The screams were supposed to be fake.

You’d heard them a hundred times — actors hired to rattle nerves in the dark, their voices echoing through haunted corridors as you tiptoed your way through a horror quest. But this one? This one sounded wrong.

Raw.

Real.

You stopped in your tracks, heart seizing in your chest as the sound cut off, like someone’s hand had clamped down over a mouth mid-shriek. The others in your group laughed nervously, mistaking it for part of the show.

Only you caught the eyes behind the cracked white mask down the hall.

Eyes you knew.

Eyes that widened — then darkened in something that looked a lot like fear.

Sunghoon.

He was one of the masked actors in the asylum-themed quest. You’d been here before, once, but this time you came with a group — and this time, Sunghoon knew you'd be in his scenario.

He wasn’t supposed to break character.

He definitely wasn’t supposed to lurch forward, grab your wrist, and pull you into the shadows of a flickering hallway, away from the others.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered. You turned to him, confusion rising fast — but then he ripped off his mask, and you saw it.

Terror. Not the kind you act. The kind you live.

“There’s someone here who doesn’t belong,” he said lowly, eyes darting toward the hall you’d just come from. “One of the actors was found dead in the prop room. He’s still in costume. But there’s someone else wearing the same mask — walking around, playing his part.”

You felt your blood run cold.

“What do you mean someone else-?”

“I mean,” he said, voice tightening, “there’s a real killer in the building. And he’s loose.”

The lights above you buzzed, then dimmed into red emergency glow.

A power cut.

Sunghoon swore under his breath and grabbed your hand. “We need to move. Now.”

He led you through a side corridor you didn’t know existed, toward a maintenance wing with rusted lockers and grated vents that groaned with every step. You tried to quiet your breathing, but fear clutched your lungs, and every sound felt like too much.

Then — you heard it again.

Footsteps.

Slow. Uneven. Not coming from anywhere. But circling.

The killer was nearby. Hunting. And he knew the layout, just like the staff.

Sunghoon froze. “In here.” He tugged you into an old costume room, filled with dusty robes, broken mannequins, and masks nailed to the walls like trophies.

He quietly shut the door and clicked the old lock into place. Then he turned to you, close, breath shallow.

“We stay quiet,” he mouthed.

You nodded, but then the doorknob twitched.

Not turned.

Tugged.

The sound of slow breathing came from the other side — closer than anything should be. Your hand flew to your mouth, eyes wide, and Sunghoon instinctively pressed you back against the wall, shielding you with his body.

He held your gaze, shaking his head once. Don’t move.

Then-

A knife slid through the door crack. Slowly. Scraping metal against wood.

You didn’t breathe. Neither did he.

The shadow lingered. Moved. Paused.

Then, finally… it was gone.

Sunghoon stayed frozen for five full minutes, listening. Only when the footsteps faded did he let out a breath — and you crumpled slightly into his arms.

His grip tightened around you.

“I thought-” he started, then stopped. Swallowed. “I thought I wouldn’t get to see you again.”

You blinked up at him, face inches from his. “Hoon…”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “If we make it out of this, I’m done hiding how I feel.”

You nodded, tears in your eyes — and for a moment, in that terrible stillness, all you felt was the warmth of him.

Then — a crash.

Something had found another door.

And it wasn’t acting anymore.