the door.
Before his fingers touched it—
creeeeeak.
The door opened.
Slowly.
By itself.
You froze.
Taeyang’s hand immediately found yours again.
“That’s normal,” he whispered.
You looked at him.
“Is it?”
“No.”
You stepped inside.
The temperature dropped instantly.
You shivered.
The music was louder now.
It came from somewhere farther inside the manor, but the enormous entrance hall itself was completely silent.
Then you saw them.
People.
Dozens of them.
Standing throughout the room.
Some stood along the staircase.
Others stood against the walls.
A few were gathered around the massive fireplace.
Every single one wore a mask.
Old masks.
Porcelain masks.
Animal masks.
White masks with blank expressions.
Masks painted with smiling faces.
Masks with hollow black eyes.
You stopped walking.
Taeyang stopped beside you.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The music continued.
Slow.
Beautiful.
Wrong.
Every masked person was staring directly at you.
Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.
“Taeyang…”
“I see them.”
One of the masked figures slowly turned its head.
Then another.
Then another.
Within seconds, every person in the room was watching you.
You felt your fingers go numb.
“Why aren’t they saying anything?”
Taeyang didn’t answer.
A woman standing near the staircase slowly stepped forward.
She wore a white porcelain mask.
Her dress was old-fashioned, black and floor-length.
She stopped several feet away.
You waited for her to speak.
The woman didn’t.
Instead, she slowly raised one finger.
She placed it against the mask where her lips would have been.
And whispered—
“Shhh.”
Your stomach dropped.
The music suddenly stopped.
Complete silence.
Then—
BANG.
The front door slammed shut behind you.
You jumped and spun around.
Taeyang immediately stepped in front of you.
The door was closed.
The room was silent.
Every masked face was still watching you.
And nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Except for the woman on the staircase.
She slowly lowered her finger.
And smiled behind her mask.
Then she stepped backward.
And disappeared into the crowd.
You stared after her.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then—music started playing again.
A completely different song.
Something upbeat.
Almost cheerful.
The masked guests began moving.
Someone laughed.
A couple near the fireplace started dancing.
A man in a black suit walked past you and Taeyang carrying a silver tray covered in glasses.
He stopped.
Held one out toward you.
You stared at it.
The drink inside was dark red.
“Uh…”
Taeyang shook his head.
“We’re good.”
The man said nothing.
He simply continued walking.
You watched him disappear into the crowd.
Slowly, the room began to feel normal.
Almost.
People danced.
People drank.
People laughed.
Music filled the enormous hall.
It could have been any Halloween party.
Except nobody ever spoke to you or Taeyang.
Nobody introduced themselves.
Nobody asked where you were from.
Nobody asked who you came dressed as.
They simply watched.
You stayed close to Taeyang.
He leaned toward you.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’ll let you know.”
He smiled slightly.
“Fair.”
You tried to relax.
You really did.
Then you noticed something.
A woman standing beside a tall mirror.
She wore a beautiful black dress and a silver mask.
You watched her adjust her hair.
Then looked at the mirror.
You froze.
There was no reflection.
The mirror showed the room.
The fireplace.
The dancers.
The candles.
Taeyang.
You.
But not the woman standing directly in front of it.
You blinked.
You looked again.
The woman was still there.
Her reflection wasn’t.
You grabbed Taeyang’s sleeve.
“Don’t look obvious.”
He glanced at you.
“What?”
“The woman.”
He followed your gaze.
“The one by the mirror?”
You nodded.
“Look at the mirror.”
Taeyang did.
His expression slowly changed.
There was a long silence.
“She doesn’t have a reflection,” you whispered.
“No.”
The woman suddenly turned her head.
You immediately looked away.
“Don’t stare.”
Taeyang kept his eyes on her for another second.
Then he looked back at you.
“Okay.”
His voice was quieter now.
“You were right.”
You swallowed.
“There’s something wrong with this place.”
“I know.”
You looked around.
The party continued.
Music.
Dancing.
Laughter.
Nobody seemed to notice anything unusual.
Then you noticed the man across the room.
He was standing completely still.
Black suit.
White mask.
Hands folded behind his back.
You watched him.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
He didn’t blink.
Your stomach tightened.
You kept watching.
One minute.
Still nothing.
Not even a twitch.
You whispered, “Taeyang.”
He followed your gaze.
The man remained perfectly still.
“Is he breathing?”
Taeyang watched him carefully.
“I can’t tell.”
Then the man blinked.
You nearly exhaled in relief.
Except—his eyes closed one at a time.
First the left.
Then the right.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Your blood ran cold.
You grabbed Taeyang’s arm.
“Let’s go.”
He didn’t argue.
“Yeah.”
You began moving toward the entrance.
You tried not to run.
You couldn’t explain why.
Nothing was technically happening.
The music was playing.
People were dancing.
Everyone was behaving like this was a completely normal party.
But the longer you stayed, the more wrong everything felt.
Then you saw another thing.
A man’s shadow stretched across the floor. He was standing near the fireplace.
His body didn’t move, but his shadow did.
It slowly lifted one arm.
The man didn’t.
You stopped.
The shadow waved and your mouth went dry.
You grabbed Taeyang.
“Look.”
He followed your finger.
The shadow lowered its arm.
Then pointed directly at you.
Taeyang’s face went pale.
“Okay.”
He took your hand.
“We’re leaving.”
You both pushed through the crowd.
Nobody stopped you.
Nobody even looked at you.
That somehow made it worse.
You glanced over your shoulder.
The masked people had stopped dancing.
Every single one was now facing you.
Watching.
Waiting.
Taeyang pulled you toward the entrance.
“There.”
You reached the place where the front door had been.
Taeyang grabbed the handle.
Pulled.
Nothing.
He pulled harder.
The door wouldn’t move.
“It’s locked.”
You looked at him.
“Unlock it.”
“I am.”
He tried again.
Nothing.
You looked around.
The entrance suddenly seemed different.
The walls were taller.
