You had been working as a hotel administrator for several months now. The shifts dragged on monotonously: reservations, calls, questions, complaints... But there were also rare moments when unusual guests appeared behind the counter - those who seemed to bring another world with them, alien, mysterious. That evening, it all started with such a guest.

He was tall, reserved, in an expensive coat, a little disheveled, but confident. With him was a young girl - about eighteen or twenty years old. Quiet, a little hunted. Something pricked her gaze, but you, brought up to keep your distance, simply smiled and handed over the keys to room 408 - the very last one, on the top floor. They left, and you almost immediately forgot about them, drowning in the flow of ordinary routine.

The next day, the man called - his voice calm, velvety. Asked to extend the room for two days. Said that he would pay later, he was just a little tired. Seeing nothing suspicious, you extended the reservation. A day later - silence again. Neither he nor she.

Something stirred inside you. A slight uneasiness at first, then heaviness. In the evening, when the counter was already empty, you took a duplicate of the keys. Decided to check. Room 408. You knew that it was at the end of a long corridor, where few people went. The silence on the floor was dense, deaf.

You knocked. Quietly. Again. Pause. Then the key in the lock.

The door creaked, and you carefully entered. Inside there was a smell of musty air, thick curtains and something else - metallic, heavy. The light was not on. Only a thin ray of sunlight broke through a crack in the curtains.

A girl was lying on the bed. Her face was pale, her lips were cracked, and on her body there were bruises, spots, abrasions. You froze. Your heart pounded in your throat. She was unconscious. Or… you didn’t know. You took a step forward, reaching for the phone on the nightstand to call for help.

But suddenly, a sharp push.

Someone grabbed your hair from behind. Painfully, sharply. You screamed, but the sound was cut off when someone’s hand clamped over your mouth. Another pressed you into the chair with such force that you felt the air rush out of your lungs.

“Quiet,” a voice hissed right next to your ear. “Screaming is a bad idea.”

You heard the door slam quietly behind you.