After eating, we cleaned the kitchen without saying a word, all of us exhausted despite having done nothing.
Even though we were still complete strangers, we helped each other with the chores—Kenta and Haruto wiped down the countertops, while me, Sakura, and Mei washed all the dishes and pots. The others took care of the rest. Well, everyone except Takeshi, who was busy lounging on the couch. «Ugh, what a guy,» I thought.
Once we finished, we all gathered in the living room and threw some blankets on the floor to sit on, almost like a sleepover.
We started talking again—about our lives, favorite movies or shows, music, what we ate for breakfast, those tiny habits that made us feel real.
«Every morning, my grandma would leave a little sweet on the shelf for me before leaving for work,» Mei said in a quiet voice.
«I ate bread and eggs every single day, always on the same blue plate,» Haruto shared.
We laughed softly.
Then, suddenly, the huge clock in the living room struck a sharp note.
**DONG.**
A long, metallic sound echoed through the entire house.
We all froze.
«What... the hell was that?» I murmured.
«It was the clock,» Rin answered, staring at it. «But it's... different from usual.»
«It sounds like... a funeral bell,» Sakura added.
«Fuck, that's creepy,» Yuki whispered.
The sound stopped. But the tension it brought lingered on the walls, as if watching us.
Sakura stood up slowly, stretching her arms. «I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted. Goodnight, guys!»
«Goodnight, Sakura.»
She climbed the stairs calmly, but moments later, we heard her running back down, nearly tripping.
«Guys! Help! My door won't open!»
«What do you mean it won't open?» Rin said, raising an eyebrow.
«I don't know, it's like it's locked from the inside!» Sakura insisted.
«What the hell?» Yuki muttered.
We all jumped up. Without even looking at each other, we rushed up the stairs one after another.
Haruto and Takeshi were the first to reach Sakura's room, trying to force the door open.
«It's stuck,» Takeshi said, shoving it with his shoulder. «It won't budge an inch.»
«Let me try,» Haruto said, but he had no luck either.
Daiki approached his own door and turned the knob—his wouldn't open either.
«Guys! Mine's locked too.»
A heavy silence settled over us.
«This has to be part of the experiment,» Haruto muttered. «They want to see how we react. Stress testing, that kind of thing...»
Takeshi scoffed but said nothing. Then he started scanning the room with sharp eyes, as if searching for a hidden camera. He pressed his hands against the wall.
«Having fun, huh?» he yelled. «Enjoying the show, you bastards?! Open this damn door right now or I'll kick it down!»
«Takeshi!» Yuki snapped, exasperated. «Calm down, that's not how we solve this!»
«Then tell me how we do!» he growled. «Since you love butting in so much.»
One by one, every door turned out to be locked.
Except one.
«Oh shit, mine opened,» Kenta said, turning to us. No excitement in his voice—just surprise.
Without a word, he stepped inside.
I don't know why I followed him so quickly. Instinct, maybe. But I crossed the threshold right after him.
Sakura came in behind me. Haruto did the same, and Takeshi brought up the rear.
The moment Takeshi stepped through, the door slammed shut behind us with a violent **thud**, making us all jump.
We spun around.
«What the fuck?!» Takeshi shouted.
We rushed to the door, trying to force it open. Haruto shoved it with his shoulder. Nothing.
«Hey!» I yelled. «Hey, can you hear us?!»
Silence.
Then we noticed an envelope—an elegant one, sealed with red wax. It sat right in the middle of the room, placed neatly on the floor.
We approached. Kenta bent down, picked it up, and opened it. Inside, there was no writing. Just a sketch, drawn in pen: a wardrobe.
We all stared at it. Then, with a chill, we turned toward the real wardrobe against the wall—motionless.
Sakura stepped forward and, with a trembling hand, pulled the doors open.
A hallway stretched out before us.
«That wasn't there before,» Kenta said, his voice strained.
We stepped inside one by one, cautiously. The hallway opened up like the throat of a silent creature, the air still and cold, carrying only a constant hum—like the breath of some invisible machine. Industrial fans, maybe. Hidden behind the walls. It felt more like an underground bunker than a secret room.
The walls were narrow, lined with dark, polished wood. We walked single file, every step muffled against the tatami floor, making the atmosphere even more surreal.
«Doesn't it feel... too quiet?» Sakura murmured, hugging herself.
«That's exactly the problem,» Haruto replied, eyes fixed ahead. «In here, every silence feels like an omen.»