The ceiling seemed farther away.
The candles had gone out.
One by one.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
Darkness spread through the room behind you.
Your breathing quickened.
“Taeyang…”
He looked over his shoulder.
The masked guests were still standing there.
Not dancing anymore.
Not drinking.
Just watching.
Taeyang grabbed the handle again.
“Come on.”
He pulled.
Nothing.
You looked at the wall beside the door.
There was no door.
Your blood turned cold.
“Taeyang.”
He stopped.
“What?”
You pointed.
“The door…”
He turned.
The doorway was gone.
Completely.
There wasn’t even a frame.
Just a solid wall.
Taeyang stared.
“No.”
You stepped backward.
“No, no, no…”
You looked around frantically.
They hadn’t moved.
They were standing in the same place.
But the entrance was gone.
The music began playing again.
Softly.
Slowly.
And behind you, dozens of masked people began applauding.
One clap at a time.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
You grabbed Taeyang’s hand.
“It’s not letting us leave.”
Taeyang looked at you.
His face was pale, his hand tightening around yours.
“Then we’ll find another way out.”
From somewhere above you came a quiet sound.
A woman’s voice.
Whispering directly into your ear.
“Why would you want to leave?”
You spun around.
Nobody was there.
Taeyang hadn’t heard it.
But you knew exactly what the voice had said.
And somewhere in the darkness behind you—someone laughed.
You flinched.
Taeyang immediately turned.
The masked guests were still standing in the ballroom.
Every face was pointed toward them.
But nobody was laughing now.
Taeyang’s eyes swept across the room.
“Stay close.”
You nodded.
You moved away from the vanished doorway.
The ballroom seemed different now.
Longer.
The ceiling higher.
The shadows deeper.
You kept your hand locked around Taeyang’s.
Neither of you spoke.
Then you noticed something on the wall.
A sheet of paper.
It had been nailed directly into the old wood.
The paper was yellowed and wrinkled, as if it had been exposed to years of moisture.
You approached it.
“Taeyang…”
He followed.
At the top, written in thick black handwriting, were four words:
RULES OF HOLLOW HILL
You read the first line.
1. Never separate.
Your stomach tightened and you continued.
2. Never answer the knocking.
You looked at Taeyang.
“There wasn’t any knocking before.”
“Don’t worry about that yet.”
You looked back at the page.
3. Never look into the mirrors after midnight.
You frowned.
“Why midnight?”
Taeyang didn’t answer.
You kept reading.
4. If someone calls your name, do not answer unless you can see their face.
Your heart began beating faster.
You remembered the voice outside.
Y/N.
You remembered how it had sounded exactly like Taeyang.
Your eyes moved down.
5. If you see yourself, run.
You stared at the sentence.
“What does that even mean?”
Taeyang’s expression remained serious.
“I don’t know.”
You continued.
6. Do not trust anyone wearing white.
You immediately thought of the woman with the porcelain mask.
The woman in the black dress.
Then you remembered the other masked guests.
Some wore white.
Your fingers tightened around Taeyang’s.
“One of them is wearing white.”
“I know.”
You read the final rule.
Your voice became quieter.
7. If the house asks which one of you should stay, say neither.
You stopped.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then you gave a nervous laugh.
“Okay.”
Taeyang didn’t react.
You looked at him.
“Come on.”
Nothing.
“It’s obviously part of the party.”
Taeyang continued staring at the page.
“Taeyang.”
He finally looked at you.
“That’s not funny.”
Your smile disappeared.
“What?”
He pointed at the paper.
“Look at the handwriting.”
You glanced down.
You had barely noticed it before.
Now you couldn’t stop staring.
The way the letters curved.
The way the R was shaped.
The little hook at the end of every y.
The slight slant of the words.
Your stomach dropped.
“No.”
Taeyang stepped closer.
“Y/N…”
“No.”
You shook your head.
“That’s not mine.”
But you knew it was.
You knew that handwriting.
You had seen it every day of your life.
The page looked like something you’d written yourself.
Not something similar.
Not something close.
Exactly yours.
You reached toward the paper.
Taeyang caught your wrist.
“Don’t touch it.”
You stared at him.
“That’s my handwriting.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t write this.”
“I know.”
Your breathing became shallow.
“Then who did?”
Taeyang looked at the rules again.
His eyes stopped on the final line.
Neither of you noticed the masked people behind you slowly beginning to move.
One step. Then another.
Quietly closing the distance.
You looked back at the page.
The handwriting seemed darker now.
Almost wet.
And beneath the seventh rule, where there had previously been nothing—another sentence slowly appeared.
One letter at a time.
8. Never trust Taeyang.
Your breath caught.
Taeyang saw it too.
His face went completely still.
You looked at him as he looked at you.
Neither spoke.
Then, somewhere behind you—a door slammed.
And every masked person in the room turned toward Taeyang.
Your fingers tightened around his.
Nobody moved.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Then, somewhere across the ballroom, an old grandfather clock began to tick.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
You looked toward it.
The hands were moving.
Slowly.
Almost painfully.
11:59.
Taeyang noticed it too.
“Y/N…”
You looked at him.
“What?”
“Look around.”
There were clocks everywhere.
On the walls, on shelves, above doorways.
Small clocks, large clocks, old clocks, modern clocks.
Every single one had begun moving.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
As the hands crawled toward midnight, the masked guests remained perfectly still.
You felt a strange pressure building inside your ears.
The grandfather clock gave one final tick.
12:00.
Every clock in the house stopped at exactly the same moment.
The music cut off.
The candles stopped flickering.
The entire manor went silent.
You could hear your own heartbeat.
Then every masked guest slowly turned toward you.
Not Taeyang.
You.
Dozens of masked faces stared at you from across the ballroom.
You instinctively stepped closer to Taeyang.
He moved with you.
“Don’t look away,” he whispered.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Then—
Knock.
You froze.
The sound came from somewhere nearby.
Three seconds passed.
Knock.
Knock.
Your eyes widened.
