Hy pressed her back against the cold door of Apartment 19.
The metal knob rattled once then stayed still. Locked.
For a long moment, she didn't move. The air in the hallway was thin, like someone had drained all the oxygen and replaced it with silence. The flickering light above her blinked at an uneven rhythm two long flashes, one short. Every time it went dark, her reflection appeared faintly on the metal door, eyes wide, breathing uneven.
She whispered, "It's just a power surge."
But even her own voice sounded detached, like it came from the other end of the corridor.
At the far end, a faint red glow pulsed against the walls. It was weak, almost lazy, yet it drew her attention like a heartbeat in the dark.
The elevator.
She started walking. Each step echoed too loud, too sharp like her heels were tapping on hollow bones instead of tiles. The air smelled faintly of rust and wet paint, though she couldn't remember anyone ever repainting this hallway.
Halfway through, she stopped. The corridor looked longer than before.
Much longer.
She turned her head slowly. The door of Apartment 19 was still visible, but smaller now, further away.
Hy blinked once, hard. "No… it's fine. It's just perspective."
She pressed her hand against the wall as she walked again, fingertips dragging along the cracked wallpaper. The texture shifted smooth, then rough, then warm, as if something behind it was breathing.
When she reached the end of the hall, the light above her flickered off completely. Only the red glow remained, bleeding out from the elevator door like a thin mist.
The digital panel above the door blinked:
–19–
Then changed.
–18–
–17–
The elevator was moving. Upward.
Hy frowned. "But… I'm already on the 19th."
Then came the sound ding.
Soft. Precise. Mechanical.
Followed by a breath. Not hers.
She turned.
Behind her, every apartment door on the corridor was now slightly open.
The doors stood ajar.
Every single one.
From Apartment 19 to the end of the corridor, six doors hung slightly open just enough for the black inside to stare back.
Hy didn't move. She only heard her heartbeat, fast and shallow, and the faint static hum crawling in the air. The red glow at the far end pulsed once, twice syncing with her pulse.
She whispered, "Is anyone here?"
The words dissolved halfway, swallowed by the air.
Nothing replied. But one of the doors Apartment 21 moved a little.
A small, slow creak.
Hy's mouth went dry. She lifted her phone for light, though her hands trembled so hard the beam shook across the walls.
Wallpaper. Cracks. A faint smear red or brown, she couldn't tell.
"Don't be stupid," she muttered. "Just go back to your door."
She turned.
Her door was closed. The number 19 was gone.
In its place was a blank gray panel.
Smooth, seamless, as if there had never been a door there at all.
Hy felt her breath shorten. "No. No, that's not."
Something clicked behind her.
One of the doors had fully opened.
Cold air rushed out, brushing against her arm like fingers. The smell was metallic, sharp, like wet coins and dust.
Hy raised the phone higher. "Who's there?"
The beam caught something a glimpse of the floor inside.
A single line of footprints, faintly darker than the tiles, leading inward… then stopping mid-room.
The sound came again. Creak.
Not from the open door.
From the one next to it.
Another door opened then another.
A soft chain reaction.
Hy backed away slowly, her back touching the opposite wall. Her reflection in the broken glass panel beside her flickered between light and shadow sometimes it blinked when she didn't.
The hum grew louder. The air thickened. Each open door now breathed in and out the faint movement of air like invisible lungs.
Her throat tightened. "Stop."
But the corridor didn't.
The red light at the end of the hall began to flash faster
and the elevator dinged again.
Only this time, the number above it changed to
–20–
Hy froze.
There was no twentieth floor.
Hy stared at the panel above the elevator 20 glowing faintly red against the darkness.
Her lips trembled. "There's no twentieth floor…"
But the sound came again.
Ding.
Soft. Calm. Too calm.
The air shifted, like the building itself had taken a breath.
Then the elevator doors slid open smooth, soundless.
Inside was only darkness. No reflection, no walls, no floor visible.
Just a hollow black space, like a room that had forgotten what light was.
Hy didn't step forward. She couldn't. Her body refused to move.
Yet something in her mind whispered: You've been here before.
The hum returned deeper now, vibrating through her bones.
Her phone flickered once, then died. The corridor plunged into half-darkness.
Hy's heartbeat filled her ears. The air smelled faintly familiar dust, metal, and… jasmine?
She blinked, confused. Jasmine was the scent of her old apartment, years ago, before the fire.
She shook her head hard. "No. That's impossible."
But when she looked again, the hallway behind her had changed.
The doors were closed.
All of them.
And the wall where her apartment used to be where she remembered the number 19 now had a small, square panel embedded in it. An elevator button.
She turned back to the open shaft.
Inside, something faint glimmered the outline of a mirror.
She stepped closer, slow, cautious.
The reflection came into view: herself, standing at the edge, pale and trembling.
Only the reflection didn't mimic her perfectly. Its lips moved slightly… whispering.
Hy leaned in. "Whatareyou"
The elevator light flickered.
For an instant, her reflection smiled.
Then everything went dark.