The wall clock in the bedroom showed 10:03 PM. The yellowish nightlight cast long shadows of furniture against the walls, creating the warm atmosphere typical of that small family home every night. The room wasn't very large, but it was enough for four small beds lined up neatly.
A young mother stood at the doorway. She was about thirty-five years old, her hair still slightly damp from a late-night shower. She watched her four children, who were still awake, and smiled softly seeing them chatting away.
The second child sat up straight as soon as he saw his mother enter. With energy still lingering from a long day at school, he began recounting an event he found incredibly shocking. At school earlier, a fifth-grader had been scolded by a teacher for accidentally breaking a trophy display case while playing soccer in the corridor. The mother listened while chuckling, enjoying how her son described the incident with such detail and expression.
Before the story could finish, the third child chimed in with a lighter tale about a senior who said she was cute. The mother responded with a warm, slightly teasing smile, making the child laugh shyly and hide her face behind a pillow.
The room was filled with family warmth, but when the mother looked toward the bed at the far end, the atmosphere shifted slightly. Her youngest child lay with his back turned to them all. He didn't laugh; he didn't share stories. He was just silent.
The mother walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, calling him softly and asking how his day at school had been. There was no answer. As her hand reached out to touch his forehead to check for a fever, her wrist was suddenly caught in a swift grip by the child's small hand. The movement was far too fast for a child his age.
"I'm fine, Mom," he said in a flat tone. "School was just normal."
The mother was momentarily startled but composed herself. She tried to smile as if nothing were wrong. She kissed her son's forehead and told him that when the sun sets, all problems sink away with it. Tomorrow would bring a new day, and everything would feel lighter. The boy finally gave a small smile and nodded, falling asleep shortly after.
After ensuring everyone was settled, the mother kissed the other children and left the room. In the living room, her two eldest children were still watching television. The glow of the screen illuminated the semi-dark room. She asked casually if they weren't sleepy yet and questioned the second child about whether anything had happened to the youngest at school, but he simply shook his head, noting they were in different buildings.
Back in her room, she collapsed onto the bed and checked her phone. Several WhatsApp messages from her husband appeared on the screen. He was currently abroad with his younger brother, working on a research project related to chemical technology and medicine for the Ministry of Research.
Her phone rang shortly after. She answered and began talking about the children's daily lives, including the youngest who seemed particularly exhausted today. Their conversation was relaxed until, suddenly, the sound of footsteps running quickly up the stairs echoed through the house.
The bedroom door burst open. Her eldest child stood there, breathless and panicked, saying the youngest had suddenly started screaming. The mother bolted from the bed. As she rushed down the stairs, something pushed her from behind. She lost her balance and tumbled down to the living room floor. Her head struck the ground hard, and a thin trail of blood began to flow from her temple.
The other children froze in place. One of them witnessed something impossible: the shadow of the youngest sibling seemed to stand at the top of the stairs, yet at the same time, his screams were coming from below. Seconds later, the sound of cracking bones echoed from the bedroom. The youngest's crying stopped abruptly, replaced by a suffocating silence.
From the room, something crawled out—not through the door, but across the ceiling. The small body moved like a spider, joints twisted in unnatural directions. Its head hung upside down, hair dangling toward the floor. The children could only stare with pale faces. The creature was their brother, yet it was no longer him.
It crawled slowly across the living room ceiling, stopping directly above their unconscious mother. Its head turned slowly, staring down with vacant eyes. Its mouth opened far too wide, as if something else were controlling the small body. In one sudden motion, the creature dropped from the ceiling to pounce.
A small roadside coffee shop was nearly closing for the night. Dim, warm lights remained on in the half-empty room. A young man sat casually by the window, sipping an iced Americano. His navy blue shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing a strange symbol tattooed near his left wrist.
He was scrolling through his phone when a barista arrived with the bill and an EDC machine. The young man reached into his pocket for his wallet, but his face fell as he realized he had left it behind. He asked if he could pay via QRIS, but the barista explained their digital payment system was down. Awkwardly, he offered to go to a nearby ATM, but the barista requested an ID card as collateral. The young man chuckled—his ID was in the forgotten wallet, too.
Just as the situation became embarrassing, another man stepped up and tapped his credit card, paying for the drink without a word.
The young man smiled. "Forgot your wallet again, Ed?" the man teased.
Edward shrugged. "Thanks for being my guardian angel, my policeman friend."
The man, Satya—a police detective who had worked with Edward on several "unusual" cases—sat down with a serious expression. Edward opened a small bag and pulled out a deck of seventy-two tarot cards, spreading them across the table. After a few seconds, one card began to emit a faint red glow.
Edward stared at the card for a long moment before sighing heavily. "That fat devil's lackey again," he muttered.
Satya noted that the crime scene was about twenty-five minutes away. Edward calmly finished his coffee, packed his cards, and stood up. They walked out to the car parked by the road. The city night seemed peaceful, but somewhere not far away, a house was still filled with screams that had yet to stop.