Taeyang’s expression hardened.
The knocking wasn’t coming from a door.
It was coming from inside the wall.
Right beside you.
You stared at the wallpaper.
Another knock sounded.
Knock.
Something was behind it.
Something inside the house.
Something trying to get out.
You grabbed Taeyang’s arm.
“We need to go.”
“I know.”
You backed away from the wall.
The masked guests didn’t react.
They simply watched.
Then you heard breathing.
Right behind you.
Your entire body went rigid.
A voice whispered into your ear.
“Y/N…”
Your heart stopped.
You almost turned.
You felt something move behind you.
A presence.
Close enough that you could almost feel its breath against your neck.
“Y/N…”
Your head began to turn.
Taeyang reacted instantly.
He grabbed your face with both hands and forced you to look directly at him.
“Don’t.”
You stared into his eyes.
His face was pale.
Terrified.
But his hands were steady.
“Don’t turn around,” he whispered.
Your breathing shook.
“I heard—”
“I know.”
The thing behind you went silent.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
Then it spoke again.
This time, its voice was different.
Your blood ran cold.
Because you knew that voice.
It sounded exactly like Taeyang.
“Y/N…”
Taeyang’s expression changed.
The voice continued from directly behind you.
“It’s me.”
You stared at the real Taeyang standing inches from you.
His hands were still holding your face.
His eyes were locked onto yours.
The voice behind you laughed softly.
“Y/N, it’s me.”
Taeyang’s grip tightened.
“Don’t listen to it.”
The thing behind you spoke again.
“Y/N, turn around.”
Taeyang shook his head.
“No.”
“I’m right here.”
Your eyes filled with tears.
The voice sounded perfect.
Every little inflection.
Every familiar softness.
Every tiny detail of Taeyang’s voice.
It was him.
Except it wasn’t.
The thing whispered:
“Look at me.”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
Taeyang pulled you closer.
“Keep looking at me.”
The voice behind you became more urgent.
“Y/N.”
You didn’t move.
“Y/N, please.”
Taeyang’s breathing was shaking now.
“Don’t.”
The voice suddenly became angry.
“Y/N!”
You flinched.
Taeyang wrapped one arm around you and held you against him.
“It’s not me.”
Silence.
Then the thing behind you whispered one final sentence.
“So why don’t you trust me?”
You opened your eyes.
Taeyang was staring at you.
And for the first time since you entered Hollow Hill Manor—you saw fear in his eyes that wasn’t for himself.
It was for you.
Behind you, something slowly scratched at the wall.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
And then a fingernail dragged slowly downward.
Screeeeech.
The masked guests remained silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
As if they already knew what would happen next.
Taeyang grabbed your hand.
“Run.”
You both ran.
Your footsteps thundered across the floor as you tore away from the wall, past the motionless masked guests and toward the nearest hallway.
You didn’t look back.
You couldn’t.
Taeyang’s hand was locked around yours, warm and shaking.
“Don’t let go,” he said.
“I won’t.”
You reached the hallway.
Taeyang shoved open the first door he saw.
You both stumbled through—and stopped.
It wasn’t an exit.
It was a dining room.
A massive dining room with a table long enough to seat fifty people.
Candles burned along its length.
You stared.
“We didn’t come through here.”
“No.”
Taeyang backed out and slammed the door.
They ran farther down the hall.
Another door.
Taeyang opened it.
A bedroom.
Not just any bedroom.
The exact room you’d been standing in thirty seconds earlier.
Your stomach dropped.
“No.”
Taeyang immediately shut it.
They kept running.
The hallway stretched ahead of you.
Ten feet.
Twenty.
Fifty.
A hundred.
Your breathing became ragged.
“Taeyang…”
“I know.”
The hallway was getting longer.
Not metaphorically.
The walls were actually moving.
You watched one of the doorframes slide backward several feet with a slow, grinding creak.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t look at the walls.”
“What?”
“Just keep running.”
They did.
A door appeared on the left.
Taeyang opened it.
A staircase.
He slammed it shut.
Another door.
A nursery.
Another.
A bathroom filled with black water.
Another.
A room with dozens of chairs facing an empty corner.
You nearly screamed when one of the chairs slowly turned toward you.
“Keep going,” Taeyang whispered.
You both ran.
Then you saw the portraits.
They lined both sides of the hallway.
Old oil paintings in enormous, ornate frames.
You slowed.
“Taeyang.”
He stopped.
There were dozens of them.
Maybe hundreds.
Every portrait showed the same couple.
A man and a woman standing together.
The man always wore a black suit.
The woman always wore a long white dress.
They stood in different rooms, different landscapes, different eras—but always together.
You stepped closer to one.
The woman was beautiful.
Pale.
Dark-haired.
Her expression was strangely empty.
The man stood beside her with one hand resting on her shoulder.
You swallowed.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know.”
You moved past the first painting.
Then the second.
Then the third.
You stopped.
“Wait.”
Taeyang looked at you.
“The woman’s face.”
“What about it?”
You pointed.
It had changed.
Just slightly.
Her eyes were different.
They were wider.
And her mouth had curled into the faintest smile.
Taeyang stared.
Neither of you spoke.
They continued on.
Another portrait.
The couple.
Different clothes.
Different background.
Different room.
But the woman’s face was changing again.
Her nose.
Her jaw.
Her eyes.
You felt ice crawl down your spine.
“Taeyang…”
“I see it.”
Both passed another.
The woman looked more like you.
Another.
More.
Another.
The man’s face began changing too.
Taeyang stopped dead.
The man in the painting now had his eyes.
His jaw.
His hair.
His face.
You grabbed his arm.
“No.”
They hurried past it.
Another portrait.
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
The couple wasn’t a couple anymore.
It was you and Taeyang, standing side by side.
You looked exactly like yourself.
Taeyang looked exactly like himself.
But neither of you remembered posing for it.
Because neither of you did.
Your painted hand was intertwined with his.
Your painted expression was terrified.
His was furious.
