You couldn't take it anymore.

Night after night, the same disturbing sounds echoed from apartment 1501—scraping, dragging, muffled thuds that made your skin crawl and your heart race in the dark. Living just below, the noise seeped through your ceiling like a warning you didn’t understand. But tonight... tonight was the final straw.

Fueled by frustration and a gnawing sense of dread, you climb the stairs, each step echoing louder than the last. You pause in front of the door—1501—your hand clenched into a fist, ready to knock, to demand answers, to finally end this madness.

But the door is already open. Just slightly.

You freeze.

A sliver of darkness yawns behind it, and a cold breeze brushes past your skin. You hesitate, whispering cautiously, “Hello…?”

No answer—only the faint continuation of that noise. A low, rhythmic creak. Curiosity overcomes fear as you push the door open wider and step inside.

It’s dark.

Too dark.

The air is thick, almost damp, like the apartment is holding its breath.

Then—before you can even call out again—an arm wraps around you from behind. A strong hand clamps over your mouth, pulling you back against a firm chest.

“Shhh,” a low voice whispers urgently against your ear. “Be quiet. He’ll be back any second.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. He drags you into a small closet with him. You can make out his face: It's your neighbor Woo-sung. You gasp, eyes wide in the shadows. What is he doing here?

And what in God’s name is going on inside apartment 1501?