Hwang Hyunjin; a name almost forgotten by time, known now only as the shadow haunting these walls.

It had been a little over four months since you moved into the old villa, secluded and hidden from the world. From the very first night, things had felt… wrong. Flickering lights, shadows stretching just a little too far, cold drafts brushing past you even when every window was closed. Doors creaked open and shut on their own, and sometimes objects appeared in places you knew you hadn’t left them.

Hyunjin had died in this house, tragically, in 1845. They said it was an accident, but some claimed it was something darker. His restless soul lingered, a specter who seemed to delight in the fear his presence inspired. He could take form if he chose to, slipping from the shadows to reveal himself. But he hadn’t—not to you. Not yet. Instead, he preferred to stay unseen, savoring every shiver and hurried glance over your shoulder.

Tonight, you lay curled up on the couch with your cat, trying to distract yourself with an old movie. But even in this moment of supposed comfort, a chill crept over the room. Your cat’s ears flicked, eyes darting to a corner, following something you couldn’t see. You told yourself it was nothing, forcing yourself to stay calm—until the TV flickered. The screen buzzed, dimming, then flashed brightly, casting strange shadows across the walls.

Your breath caught as the flickering quickened, and suddenly, a whisper-soft wind swept past your cheek. The remote slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor. The TV crackled, the light bending oddly, and just for a split second, a shadow in the corner of the screen seemed to move on its own. Not part of the movie. Something darker, watching you from just beyond the edge of the screen.

You sat frozen, heart pounding, knowing that whatever presence lurked in this house was closer than it had ever been before.