You moved to the next.
The painting showed you both older.
Standing in the same hallway.
Then another.
You were crying.
Taeyang was holding you.
Another.
They were running.
Another.
They were hiding beneath a table.
Another.
Taeyang was screaming.
You were nowhere in sight.
“Stop,” Taeyang whispered.
You looked at him.
He wasn’t looking at you.
He was looking farther down the hall.
At the newest portrait.
It was still wet.
Paint glistened beneath the candlelight.
You took one step toward it.
Taeyang caught your wrist.
“Don’t.”
But you’d already seen it.
Your blood turned cold.
The portrait showed you.
You were standing in a beautiful garden, wearing a white dress as flowers surrounded you.
And you were smiling.
Not a nervous smile.
Not a frightened smile.
A genuinely happy smile.
Behind you stood Taeyang.
You stared.
His arms hung loosely at his sides.
His head was tilted slightly downward.
And his throat—
Your scream tore through the hallway.
A thick deep red line had been painted across his throat.
Blood poured down the front of his shirt.
His mouth was open.
His eyes were wide.
Dead.
“TAEYANG!”
He grabbed you and yanked you backward.
“Don’t look at it!”
“Your throat—”
“I know!”
He pulled you against his chest and turned your face away from the painting.
“Look at me.”
You were shaking violently.
“Look at me, Y/N.”
You did.
His face was right in front of yours.
Alive.
Breathing.
His hands were trembling against your shoulders.
“I’m here.”
You stared at his throat.
Perfectly intact.
You reached up before you could stop yourself.
Your fingertips touched his skin.
Warm.
Alive.
He flinched.
“I’m okay.”
Your eyes filled with tears.
“But I saw—”
“I know.”
“I saw you dead.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
For the first time since you’d entered the mansion, you realized something.
He was terrified too.
Not of the house.
Not of the monsters.
But of what it could do to you.
Taeyang gently took your hand away from his throat and held it.
“Don’t believe what it shows you.”
You nodded shakily.
Then—a wet sound came from behind Taeyang.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
You both froze.
Taeyang slowly looked over your shoulder.
His expression changed.
“Y/N…”
“What?”
“Don’t turn around.”
Your heart stopped.
“What is it?”
“I said don’t turn around.”
Something wet dragged across the floor behind them.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Closer.
You could hear breathing.
Not Taeyang’s.
Something else.
A woman’s voice whispered from directly behind you.
“Y/N…”
Taeyang’s grip tightened around your hand.
The voice giggled.
Then whispered:
“You liked the picture.”
Your blood ran cold.
Taeyang pulled you into his arms.
“Run.”
They bolted.
Behind you, something screamed.
Not a human scream.
A sound like a hundred people screaming through mouths that weren’t theirs.
The portraits began rattling violently against the walls.
Frames crashed onto the floor.
Glass exploded.
You ran beside Taeyang as the hallway twisted around them.
“LEFT!” he shouted.
They turned.
A wall slammed shut behind you.
“RIGHT!”
They turned again.
The floor suddenly tilted downward.
You slipped.
Taeyang caught you around the waist.
“I’ve got you!”
You clung to him.
For one brief second, you stared at each other.
Your face was inches from his.
His arms were still around you.
Neither moved.
Then something slammed into the wall beside their heads.
You jumped apart.
“RUN!”
They sprinted again.
Behind them, footsteps followed.
Two sets.
Then three.
Then dozens.
But when you glanced back—there was nothing there.
Only the portraits.
Every single one of them now showed the same thing.
You smiling.
Taeyang standing behind you.
His throat cut open.
And in every painting—his dead eyes were looking directly at you.
Even while you ran.
Even when the paintings disappeared around corners.
Even when the hallway changed.
You could still hear his voice.
Whispering from the walls.
“Y/N…”
“Y/N…”
“Y/N…”
And finally—in Taeyang’s exact voice:
“Don’t trust him.”
Taeyang heard it too.
He looked at you.
You looked at him.
For the first time—neither of you knew what to believe.
They ran until Taeyang found an upstairs bedroom.
He shoved you inside, slammed the door, and dragged a heavy dresser in front of it.
Something struck the other side.
Once.
Twice.
Then silence.
They stood there, listening.
Nothing.
Your legs finally gave out.
You slid down against the wall, shaking so badly you could barely breathe.
Taeyang immediately crouched beside you.
“Hey.”
You looked up.
He sat beside you and gently took your hand.
His palm was warm.
“I’ve got you.”
You squeezed his hand.
“What if we don’t get out?”
“We will.”
“You don’t know that.”
He was quiet. Then his expression softened.
“No,” he whispered. “I don’t.”
You stared at him.
“I’m terrified.”
Taeyang swallowed.
“So am I.”
It was the first time he’d admitted it.
No pretending.
No reassurance he couldn’t guarantee.
Just the truth.
Your eyes filled with tears.
“If we don’t make it…”
“Don’t.”
“But if we don’t…”
He looked at you.
“I’m glad I came with you.”
Your breath caught.
“Taeyang…”
He slowly leaned closer.
You did too.
Your foreheads almost touched.
For one tiny moment, the mansion disappeared.
There was only him.
His hand around yours.
His breathing.
Your heartbeat.
Your lips were barely an inch apart—when a voice whispered from beneath the bed.
“He’s lying.”
You froze.
Taeyang’s eyes widened.
Neither moved.
The voice whispered again.
Much closer this time.
“He’s lying, Y/N.”
Taeyang slowly stood.
You grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t look.”
A long silence.
Then—something underneath the bed began to giggle.
Taeyang immediately stepped in front of you.
“Stay behind me.”
The giggling became laughter.
Wet.
Breathy.
Wrong.
Your fingers tightened around the back of his shirt.
Then a hand slowly slid out from beneath the bed.
You stopped breathing.
The fingernails were yours.
Same shape.
Same little imperfections.
Same chipped edge.
Then the other.
Two pale hands dragged themselves across the floor.
