Then—THUD! Something heavy fell just outside the room,Before anyone could react, a piercing, blood-curdling scream cut through the silence, echoing off the dark green and red walls.

  The group froze. Hearts hammering, each of them instinctively reached for their weapon, Zhayne tightened his grip on his wooden stick, Jayson clutched his spoon, Vincent raised his plate, and Rafael held his brush ready.

  Leon gripped the doorknob. “Me and the others will go check. You stay here,” he said, glancing sharply at Zhayne.

  “Me? Wh—” Zhayne’s eyes widened in surprise, a nervous sweat forming on his forehead.

  Leon didn’t reply. The others were already ready to go, waiting for him to open the door.

  “Fine... I’ll stay here,” Zhayne said with a sigh, shoulders sinking. Then he lifted his gaze, his expression hardening, eyes steady and serious. “Be careful.”

  Leon gave a brief nod before stepping out. The door closed with a dull thud, leaving Zhayne alone. He tightened his grip on the stick, his body trembling.

  Five minutes passed, and Zhayne could no longer hear any voices outside.

  Then came footsteps. Just one pair.

  He froze.

  Each step grew louder, closer—until it echoed just beyond the door. Leon’s warning replayed in his head: Never walk alone. Always stay together.

  Zhayne swallowed hard, retreating until his back pressed against the wardrobe.

  The doorknob turned. The door creaked open.

  His instincts screamed at him to hide. He slipped inside the wardrobe, covering his mouth with one trembling hand while the other gripped the stick. Through a small crack, he could see the figure enter.

  That person… wasn’t a stranger.

  It was Dan.

  Dan—whose corpse still haunted his mind.

  But now Dan wore a clown costume.

  Zhayne’s pulse raced as Dan moved slowly across the room. Then, horrifyingly, he lifted the skin of his own face and hung it on the hanger beside the bed.

  Beneath it were two dark holes where eyes should be, and something like a mouth stretched unnaturally across his face.

  Zhayne’s stick slipped from his trembling fingers. He clamped both palms over his mouth, fighting the urge to scream or puke.

  The faceless figure turned, as if it had heard something. Zhayne squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath.

  Moments later, he heard the door click shut.

  Silence.

  One long minute passed before Zhayne cautiously pushed the wardrobe open and stepped out.

  Then he felt it—a presence. Something behind him. A weight pressing at the back of his mind, making his skin crawl.

  Heart pounding, he slowly turned.

  Behind him, the man stood. His face was hollow and strange,black holes where his eyes should be, and a mouth like a dark, empty hole. His clown costume hung loose and ripped, moving slightly as if it had a life of its own. He didn’t blink or breathe like a normal person, and when he tilted his head, Zhayne felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

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  In his hand, he held a saw, the blade glinting faintly. Zhayne’s heart pounded as he realized the figure was not just standing there,it was waiting.

  Zhayne's eyes widened, and a chill ran down his spine. His heart pounded as he took a step back, hands trembling. He glanced at the man, noticing the man’s mouth moving as if something was alive inside it.

  The man walked toward him and swung the saw in a wide arc. Zhayne ducked low, jerking his head to the side just in time as the blade whooshed past. The saw swung back in a vicious horizontal slash, and Zhayne rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding it.

  Desperate, he grabbed a small chair and slammed it against the saw,but the man drove the blade straight through the chair, splintering it instantly.

  The saw skidded forward, inches from Zhayne’s eyes. Heart racing, Zhayne yanked the chair aside and spun around, narrowly escaping the deadly arc.

  Then, suddenly, the man started swinging his saw wildly again. Zhayne shoved him and lunged for a stick, blocking another savage swing. The stick rattled under the impact and slipped, but Zhayne lunged forward, forcing the man into the wall. The saw wedged into the wall with a harsh clang, giving Zhayne a brief opening to sprint toward the door while the man struggled to free his weapon.

