It was almost 1 a.m., and Jenny's peaceful sleep was shattered by a loud bang at the lodge door. Her heart jumped into her throat. Her mind raced — the rumors her friend had whispered about break-ins suddenly felt very real. Not again, she thought.
She quickly remembered the small vial she had prepared weeks ago — a homemade foam mixture that could scare intruders. Her hands shook as she grabbed it, hiding her phone under the pillow. She crouched behind her bed, every creak of the floorboards making her flinch.
Then, the door broke open with a heavy kick. A tall, imposing figure entered first. Jenny froze. He moved with a confidence that sent a shiver down her spine.
It was Phillip, the head of the gang terrorizing the lodge. She had heard his name whispered in fear, tales of his ruthlessness spreading through the hostel. Yet, here he was, calm, controlled, and utterly fearless.
He leaned down near her, his voice low and teasing.
"You done… or should I pour the real liquid into your mouth so you die for real?"
Jenny swallowed, holding back a scream. She forced herself to sit up, clutching the vial. Her legs felt like jelly.
Phillip glanced at the rest of the room, then waved his hand.
"Go join the others. Rob the other rooms," he said.
Jenny exhaled slowly, her body trembling. She could hear the faint sounds of the other rooms being ransacked — screams, objects thrown, hurried footsteps. She pressed her hands to her face, terrified yet oddly fascinated.
Phillip walked around her room, eyes scanning for valuables. He stopped at the small pack of noodles on her shelf.
"Really," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, "just one pack of noodles?"
Jenny stammered. "Y-Yes… that's all I have. I'm broke… my dad hasn't sent me anything yet."
Phillip mocked her words, almost laughing. "Come, make this last noodles for me. I need to eat."
"But it's the last one! You can check my bank balance — I have nothing!"
Phillip's smirk widened. "Get up now," he ordered, pointing a gun at her. Her stomach lurched, but she obeyed, rushing to the small stove.
As she cooked, Phillip leaned against the wall, watching her every move.
"Are you a Christian?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes," Jenny replied cautiously.
"Do you know the parable of the woman who gave her last food to the prophet and was later rewarded?"
"Yes," she murmured, unsure why he was asking.
Phillip's grin grew. "Then I will be your prophet tonight," he said in a singsong, teasing tone.
Jenny froze, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Minutes passed. She placed the steaming noodles on a plate, her hands trembling.
Phillip picked it up, slurped a bite, and hummed approvingly.
"Not bad," he said. "For someone I almost killed."
Jenny blinked, taken aback. "You almost—"
"I like keeping you on your toes," he interrupted, voice playful yet dangerous.
Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and something she didn't understand. Her mind raced, trying to process this strange man who had just robbed her and teased her in the same breath.
Phillip stood, stretching lazily. "I'll be back tomorrow," he said casually. "Make something new for me. No… make me yam and egg sauce."
Jenny's heart sank. "Why do you want to come back?" she whispered.
Phillip paused, looking at her with a faint, almost mischievous smile. "Maybe I like seeing you… or maybe I'm just curious."
Before leaving, he handed her some cash and a small note. Jenny opened it, recognizing the messy handwriting:
"You made noodles today, but I hope tomorrow tastes better.
– Your prophet"
Jenny stared at it, half-exasperated, half-amused. She had no idea what kind of man Phillip was — part criminal, part playful tormentor — but somehow, she already found herself anticipating his next visit.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Jenny sank onto her bed, her heart pounding. Her hands shook again, but this time it wasn't just fear. It was a strange mixture of curiosity, confusion, and something dangerous she didn't want to admit — a flutter of intrigue she couldn't ignore.
Outside, the lodge was silent once more, but Jenny could feel Phillip's presence lingering, like a shadow that refused to leave. She stared at the ceiling, thinking of the smirk on his face, the teasing tone of his voice, the note in her hand.
Who is he really? she wondered. And more importantly, why do I feel like I want to see him again?
Jenny didn't know it yet, but that night — a night of fear, noodles, and strange teasing — would be the beginning of a story that would change everything.