“Y/N…”
The voice sounded like you.
“You used to sleep with the hallway light on.”
Your stomach dropped.
Taeyang glanced back at you.
The thing continued.
“You still check the door twice before you sleep.”
You shook your head.
“No.”
“You cried in the bathroom when you thought nobody could hear you.”
Taeyang’s expression changed.
“Y/N…”
“It’s lying.”
The thing laughed.
“You don’t tell him everything.”
A face slowly pushed out from beneath the bed.
It was your face.
But stretched.
Smiling far too wide.
“I know what you don’t tell him.”
You backed away.
“Stop.”
“I know what you’re afraid of.”
The creature crawled farther out.
“I know what you think about when you’re alone.”
Your eyes filled with tears.
Taeyang grabbed your hand.
“Don’t listen.”
The creature’s smile widened.
“He doesn’t know you.”
You looked at Taeyang.
For half a second, doubt flickered.
The creature saw it.
“He isn’t real.”
Taeyang’s grip tightened.
“Y/N.”
“He’s wearing a face you trust.”
“No.”
“He’ll leave you here.”
You shook your head harder.
“No.”
The creature whispered one final thing—something so personal that your blood ran cold.
Taeyang didn’t know it.
He couldn’t.
But you refused to look at the thing again.
“You’re lying.”
The creature’s smile disappeared.
Taeyang suddenly grabbed you around the waist.
“RUN.”
You both bolted for the door.
Behind you, the creature screamed.
Not your voice anymore.
Not human.
The bedroom door slammed open and you raced into the hallway.
Behind you, something crawled out from underneath the bed.
Fast.
Far too fast.
Taeyang dragged you through the nearest doorway and slammed it behind you.
Silence.
Then you looked up.
Every wall was covered in antique mirrors.
“Oh, no,” you whispered.
Taeyang went pale. “The rules.”
Never look into the mirrors after midnight.
They’d broken it.
Their reflections stood perfectly still while they stumbled backward.
One reflection smiled.
Another began weeping black tears.
A third threw itself against the glass, mouth open in a silent, desperate scream.
You grabbed Taeyang’s arm.
Then you saw yourself.
Your reflection stood beside his.
Same clothes. Same face.
Except it had no eyes.
Two smooth hollows stared out from its face.
The eyeless you tilted its head toward Taeyang, then slowly reached for his throat.
“Don’t look at them,” Taeyang whispered, turning you toward him. “Look at me. Only me.”
You both tore a heavy curtain from a nearby window and began throwing it over the mirrors.
Behind the fabric, something pounded against the glass.
One by one, the reflections began speaking.
From the first mirror:
“He will leave you.”
You flinched.
From another:
“She will betray you.”
Taeyang’s hand tightened around yours.
“It’s trying to make us doubt each other.”
“I know,” you whispered, though your voice trembled.
They covered the final mirror.
For one breath, everything went quiet.
Then a whisper came from behind the curtain directly in front of you.
“You almost kissed him.”
Your face burned cold.
“You wanted him to kiss you.”
Taeyang heard it. You knew he did.
But he didn’t pull away.
Instead, he stepped closer and held your hand between both of his.
“Whatever it says about you,” he murmured, “you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
You looked at him, your heart aching in the middle of all that terror.
Then every mirror cracked at once.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
The curtains bulged outward as if something enormous were pressing against them from the other side.
Taeyang pulled you toward the door.
A shard of glass punched through the fabric and buried itself in the wooden floor.
Then another.
Then dozens.
From behind the curtains, you heard your own voice laughing.
And Taeyang’s reflection whispered, perfectly calm:
“Let them go. You can still save yourself.”
Taeyang didn’t even look back.
He pulled you into the hallway.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Behind them, the mirrors shattered.
And something wearing your face began screaming.
Taeyang turned around for one second.
You were gone.
His hand closed around empty air.
“Y/N?”
A scream erupted from somewhere below.
“TAEYANG!”
He ran.
He threw open the first door.
You hung from the ceiling, your feet twitching inches above the floor.
Your head snapped toward him.
“Help me!”
He slammed the door.
The next room was filled with black water. You thrashed beneath its surface, pounding soundlessly against an invisible barrier.
“NO!”
He slammed that door too.
The next you knelt on the floor, sobbing, your hands covered in blood.
“Please,” you begged. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”
Taeyang staggered backward.
Every door showed him another nightmare. You screaming. You choking. You reaching for him with fingers that bent the wrong way.
Each version wore your face.
Each one knew his name.
The house wasn’t showing him your death. It was trying to make him believe he was already too late.
“STOP!” he roared.
The walls shuddered.
Then, faintly—
“Taeyang!”
He froze.
That voice sounded different.
Terrified, breathless, unmistakably yours.
“TAEYANG, PLEASE!”
He sprinted toward it, ignoring the doors rattling open on either side.
“Y/N! Keep talking!”
“I’m here!”
He rounded a corner and found a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
At the bottom, someone began crying.
“Please come get me…”
Taeyang gripped the railing.
Then you whispered something only the real you would say.
His heart clenched as he ran down the stairs.
At the bottom stood a single white door.
Something on the other side scratched gently at the wood.
Taeyang reached for the handle.
A voice behind him whispered in your voice:
“If you open that door, she’ll die.”
He shut his eyes.
“I don’t believe you.”
He turned the handle.
From the darkness beyond, you screamed his name.
———
Taeyang burst through the door.
“Y/N!”
“TAEYANG!”
Your voice came from the far end of a basement lined with photographs.
Hundreds.
No—thousands.
They covered every inch of the walls, pinned over one another, their edges yellowed with age. Faces stared out from the frames: terrified families, young couples, children holding hands with people who weren’t looking at the camera.
Every photograph bore the same date.
OCTOBER 31.
Some were dated decades ago.
Others were dated just minutes earlier.
You stumbled backward as you examined them.
Then you saw one near the floor.
Your blood turned to ice.
It showed you and Taeyang standing outside Hollow Hill Manor, still beside their car.
