Hesa and the others had gathered in the garden, right in front of an old metal drum they had turned into a makeshift bonfire. The flames crackled and danced, casting long shadows across their tired but relieved faces.
Without wasting a second, Hesa tossed the doll in his hands straight into the fire. The fabric caught instantly, curling and blackening as the smell of burnt plastic filled the air.
"So, what exactly happened?" Niki asked, breaking the uneasy silence.
"What do you mean, what happened?" Hesa replied, pretending not to understand.
"That doll—did it find you or Setta first?" Niki pressed.
"It found me," Setta answered before Hesa could speak. "It kept stabbing the closet door where I was hiding, but luckily Hesa came in time."
"Y-yeah," Hesa added quickly, his voice slightly trembling. "I heard a strange sound, so I went to check it out, and turns out it was that doll… stabbing the closet."
The others nodded, satisfied with the explanation—none of them noticing how Hesa avoided eye contact.
"And then you two came looking for us to tell us the game was over," Satya said.
"Well, yeah. What else?" Setta shrugged.
"But, Setta—your hand. It's bandaged now, and I didn't see that before. The doll did that to you?" Joan asked.
"I was trying to hold the door shut so it wouldn't open," Setta explained, lifting his hand. "The knife went through the wood. It's just a scratch though, nothing serious."
Arkha, who had been staring quietly into the fire, turned his head slightly and muttered, "Knew it. My gut feeling was right."
~~~~~~~
The night grew eerily still. The villa, once alive with laughter, had sunk into deep silence as the group drifted into sleep. But amid the quiet, one person stirred restlessly beneath his blanket.
"What time is it…" Hesa mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes before grabbing his phone beside the pillow.
"Two a.m.?" he frowned. "The game ended at one. So I've only slept for an hour… but why do I feel wide awake?"
He sighed, placing the phone back down, then got up and walked toward the door.
*Click.*
"What the—why's it locked?"
Panic began to creep in. He twisted the knob harder, even pounded on the door.
"Damn it, I'm locked in!" He reached for his phone again, trying to call his friends, but every number was inactive.
"They're probably still asleep… whatever. I'll just wait till morning," he muttered, climbing back into bed.
But when he closed his eyes, his thoughts wandered back—to *him*.
"The lavender ghost…" he whispered.
That was what he decided to call the figure he'd seen earlier. The ghost with pale purple hair. For some reason, the image of that being wasn't as terrifying as he expected. There was something sorrowful about its expression—especially when it had smiled.
Still, a ghost was a ghost. Terrifying, no matter how human it looked.
And it had known his name—and Arkha's.
"That thing's not watching us right now, is it?" he muttered. "How could it know who I am? It said it wasn't from the villa, or from the ritual… then what is it?"
He thought for a moment. Arkha's real name was *Arkhanael*, and the ghost had called him *Arkhan*.
Maybe… it had known him from somewhere else.
Then, Hesa remembered something else—Arkha had been saying for days that he'd been feeling "weird presences," like premonitions. Could it be because that lavender ghost was attached to him?
And earlier, when Setta mentioned getting cut by the doll's knife, Arkha's expression had shifted—like he *felt* something again.
"Yeah… I need to talk to Arkha tomorrow," Hesa whispered. "That ghost said it saw him twice. What if they actually *know* each other?"
He sighed and lay back down. "Forget it. I'll deal with it in the morning."
He pulled the blanket over his head and tried to sleep.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
Footsteps echoed outside. Hesa sat up.
"Who's running out there?"
He pressed his ear against the door.
*Thud… thud… thud…*
This time, he could hear heavy breathing—like someone was running *from* something.
"HEY! WHO'S OUT THERE?" he shouted, banging the door.
Then, faintly—
"Go away… I don't know who you are…"
That voice. Hesa froze. It was familiar.
"Stop following me! Just go away!"
"SETTA?" he yelled, slamming his fists against the door. "SETTA, ANSWER ME!"
No response—only silence, stretching longer and longer—until even the echo of running footsteps faded away.
Then came the sound of distant crows cawing outside, cutting through the stillness.
~~~~~~
"Still night," Setta mumbled, staring at the dim light seeping through the window curtains.
Usually, when he woke up at this hour, it was because he needed the bathroom. But not this time. He felt… different. Restless.
"Whatever," he muttered. "Probably just coincidence."
He lay back down and closed his eyes—only for a voice to whisper from the darkness.
"Setta Dinanta… after all the effort I put into waking you up, you're really going to ignore me?"
Setta froze. It wasn't any of his friends' voices. Every instinct screamed for him to stay still, to keep his eyes closed. But curiosity got the better of him. Slowly, he turned toward the voice.
And there it was—in the mirror of his wardrobe.
"You…"
He stared, trembling. The figure in the reflection looked exactly like him. Same face. Same eyes. Except… its smile was wrong. Crooked. Cold.
"Who the hell are you?" he shouted.
"Your twin," the reflection said calmly.
"N-no… you're a ghost!"
Setta stumbled out of bed and rushed toward the door. He grabbed the doorknob—but froze when he saw movement in the mirror.
The reflection stepped out.
With an eerie smile, it began walking toward him. Setta snapped out of his daze and bolted out of the room, heart hammering in his chest. His footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, yet the house itself remained unnervingly silent—like it was swallowing the sound.
He pounded on every door he passed. "HESA! NIKI! WAKE UP!"
No answer. No one moved inside any of the rooms. It was as if he were the only one left awake in the whole villa.
Driven by panic, Setta sprinted through the dark hallway, turning into an empty room. He slammed the door behind him and crouched behind a table, clutching his knees, breath trembling.
Please, he prayed silently, please don't find me.