[Location: The country where Sarah, Mina, and Rio are on vacation]
The taxi moved smoothly along the road, its engine humming softly. The sky was dark, yet bright with moonlight, casting a calm glow over the quiet city. Cool air drifted in through the slightly open windows, the atmosphere almost feeling like a gentle blessing.
Inside the taxi, Sarah and Mina sat in the back seat, surrounded by dozens of bags filled with items they had bought at the festival. Mina had already fallen asleep, her head resting on Sarah's lap, her breathing slow and peaceful.
In the front seat, Rio struggled to stay awake. His head tilted forward slightly, exhaustion weighing him down, his vision blurred as his breath grew steady and slow.
Sarah sat quietly, focused on her phone, the soft light reflecting in her eyes.
The taxi driver kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead, navigating through the steady flow of vehicles as the city slept on.
After a few more minutes of travel, the taxi finally came to a stop. The soft hum of the engine faded as it shut off. The vehicle had stopped right in front of a grand inn.
The inn glowed warmly under traditional yellow lights, its structure calm and welcoming. Two guards stood at the main gate, unmoving.
Sarah turned off her phone and slipped it into her pocket. She gently nudged Mina.
"Hey, Mina, wake up. We've reached the destination."
Mina's eyes opened slowly as her vision cleared. She rubbed her eyes and let out a big yawn.
"Did we reach the inn?" she asked sleepily.
At the front, the driver leaned slightly toward Rio.
"Hey, sir, wake up. You've reached your destination… sir, wake up."
"Aaahhh!"
Rio jolted awake, shouting as if pulled from a bad dream, shattering the quiet exhaustion in the car. He breathed heavily for a moment.
"Huf… huf… is everyone okay here?" he asked anxiously.
The driver replied calmly,
"Everything is fine, sir. You probably had a bad dream."
They stepped out of the taxi. Mina still wore a small grin, though exhaustion was clear on her face. Rio continued rubbing his eyes, looking like he might fall asleep on the road if someone didn't hold him.
Sarah paid the driver. The engine started again, and the taxi slowly pulled away, disappearing into the distance.
They went inside the inn. The interior was decorated with warm lights and historical artworks lining the walls, old frames and carvings carrying a quiet elegance. The warmth inside contrasted deeply with the cold atmosphere outside, wrapping around them like a soft blanket.
A staff member of the inn approached them with a gentle smile and a welcoming tone.
"Welcome to our inn. How can I help you all?"
Sarah replied,
"Can we get two rooms?"
"Yes, of course. We have rooms available," the staff member said politely.
Rio stood beside them, holding the bags, though he could barely hold himself upright. His eyes kept shutting, exhaustion weighing heavily on him, yet he somehow managed to remain standing. Mina wandered a little, her gaze lingering on the paintings, curiosity briefly overpowering her tiredness.
They moved to the counter, collected the room keys, and began climbing the stairs. After a couple of slow steps, they finally reached their allotted rooms. Sarah took out the keys and unlocked the door. The room inside was dark and quiet.
She reached for the switchboard and turned on the lights. The soft glow filled the room instantly. Mina immediately ran toward the bed, and the moment she reached it, she collapsed onto it and fell asleep.
Meanwhile, Rio opened his door and stepped inside, pulling it shut behind him with a dull click. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow seeping in from the corridor through the cracks beneath the door. The silence inside felt thick, broken only by his slow, uneven breathing.
He took a few unsteady steps forward, the bags slipping from his hands and hitting the floor with a soft thud. His legs finally gave in. Exhaustion overpowered his will, and he collapsed onto the cold wooden floor. The chill seeped through his clothes, but he didn't react. His body felt unbearably heavy, muscles aching, eyelids burning.
The scent of polished wood and faint incense filled the room as his breathing gradually steadied. Curled slightly on the floor, one arm tucked beneath him, Rio fell asleep right there, drained to the point where even the comfort of the bed a few steps away no longer mattered.
Inside an apartment room, bright lights washed over the space as the TV played a weather report. In front of it lay a young woman, no older than twenty-four. She wore shorts and a white shirt, a bowl of snacks resting on her stomach as she lazily watched the screen. Outside, rain poured relentlessly, droplets tapping against the windows and metal railings, creating a constant, restless background noise.
Suddenly—
Thud!
BAMM!
DADUMM!
Heavy, violent sounds shook the air above her.
She frowned and looked up at the ceiling, irritation tightening her face.
"This weirdo Hikaru… why is he making so much noise?" she thought.
With an annoyed sigh, she stood up, her movements sharp and impatient, and opened the door. The cold, damp air from the stairwell brushed against her skin as she started climbing the stairs. Her mood was already sour—she disliked Hikaru deeply and never missed a chance to mock or discourage him. Each step echoed with her irritation, her jaw clenched, brows furrowed.
After a few more steps, she reached the fourth floor.
She slammed the door open and shouted,
"Hey, what's your problem? Can't yo—"
Her words died in her throat.
What she saw was pure horror to any normal person.
Her eyes widened as if they might tear, blood draining from her face in an instant. The metallic stench of blood hit her nose, thick and suffocating. Her legs gave way, trembling violently, and she collapsed onto the corridor floor. Her whole body shook, disbelief freezing her mind.
Hikaru stood near a table.
The floor was pooled with blood, warm and dark, spreading unevenly across the tiles. Dead bodies lay scattered around the room, motionless, twisted at unnatural angles. Hikaru's clothes were soaked, heavy with blood, droplets still sliding down his arms and dripping onto the floor with soft, sickening taps.
The room felt unbearably warm—not from the atmosphere, but from the blood itself. The air was thick, sticky, and reeked of iron. Rain continued to patter faintly outside, a cruel contrast to the silence inside.
She stared, unable to scream, unable to move—her breath shallow, heart pounding wildly—as the reality of the scene crushed down on her.