You were smiling at him.
Taeyang was looking down at you.
Neither of you had arrived yet.
The timestamp beneath it read 7:42 P.M.
You checked your phone.
It was 12:17 A.M.
A sound escaped your throat.
“No. No, no, no…”
“Y/N!”
You spun around.
Taeyang came running down the stairs.
You threw yourself into his arms.
He caught you tightly, burying his face against your hair.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
You clutched his shirt. “I thought you weren’t real.”
“I heard you screaming. I kept opening doors, and every time—” His voice broke. “Every time, I saw you dying.”
You pulled back to look at him.
“They showed me things too.”
His forehead rested against yours.
“It’s trying to make us hate each other,” he whispered. “It’s trying to make us think we’re alone.”
You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“I’m here,” you whispered.
Taeyang brushed a tear from your face with his thumb.
“I’m here too.”
For a moment, neither moved.
Then your gaze drifted over his shoulder.
Your breath stopped.
A photograph hung directly behind him.
Taeyang stood alone in front of the mansion.
No you.
No car.
No other person anywhere in the frame.
His face was pale, his eyes empty.
And beneath the photograph, in fresh black ink, someone had written:
THE ONE WHO LEAVES ALWAYS SURVIVES.
You slowly stepped away from him.
Taeyang noticed.
“What is it?”
You pointed.
He turned.
The photograph began to change.
His painted expression twisted into terror.
He slammed both hands against the inside of the frame, mouth opening in a silent scream.
Then the glass cracked.
You grabbed Taeyang’s hand.
“Don’t look at it. Please.”
He turned back to you immediately.
You held his gaze.
The house had shown them death. Betrayal. Abandonment. It had worn their faces and used their most private fears as weapons.
It wanted them to question every touch, every promise, every moment of tenderness.
But Taeyang’s hand was warm around yours.
And when something behind the walls began whispering that you would be safer without him, you squeezed his fingers instead.
“I believe you,” you said.
His expression softened with something more vulnerable than relief.
“I believe you too.”
Behind them, every photograph turned toward the wall.
Every single one.
Except one.
You and Taeyang’s picture remained facing outward.
In it, the two of them were still standing beside their car.
Still smiling.
And now, behind them, visible through the mansion’s front window—
You were watching them arrive.
The photographed you lifted one finger to its lips.
Shhh.
Then the basement door slammed shut.
Every photograph on the walls began to tremble.
A whisper seeped from the ceiling.
Then the floor.
Then the photographs themselves.
“ONLY ONE MAY LEAVE.”
You felt Taeyang’s fingers tighten around yours.
“No,” you whispered.
The walls groaned.
“ONE LIFE FOR ONE LIFE.”
You turned to Taeyang. “I’ll stay.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Taeyang—”
“No.” His voice shook. “I’m not leaving you here.”
The photographs suddenly changed.
You saw Taeyang standing at the top of the basement stairs. The door was open behind him. Freedom waited beyond it.
You watched the vision-you crawled toward him, sobbing and reaching for his hand.
Taeyang looked down at you.
Then he stepped over your fingers and walked away.
The door slammed.
Your heart cracked.
“That’s not—”
“Y/N, don’t look!”
But Taeyang was staring at his own vision.
In it, you stood beside the open exit. You looked back at him, tears running down your face.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
Then you left him in the darkness.
The vision-Taeyang screamed your name until his voice became a wet, choking rasp.
Taeyang recoiled.
The walls erupted with laughter.
“THEY WILL CHOOSE THEMSELF.”
“HE WILL ABANDON YOU.”
You looked at Taeyang.
He looked at you.
For one terrible second, the house held its breath, waiting for doubt to take root.
You reached for his face.
“Hey. Look at me.”
He did.
“I would never leave you here.”
His eyes searched yours. “And I would never leave you.”
The whispers grew louder, furious.
You pressed your forehead against his.
“They can show us anything,” you whispered. “It doesn’t make it true.”
Taeyang wrapped his arms around you.
“And they can say anything,” he murmured. “It doesn’t change what I know about you.”
Something cracked behind them.
Every photograph now showed the same image: you and Taeyang standing apart, reaching desperately for each other while the darkness swallowed the space between them.
Then the house spoke again.
Not through the walls.
Not through the photographs.
Inside their heads.
If you love each other so much…
A seam appeared down the center of the basement floor.
It split open with a deafening crack.
Beneath it was an impossible depth, filled with pale hands grasping upward.
Prove it.
The floor began collapsing between them.
Taeyang seized your hand.
You seized his.
The gap widened.
Your fingers started slipping apart.
“DON’T LET GO!” he shouted.
“I’m not!”
The house screamed through every wall.
Your shoulder nearly tore from its socket as the floor dropped beneath you. Taeyang fell to his knees, gripping your wrist with both hands.
For a moment, you dangled over the darkness.
Then you looked up at him.
He was crying.
Not from fear for himself.
For you.
“Y/N,” he whispered, “I can’t lose you.”
Your heart ached even as the hands below reached for your ankles.
“You won’t.”
And together, they pulled.
The house had spent centuries teaching its victims to distrust the people they loved.
It had never learned what to do when two people refused.
The floor stopped collapsing.
The hands withdrew.
Silence fell.
Then, somewhere in the darkness beneath your feet, a child began to cry.
A familiar voice whispered from below.
“If you won’t choose who stays…”
A pause.
“…I’ll choose for you.”
———
A door appeared at the far end of the basement.
Real wood. A brass handle. Moonlight spilling beneath it.
An exit.
You ran first.
“Taeyang! Come on!”
He scrambled after you, stumbling over the uneven floor. You reached the door and slipped through.
He followed—then stopped.
You stood in a moonlit hallway, wearing a white dress he had never seen before.
You smiled.
Too widely.
Your eyes didn’t blink.
“Come on,” you said sweetly. “We’re safe now.”
Taeyang’s blood turned cold.
Rule #6. Never trust anyone wearing white.
