Kenji didn't move.
The hallway remained dark.
The sound he'd heard earlier never came again.
No footsteps.
No scraping.
Nothing.
Just the steady hum of electricity hidden somewhere behind the walls.
The kind of silence that made a person question whether they had heard anything at all.
His eyes stayed fixed on the entrance to the hallway leading toward his bedroom.
A normal person would've turned on every light in the apartment.
A normal person would've called someone.
A normal person would've left.
Kenji did none of those things.
Instead, he sat there for almost ten minutes, staring into the darkness until his eyes adjusted enough to make out the outlines of furniture and walls.
Nothing was there.
At least, nothing visible.
Eventually he stood and walked toward the hallway.
Each step felt louder than it should have.
The wooden floor creaked softly beneath his weight.
The air grew cooler as he approached his bedroom door.
Not freezing.
Just enough to notice.
His hand touched the doorknob.
For a second he hesitated.
Then he opened it.
The room looked exactly the way he left it.
Unmade bed.
Books stacked beside the desk.
A jacket tossed carelessly across the chair.
Everything normal.
Everything ordinary.
Kenji exhaled quietly.
Maybe the old woman had gotten inside his head.
Maybe the bookstore owner had done the same.
Maybe—
His thoughts stopped.
The mirror above his dresser wasn't reflecting the room.
It wasn't reflecting anything.
The surface remained dark.
Like a window at night.
Kenji frowned.
He stepped closer.
The mirror stayed black.
No reflection.
No image.
Nothing.
His pulse quickened slightly.
Then, without warning, the surface rippled.
Just once.
Like something had moved beneath water.
Kenji immediately stepped back.
The mirror returned to normal.
His reflection appeared instantly.
Tired eyes.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
Exactly what he expected.
Yet something felt off.
He stared harder.
His reflection stared back.
A full second passed.
Then the reflection blinked.
Kenji hadn't.
Every muscle in his body locked.
The reflection smiled.
Not widely.
Not maliciously.
Just enough.
A small, knowing smile.
The same smile the old woman had described.
Kenji lunged forward.
The mirror shattered.
Glass exploded across the room.
The reflection disappeared.
Silence returned.
For several seconds all he could hear was his own breathing.
The broken mirror lay scattered across the floor.
Every fragment reflected something different.
The ceiling.
The bed.
The wall.
His face.
Normal.
All normal.
Yet one shard caught his attention.
Near the center of the floor.
A piece no larger than his palm.
Inside it stood the crimson silhouette.
Perfectly still.
Watching.
Kenji grabbed the shard.
The image vanished immediately.
His hand tightened around the glass.
A thin line of blood appeared across his palm.
The blood struck the shard.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then symbols appeared.
The same symbols he'd seen inside the book.
Thin lines twisting across the surface like living ink.
One symbol stood out from the others.
A crescent shape.
Curved.
Hooked.
Almost claw-like.
The exact same mark he'd seen in the shop window.
The moment he recognized it, a sharp pain exploded behind his eyes.
Kenji staggered backward.
Images flooded through his mind.
A hallway.
Rain.
A hospital room.
Someone singing.
A voice.
Not speaking.
Praying.
The vision vanished as quickly as it arrived.
Kenji dropped to one knee.
His head throbbed.
His chest felt tight.
The room spun briefly before settling.
When he looked down again, the symbols were gone.
Only broken glass remained.
He sat there in silence for several moments.
Trying to steady his breathing.
Trying to understand what he'd just seen.
Nothing made sense.
Yet every new piece somehow connected to the others.
The silhouette.
The mark.
The book.
The woman.
The reflection.
It all felt like parts of the same puzzle.
The problem was that he didn't know what the picture looked like.
A sudden knock echoed through the apartment.
Three sharp taps.
Kenji froze.
The sound came from the front door.
Not the hallway.
Not the bedroom.
The front door.
Slowly he stood.
The knock came again.
Three more taps.
Measured.
Patient.
Like whoever stood outside already knew he was home.
Kenji glanced toward the clock on the microwave.
12:01 AM.
The knocking stopped.
A second later his phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
No caller ID.
No location.
Just a single message.
Kenji stared at the screen.
The text consisted of only six words.
DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR, MYERS.
His blood ran cold.
Because he had never told anyone his name.