Now Ahaan sat on the floor, staring at the broken mirror.
His hands shook.
Not from fear… but from what he saw before he returned.
When the Fake Ahaan vanished, it didn't just scream.
It laughed.
Like it had already done something.
Left something behind.
The book on his bed glowed again.
But this time, it didn't flip to a case.
It simply said:
"He opened the door."
Ahaan's chest tightened.
"What door?" he whispered.
The answer came immediately.
The one behind the wall.
In the orphanage.
The one sealed in blood.
His heart dropped.
In Chapter 21, when Ahaan found the old photo of the orphanage, there had been a door in the background—small, rusted shut, scratched with claw marks.
Ahaan had ignored it back then.
But the Fake Ahaan didn't.
While wearing Ahaan's body… he went back.
And opened it.
That night, strange things began happening in the house.
His uncle forgot his own name for a few minutes.
Ahaan's reflection came back—but now it blinked slower, like it was watching him from far away.
His phone screen glitched and showed:
"Welcome, Hollow One."
Even the clocks froze at 3:33 AM.
Every night.
Same time.
Something was stuck in time… waiting.
Ahaan returned to the journal.
Pages were stuck together, like dried blood.
He peeled one apart.
Inside, written in shaking handwriting:
"Once the door opens, time leaks.
The living and the dead become neighbors.
And the Hollow Ones wake up."
He turned to the next page.
Drawn in red ink was a tall, thin figure with no eyes, no mouth… only ears.
The title above it read:
"He Who Listens Behind Walls."
Suddenly, the air in the room grew cold.
Ahaan's window rattled.
But there was no wind.
He looked at his wall—the one behind his bed.
He heard something…
Tapping.
Three slow taps.
Tap… tap… tap.
He stood.
Pressed his ear to the wall.
And instantly—
A loud whisper stabbed into his brain:
"I heard your voice in the mirror, boy."
"Now I will hear your screams in the dark."
Ahaan stumbled back, nose bleeding.
His uncle found him an hour later, shaking, unable to speak.
They tried to call a doctor.
But the call never connected.
Only static.
And behind the static, one soft voice whispered:
"Do not heal what must be hollow."
That night, Ahaan dreamt he was inside a house with no doors.
Just walls.
Covered in ears.
Bleeding.
Listening.
And as he moved through the rooms, voices whispered things he never told anyone.
His secrets.
His fears.
His thoughts.
Something had access to his mind now.
He woke up screaming.
The book glowed again.
A new line appeared:
CASE EIGHTEEN: The Door That Should Never Open
Status: Too Late.
Invasion begins at 3:33 AM.
You must re-seal it.
With silence.
Ahaan looked at the clock.
3:31 AM.
He had two minutes.
He threw on his hoodie, grabbed the journal, and ran to the garden behind the house.
Buried beneath the old swing was a shovel.
And beneath that… was a key his father once said "never use."
The Orphanage Key.
Carved from bone.
Wrapped in thread.
Still warm.
He ran through the dark streets, barefoot, heart pounding.
The fog was thick.
Streetlights flickered.
He could hear footsteps behind him—but when he turned, no one was there.
Only whispers.
Hundreds of them.
Saying his name.
But not in voice.
Inside his thoughts.
Like someone had drilled into his mind.
He reached the orphanage.
It looked worse than ever.
Alive.
Rotting.
Weeping black slime.
And at the back wall, the door was open.
Slightly.
From the crack, a sound came out—like thousands of people breathing at once.
Ahaan stepped closer.
He knew what he had to do.
Close it.
Seal it.
Before 3:33.
He walked in.
The hallway was darker than night.
Shadows whispered.
Paintings bled.
Children laughed from nowhere.
And then—he reached it.
The door.
Old, rusted, cracked open… bleeding from the sides.
A small hand reached out from inside.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Grabbing the air.
Trying to crawl out.
Eyes blinking in the dark.
Voices said:
"We want faces."
"We want noise."
"We want to scream with you."
Ahaan took the journal and began to speak the sealing words:
"Blood to lock.
Silence to seal.
The Hollow must remain unheard."
The hands reached for him.
Grabbed his face.
Tried to pull him in.
He screamed—
But the scream echoed backward.
Inside his head.
Like someone else screamed for him.
Then everything went silent.
Dead silent.
No sound.
No breath.
No heartbeats.
Just… nothing.
And then—
SLAM.
The door closed on its own.
A red symbol burned across it like fire.
Sealed.
For now.
Ahaan collapsed on the floor.
The book lit up for the final time that night:
"The door is sealed…
But something escaped before it closed."
"It wears no face.
It follows only you."
Then...