He remembered the words on the wall. The handwriting that looked like yours. The house learning their faces, their voices, their secrets.
He didn’t move.
The thing wearing you tilted its head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Y/N wouldn’t wear that.”
Its smile stretched farther.
“You don’t know what I’d wear?”
“Not like that.”
For a moment, its face seemed to slip—like a mask sliding over wet skin. Beneath it, something pale and eyeless wriggled against the shape of its cheeks.
Then the smile returned.
“Taeyang,” it whispered. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”
His throat tightened.
It had your voice perfectly.
It even reached out with your familiar, trembling hand.
“Please. I’m scared.”
He almost stepped forward.
Almost.
Then, from somewhere behind him, a scream ripped through the basement.
“TAEYANG! DON’T LET IT OUT!”
The thing in white went utterly still.
For the first time, its smile disappeared.
From behind him, the real you screamed again.
“THAT ISN’T ME!”
Taeyang backed away from the doorway.
The thing’s face twitched.
“You’re making a mistake,” it said.
Its voice was no longer yours.
It was a chorus of voices, layered over one another—men, women, children, all whispering through the same mouth.
“You’ll leave them to die.”
Taeyang turned toward your screams.
The thing lunged and he slammed the door in its face.
Something struck the other side so hard the wood buckled inward.
Taeyang ran toward the real you’s voice.
Behind him, the door began to splinter.
And through the widening crack, something whispered in his own voice:
“Now you’ve left them behind.”
“TAEYANG!”
He tore down the corridor toward your voice.
He found you trapped behind a rusted iron gate, pounding against the bars. The moment you saw him, your face crumpled with relief.
He grabbed you through the bars.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
He forced the gate open just as something shrieked behind them.
The creature stood at the end of the hallway wearing your face.
Then its jaw unhinged.
Its cheeks split into a grin far too wide for a human skull, and its limbs began lengthening with horrible, cracking pops.
You stumbled backward.
Taeyang stepped in front of you.
“Run when I tell you.”
The creature rushed them.
“NOW!”
They bolted.
It chased them on all fours, its joints bending backward as it scuttled along the ceiling. Halfway down the corridor, its body convulsed.
Its skin peeled away like wet paper.
Beneath your face was Taeyang’s.
Then yours again.
Then a stranger’s face, mouth packed with tiny, twitching teeth.
“Y/N!” it screamed in Taeyang’s voice.
You flinched.
“TAEYANG!” it shrieked in yours.
He grabbed your hand and pulled you around a corner just as a claw tore through the wall beside them.
They burst into a grand staircase. The mansion shuddered. Plaster rained from the ceiling, and the steps buckled beneath their feet.
Taeyang shoved you ahead of him as a beam crashed down.
It struck his shoulder.
He stumbled, catching himself against the railing.
“Taeyang!”
“Keep moving!”
You saw the blood soaking through his sleeve.
“You’re hurt!”
“Y/N, please!”
He pushed you forward again.
Behind them, the creature descended the staircase without using the steps. Its elongated fingers dug into the walls, dragging its body downward while every stolen face screamed their names.
You stopped.
“I’m not leaving you!”
Taeyang looked at her, pain written across his face.
For one breath, amid the collapsing house, he looked less like someone trying to save you and more like someone terrified that he might never get the chance to tell you what you meant to him.
Then he took your hand.
“Then stay with me.”
They ran together.
The hallway split apart ahead of them. Doors burst open, revealing darkness, teeth, and rooms that shouldn’t have existed.
The creature’s voice followed from every direction.
“Y/N, help me!”
“Taeyang, don’t leave me!”
“PLEASE!”
They kept running.
You squeezed his hand so tightly it hurt.
He squeezed back.
Neither answered the voices.
Neither let go.
Then the creature spoke in a voice you had never heard it use before.
A perfect imitation of Taeyang, soft and trembling.
“Y/N… I think I’m dying.”
Taeyang stopped dead.
You felt his fingers loosen.
And somewhere ahead, in the darkness, something began to cough up blood.
Taeyang didn’t look back.
He pulled you around the final corner, and there it was—the front door.
Open.
Beyond it, the forest waited beneath a bruised, predawn sky.
“GO!” he shouted.
You sprinted outside, stumbling onto the cold stone steps. You spun around just as Taeyang reached the threshold.
Something shot out of the darkness.
A hand clamped around his ankle.
Taeyang hit the floor with a scream.
“TAEYANG!”
The creature dragged him backward. Its fingers sank into his skin as its body unfolded from the hallway, impossibly long and slick with blood.
You dropped to your knees and seized both his hands.
“Hold on to me!”
He gripped you so tightly their fingers hurt.
The creature pulled harder.
You slid across the stone.
“Let go!” Taeyang shouted. “Y/N, LET GO!”
“No!”
“It’ll take you too!”
“I DON’T CARE!”
You dug your heels into the steps and pulled with everything you had. Taeyang’s face twisted with pain as the creature dragged him inch by inch toward its gaping mouth.
You sobbed, refusing to loosen your grip.
“I’m not leaving you! Do you hear me? I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!”
For one terrible second, their hands began slipping apart.
Then Taeyang reached up and caught your wrist.
Together, they pulled.
Something in the creature’s arm snapped.
It shrieked in a hundred voices and released him.
You fell backward, dragging Taeyang across the threshold.
They tumbled onto the gravel just as the first thin blade of sunlight broke through the trees.
Behind them, the front door slammed shut.
Then the entire mansion shuddered.
Every window went black.
Then—silence.
No screaming.
No scratching.
No whispers.
Hollow Hill Manor stood motionless beneath the pale morning sky, its dead vines hanging limp against the stone.
You couldn’t move.
Taeyang lay beside you, breathing in short, painful gasps. Blood soaked his sleeve, and his ankle was raw where the creature had gripped him.
You crawled to him and wrapped both arms around his shoulders.
“You’re here,” you whispered, crying into his shirt. “You’re really here.”
His uninjured arm closed around you.