Takeshi was in front of me. He glanced back with a half-smirk. «If they're leading us to a torture chamber, let me handle it. I'll kill every last one of them.»
«What?» Sakura said, alarmed.
Kenta, behind him, scoffed. «Come on, Takeshi, cut it out. It's not funny.»
«Let's hope nothing dangerous happens,» I muttered, more to myself than to them. No one replied.
The hallway seemed to stretch longer with every step, as if trying to keep us trapped. The hum of the fans grew louder, and at every turn, we expected something—a figure, a voice, some new madness to face.
«I swear, if this just leads to a dead end, I'm gonna be pissed,» Sakura grumbled.
«I'd rather find an exit,» Kenta said flatly.
My heart pounded. Not just because of what we might find, but because of what this house was turning us into. The deeper we went, the tighter something inside me coiled, like a rope about to snap.
We walked further in silence, holding our breath, until we reached the end of the hallway. Another closed door stood before us—similar to the others, but the wood looked darker, almost charred, as if it had absorbed something that should never have existed.
We stopped. We exchanged glances.
«Oh hell no... I'm not going in there,» Takeshi said, low but firm.
I turned to him. I felt the same ice in my gut, but something pushed me forward. Maybe fear of staying still.
«What if it's the only way out of this room?» Haruto said.
The silence grew thicker. No one moved. I hesitated too. But then, as if part of me was tired of being afraid, I took a step forward.
«Whatever... it is what it is. I'll try.»
I slid the wooden door open. The sharp screech of the tracks reverberated in my bones.
Inside was just a mirror.
A simple, enormous square mirror leaning against the far wall. The room was empty, silent, frozen.
I took a step.
Behind me, I felt the others' presence. They were there, inches from the threshold. I could sense them, hear their breathing. But in the mirror... they weren't there.
Only me.
I stared.
And it wasn't me.
At least, not the me I knew. The reflection had my face, but twisted, disfigured. Dark circles under bloodshot eyes, swollen skin, split lips. I looked like I'd been in a fight. Like I'd survived something that had only left me half-alive.
Nausea hit me. I looked away immediately.
«No,» I whispered. «This is messed up.»
I slammed the door shut, as if trying to trap that image inside, far away from me.
I turned to the others. «There's nothing past that room. We can't go forward... we have to turn back.»
We retraced our steps through the hallway. Our footsteps were the same, but faster now, more frantic, as if the house itself was pushing us away. No one spoke. Only the hum of the fans followed us.
Sakura grabbed my arm. Gently, but the touch made me flinch.
«Aiko... what did you see in there?»
I looked at her. I couldn't lie. My hands were shaking. The words came out broken.
«It was... my reflection. But it wasn't me. I was bruised, scratched up... like I'd been fighting something. And... you guys weren't there. I was completely alone. I couldn't look for more than a second.»
She didn't reply. Just let go of my arm softly.
We reached the wardrobe again. One by one, we stepped out, slowly. The silence had hollowed us out.
Back in Kenta's room, everything was the same. But the tension in the air was different—heavier.
Takeshi walked to the door. «Let me try again.»
He pushed. Nothing. Then Haruto joined him, and together, they forced it.
A **click**. A small metallic sound.
The door opened.
We stared in disbelief.
«How is this possible?» Haruto murmured.
Sakura ran out to the others, who were still sitting on the floor. «Guys!»
«Finally!» Mei burst out. «Do you have any idea how much we screamed?!»
«We tried banging on the door, but nothing happened!» Daiki added.
«Are you all okay? We tried calling, but you didn't answer!»
«It was like you couldn't hear us,» Yuki said, standing up.
We all gathered in the hallway. Words spilled out—everyone sharing their version, their unease. Voices overlapped, frayed by tension and fear.
«Maybe it was a test. Maybe the goal was to look into that mirror,» Haruto said.
«Or maybe it was just another way to mess with our heads,» Takeshi shot back, grim.
«Either way, I'm not sleeping in there,» Kenta muttered.
«Aww, poor Kenta,» Takeshi mocked. «You want my futon, princess?»
Kenta glared.
«Go to hell.»
Then he walked into his room and shut the door without another word.
«Well,» Sakura sighed. «That was a shitty night. Let's just sleep it off.»
«It's late,» Haruto said. «We'll figure it out tomorrow.»
«Right. Goodnight,» I said, though the word felt hollow.
One by one, we retreated to our rooms in silence.
But none of us truly slept that night.
I was exhausted. Yet somewhere inside me, a voice kept asking:
What was this house trying to tell us?