  Zhayne burst through the door, panting heavily, hands resting on his knees. He sank to the floor, trying to steady his racing heart, then looked up, and found himself in a vast, empty black space.

  His legs shook violently, swelling painfully, making it hard to stand. He waited a moment until his body calmed, then slowly rose, limping as he called out, “Leon! Rafael! Vincent!” His voice echoed into the void, fading into silence, fading into silence.He looked around, unease curling in his stomach, the blackness pressing in from every side.

  He looked around, taking in the emptiness stretching in all directions, the blackness pressing in from every side.

  Ahead of him stood a tall red door, slightly larger than a normal door, embroidered with flowing gold patterns. Its golden knob gleamed under an unseen light. He took a deep breath and opened it, only to be blinded by a brilliant, dazzling light. When his vision cleared, the door had vanished.

  He was inside a grand castle, opulent and glittering. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, tables were adorned with drinks and cakes, and people moved gracefully, dressed in elegant suits and masks, with women in beautiful dresses.

  Zhayne looked down at himself. He was wearing a pristine white suit with gold accents,sharp tailoring, detailed gold stitching, and gleaming gold details. He touched his face and felt a white mask with delicate gold spikes protruding from it, shimmering under the chandeliers’ light.

  Through the crowd,One woman approached him, wearing a striking red Victorian-style dress with gold embroidery. The gown had a fitted bodice and a full skirt that brushed the floor.

  Her long, wavy orange hair framed her semi-brown skin and delicate features. She wore a red mask, and in her hand, she held a yellow flower, completing her elegant and captivating appearance.

  “You finally arrived,” she said, looking at him with a sharp glare. She lifted her skirt slightly and hurried forward, then stopped in front of Zhayne. “We cannot waste any more time,” she said sharply. “What are you waiting for? Hold the flower.”

  Zhayne stared at her blankly, his mind spinning, unsure of what to do. Slowly, he took hold of the flower she was already holding. Without a moment’s pause, she yanked him along, moving quickly and forcefully as if time was running out.

  Zhayne tried to keep up with the girl’s pace. Suddenly, he realized he no longer felt the pain in his leg. He started looking around as they reached a table filled with sweets and drinks.

  There was a girl with a large bun of curly blonde hair, wearing a pink dress adorned with countless bows. She had a beauty mark beside her mouth and heavy makeup, and she was holding a fan. Beside her stood a man in a simple black suit with a dark blue mask.

  “You took long enough,” the blonde girl said, her nose slightly wrinkled and her lips curling in obvious disgust as she looked at Zhayne.

  The girl in red didn’t respond. She simply shot the blonde a sharp glance, then turned back to Zhayne and motioned for him to sit.

  She held out a cup and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

  Zhayne hesitated for a moment, staring at the cup. “No, I would prefer water,” he said quietly.

  The blonde girl’s smirk deepened, her expression still dripping with disdain, and she handed him the cup anyway, as if daring him to refuse.

  Zhayne accepted it hesitantly, his eyes flicking between the two women, unsure of what to do next. The girl in red remained calm, her sharp gaze never leaving him, silently urging him to focus

  While drinking the water, Zhayne’s eyes caught something familiar in the distance—a man with hair just like Rafeal’s. A jolt of recognition shot through him, and he quickly got up from the table, ignoring the girl in red calling for him to wait. He pushed through the crowd, moving as fast as he could.

  Then, something felt off. The people around him seemed… different—their heads looked like animals for just a moment, and their movements felt unnatural.

  Zhayne pressed a hand to his face, trying to but the image wouldn’t clear. His head spun slightly, and he felt a wave of dizziness, struggling to keep his balance. The drink he had taken didn’t taste like water, and a cold unease settled in his chest.

  Through the blur, one figure stood out clearly—the familiar man stepping toward a pair of red doors. Zhayne reached toward him, but his legs wobbled, and his vision flickered. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the man disappearing behind the doors. Then he collapsed, fainting, the world fading around him.