After my brief conversation with the courier, I stepped back inside. My body felt heavy with fatigue, but my mind refused to stay still. Memories of that night three years ago played on repeat. Viona's pale, lifeless face floated into my mind, and my skin prickled.
I walked toward the bathroom. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, I heard it — the sound of running water. Clear and unmistakable, as if someone had turned on the faucet.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I had been living alone ever since Keinaya disappeared.
So who was in the bathroom?
"Maybe I'm just imagining things," I told myself, trying to calm the rising panic. But my palm was slick with sweat, ice-cold.
Slowly, I pushed the door open. The hinges groaned softly, stretching my fear even thinner.
The bathroom was empty. Silent. Only the glow of the ceiling light reflecting in the mirror.
I let out a shaky breath of relief. But as I took a step forward, a chill crawled across the back of my neck.
A heavy, undeniable sensation pressed against me — the feeling of being watched.
From my right.
I didn't dare turn my head. My heart thudded wildly, yet my legs moved on their own, carrying me inside. The bathroom tiles were freezing under my feet, colder than usual.
I raised my head, eyes drawn to the mirror.
And there — behind my own reflection — stood a tall, dark silhouette.
Its shoulders were broad, its eyes faintly glowing red. For just a heartbeat, it stayed there, watching me. Then it was gone.
I froze, rooted to the spot. My breath came in ragged pulls, something heavy pressing against my chest. Then, a whisper — soft, too soft to tell if it came from my own mind or from that thing — brushed against my ear.
I squeezed my eyes shut and bowed my head, too terrified to look again.
Every instinct screamed at me to run.
And yet… something pinned me there, as if an unseen hand gripped my mind, forcing me to stand my ground. When I finally dared to open my eyes, the silhouette was gone.
I darted a glance around the room. Nothing.
I showered in a rush, ears straining for the faintest sound, praying nothing else would happen. Luckily, nothing did — though the sensation of being watched never left, even after I stepped out of the bathroom.
As I dressed, my phone suddenly rang. The screen lit up with a familiar name, Biyanka.
"Hello," I answered, my voice a little rough.
"Morning, Yifan." Her tone was bright, cheerful.
"Morning…" I replied quickly, trying to mask the tension in my voice.
"Umm… could you come to my place? There's something I need to talk about. It's important."
I frowned. "Alright. I'm on my way."
"Thank youuu…" she replied, her tone playfully sweet.
I set my phone down and grabbed my keys. I chose my motorbike over the car in my garage. I didn't know why — maybe I just felt safer that way.
---
Before long, I arrived in front of Biyanka's house in Beningsari. On the way, I had stopped to buy her favorite tiny oranges.
Her house was big, luxurious. From a distance, I saw her already sitting on the porch, her long wavy black hair cascading over her shoulders. She wore casual, slightly revealing clothes — nothing unusual for a girl home alone — but she still carried an effortless beauty that was hard to ignore.
When she saw me, she smiled and came over. Her expression was warm, but there was something in her eyes — a glint, like she was studying me.
"Yifan, welcome," she greeted.
"All alone here?" I asked.
"Yeah. Hehe… honestly, I get scared when I'm by myself, that's why I called you over. Besides, there's something important we need to talk about."
"Whatever you say. Here — I brought these."
I handed her the bag of tiny oranges. Her lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes glinting as if reading something more into the gesture.
"Thank you. I love these," she said sweetly.
We went inside. The house was spacious and elegant. I sat on the couch in the living room, and she settled next to me.
"Sorry," she said gently, "I still haven't found any news about your sister."
I shook my head. "Thank you for helping, but it's not your fault."
She smiled faintly, then looked at me with a piercing gaze. There was something different in her expression this time, as if something was weighing on her.
"So… what is it you wanted to talk about?"
"Do you remember the day Keinaya disappeared three years ago? And the massacre that happened that very night in the neighboring town?"
My heart lurched.
"Of course I remember. How could I forget? Even talked about it this morning… with the courier."
"The courier?" she repeated quickly.
I nodded. "Yeah. He delivered a package — couple shirts for me and Keinaya."
"Did he ride a black Beat bike?"
I turned, startled. "How do you know?"
Her face drained of color. She quickly unlocked her phone, showing me an Instagram post.
"Was this him?"
I looked closer — my stomach dropped.
"Yes. That's him. But… why is a news account posting about him?"
Biyanka's face was pale, her eyes locked on mine. I read the caption — and my entire body went cold.
The courier… had died yesterday morning.
I stared at the screen, wide-eyed, my throat tightening.
But I'd just seen him this morning.
Then… who delivered that package?
My thoughts spiraled, chaos tearing through my mind. The heavy, suffocating feeling of being watched surged again — this time stronger, like something stood right behind my chair.
"Fan… Yifan."
I jerked back to reality. Biyanka had leaned in, her face close to mine. "Are you okay?"
"I… I'm fine," I lied.
"Liar." Her gaze softened, filled with genuine worry.
"Yifan, stay over at my place tonight, okay? We're both alone anyway."
I blinked in surprise but quickly understood. She didn't want me to be alone after this shock.
"I… don't think I can, Bi. People will talk…"
"Then I'll stay at your place. End of discussion."
I stared at her, confused. "But… my house is haunted."
A faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips. "I'm used to it. Don't forget, I've had a sixth sense since I was a kid."
I froze. She was right — I had almost forgotten that Biyanka could sense things most people couldn't. Ghostly disturbances were nothing new to her.
"No more excuses. If you refuse, I'll be mad." Her eyes were firm, yet warm.
"…Fine," I sighed.
She grinned and reached for the tiny oranges. The air between us warmed again as we talked casually.
Until—
The sound of a car engine rumbled outside, stopping right in front of her house.