“I’m here.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
“I thought you were going to die.”
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
His forehead rested against yours.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he lifted a trembling hand and brushed the tears from your cheek.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispered.
You nodded.
“When I thought I was going to die in there… the only thing I could think about was that I never got to kiss you.”
Your heart stumbled.
Despite everything, a small, disbelieving laugh escaped you.
“Then don’t die before you get the chance.”
His eyes softened.
He leaned closer—and you met him halfway.
Their lips touched, gently at first, trembling with exhaustion and relief. It wasn’t a perfect kiss. They were both shaking. You could taste the salt from your tears, and he winced when you accidentally brushed his injured shoulder.
But when you pulled apart, Taeyang kept his forehead against yours.
For the first time all night, you felt safe enough to breathe.
Behind them, Hollow Hill Manor remained silent.
Then the sun rose a little higher.
And somewhere deep inside the house, a clock began ticking again.
12:01.
The first police car arrived at 6:14 a.m.
You were wrapped in Taeyang’s jacket, curled against him on the gravel. When the officers approached, you tried to explain—but every sentence sounded impossible.
The mansion. The party. The photographs. The thing wearing your face.
The officers exchanged looks.
They searched the property.
Then searched it again.
No candles. No footprints leading to the entrance. No evidence of a party.
No masks. No photographs. No blood on the floors.
One officer returned, frowning.
“There’s nobody inside. The building’s been abandoned for decades.”
You stared at him.
“But we were in there.”
He glanced at Taeyang’s bloodied sleeve, then at your trembling hands.
“Let’s get you both somewhere safe.”
Neither argued.
They left together.
In the car, you sat beside Taeyang, your fingers laced through his. Exhaustion finally overcame you. You leaned against his shoulder and fell asleep.
Taeyang didn’t move.
He watched you breathe, occasionally brushing the hair from your face. Every few minutes, his eyes drifted to the rearview mirror.
Nothing followed them.
The road was empty.
The sun warmed the dashboard.
For the first time since Halloween night began, he allowed himself to believe they had escaped.
He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“It’s over,” he whispered.
You stirred but didn’t wake.
Then, sometime later, you opened your eyes.
The car was quiet. Taeyang was looking out the window, his injured arm resting carefully against his side.
You lifted your head.
Something was wrong with the glass beside you.
Condensation covered the window, although the air inside the car wasn’t cold.
Letters slowly appeared in the mist.
As if an invisible finger were writing from the other side.
You sat upright.
“Taeyang?”
He turned.
Neither of them breathed.
The words finished forming.
YOU LEFT SOMEONE BEHIND.
Taeyang immediately reached for your hand.
“No,” he whispered. “We got everyone we could.”
You stared at the window.
“Who is it talking about?”
A drop of condensation trickled down the glass, cutting through the final word.
Then another line appeared beneath it.
COUNT AGAIN.
Your stomach lurched.
You looked at Taeyang.
He looked at you.
And from the locked trunk of the car—
something knocked three times.
Neither you nor Taeyang moved.
“Tell me you heard that,” you whispered.
“I heard it.”
“Okay. Good. Because if I’m hallucinating, I’d really rather not do it alone.”
Despite everything, Taeyang let out a small, exhausted laugh. He reached across the center console and took your hand.
“Let’s go home.”
Neither of them looked at the trunk again.
⸻
Home felt impossibly ordinary.
The same familiar walls. The same furniture. The same little imperfections that had never mattered before tonight.
You stood beneath the shower until the hot water ran cold, scrubbing at the grime beneath your fingernails. You kept expecting the water to turn black. Kept expecting something to whisper through the drain.
Nothing happened.
When you finally emerged, wrapped in comfortable clothes, Taeyang was in the kitchen making food.
He looked up at you.
For a second, neither spoke.
Then he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.
You buried your face against his chest.
“You’re real, right?” you murmured.
His arms tightened around you.
“I think so.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of your head. “I’m sorry.”
They ate at the kitchen table, barely touching their food. Eventually, the silence became heavier than the memories.
You stared at your hands.
“When I thought you weren’t real,” you said quietly, “I was so scared.”
Taeyang set his fork down.
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
You looked up.
“I kept seeing you die. Over and over. And every time, I couldn’t get to you.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve never been that afraid in my life.”
You reached for his hand across the table.
“I didn’t want to leave without you.”
“I know.”
“No, Taeyang.” Your eyes filled. “I mean, when I thought I could escape and you might not make it… I couldn’t imagine going home without you. Even if it meant I died there.”
His expression crumpled.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
He stood, walked around the table, and knelt beside your chair.
“I don’t want a world where you aren’t in it,” he whispered.
You brushed your thumb over his cheek.
“Then stay in mine.”
He leaned into your touch.
And when he kissed you, it was gentle at first—almost uncertain. Like you were both afraid that even this might be another cruel trick.
But you pulled him closer.
His hand settled against your cheek. Your fingers curled into his shirt. The kiss deepened, full of everything they’d been too terrified to say inside that house.
For the first time all night, you weren’t thinking about running.
You were thinking about him.
And Taeyang was thinking about you.
For a moment, everything was beautiful.
Then the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
You froze against him.
“Taeyang?”
“I’m here.”
Three knocks sounded from the front door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Taeyang slowly turned toward the hallway.
You grabbed his hand.
Neither moved.
A voice came from the other side of the door.
Your voice.
“Taeyang… let me in.”
His fingers went rigid around yours.
He turned to look at you.
You were standing right beside him.
Your face had gone white. You shook your head frantically, pressing closer to him.
From upstairs came another voice.
Taeyang’s voice.
“Y/N… don’t trust him.”
The sound drifted down the staircase, soft and frightened.
Exactly like him.
You stared at the darkness above them.
Then you looked at the boy holding your hand.
His face was barely visible, but you could feel him trembling.
The house had followed them home.
Or perhaps—
It had never let them leave.
You squeezed his hand so tightly it hurt.
And whispered:
“Run.”