Shliinnnn—
Blurred black images flashed violently through Jog Lin's vision.
Not faces.
Not memories.
Only hands.
Endless black hands twisting through darkness.
Grabbing.
Pulling.
Tearing.
Jog Lin staggered against the staircase wall.
His breathing broke apart.
"Papa…"
"Mama…"
"Where did you go…?"
Tears slid silently down his face.
For several seconds—
he simply stood there shaking.
Then slowly—
he wiped the tears away.
No.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
His thoughts began racing.
"That book…"
"Why was it with my father?"
His eyes widened slightly.
He had seen it before.
In his room.
Just moments ago.
But that memory…
should have been impossible.
Jog Lin slowly looked upward.
Far above the endless staircase—
a faint yellow light flickered weakly.
His room.
The only place that still felt remotely real.
The only exit.
Without thinking—
he stepped upward.
The staircase groaned softly beneath him.
Then—
a whisper crawled through the darkness behind him.
"Jjj…og…Linnn…"
Jog Lin froze instantly.
Every muscle in his body tightened.
Slowly—
he turned around.
"Who's there…?"
No answer came.
Only silence.
Then the whisper returned.
Closer this time.
"Jjj…og…Linnn…"
The sound echoed unnaturally through the staircase.
Not from one direction.
From everywhere.
The walls.
The ceiling.
Inside his own head.
Jog Lin's breathing became uneven.
Then—
he saw it.
At the very end of the staircase—
a pale white hand slowly emerged from the wall.
Its fingers bent the wrong way.
Too many joints.
Its skin looked stretched thin over something moving underneath.
Jog Lin could not look away.
The hand twitched once.
Then—
it began to sing.
Softly.
Like a mother humming to a child.
"Ooo… my little boy…"
"Will you play… with your toy…"
"Did you say… good morning…"
"My dear… Jog Linnn…"
Jog Lin's heartbeat exploded violently.
The melody felt familiar.
Not remembered—
but buried.
Something ancient inside him recoiled in terror.
"STOP—!!"
His scream ripped through the staircase.
Pain tore across his throat instantly.
Warm blood filled his mouth.
He collapsed to one knee coughing violently.
The song stopped.
Silence returned.
The pale hand slowly retreated back into the wall.
Gone.
Jog Lin stared at the darkness where it had vanished.
Then suddenly—
his body moved on its own.
He ran.
Straight downward.
Not away from it.
Toward it.
His thoughts screamed at him to stop—
but something deeper pulled him forward.
As if the staircase itself had already chosen him.
The deeper he descended—
the more violently the staircase shook.
CRRRRKKK—
The steps behind him collapsed one after another into endless darkness.
No escape.
No return.
Only descent.
Jog Lin kept running.
Then—
the walls beside him changed.
Memories began moving across them like living paintings.
Not dreams.
Not illusions.
Memories.
His memories.
Jog Lin slowed.
And his chest tightened painfully.
His father lay motionless on the floor.
Blood spread silently beneath him.
The unfinished book rested beside his hand.
And nearby—
a small child knelt beside the body.
Crying softly.
"Papa…"
"Wake up…"
"You promised…"
Jog Lin's vision blurred.
It was him.
A younger him.
The child shook the body desperately.
Again.
And again.
But the man never moved.
A cold whisper drifted through the staircase.
Then—
white smoke began pouring slowly across the floor inside the memory.
The child stopped crying.
Something stood behind him now.
Tall.
Thin.
Watching silently.
Jog Lin felt ice spread through his chest.
The figure looked almost human—
but not completely.
Its face seemed unfinished.
As though someone had tried to create a person from memory…
and failed.
One enormous red eye opened slowly across its pale face.
And the thing smiled.
Then—
it crouched beside the corpse.
And gently picked up a piece of flesh from the dead man's arm.
Like a curious child examining a toy.
Jog Lin stopped breathing.
The creature placed the flesh into its mouth.
Slowly chewing.
Its red eye never left him.
Then it spoke.
A voice like wet paper tearing in darkness.
"Your father was incomplete."
The staircase trembled violently.
"So the story consumed him."
The creature tilted its head.
Almost curiously.
"But you…"
Its smile widened unnaturally.
"You survived."
The memories around Jog Lin shattered instantly.
Darkness swallowed everything.
THUD.
Jog Lin collapsed hard against the stairs.
His vision faded in and out.
Yet somewhere ahead—
he saw light.
A dim golden glow at the bottom of the staircase.
The creature's voice echoed behind him one final time.
"Every unfinished story becomes a door."
"And every door… eventually opens."
Jog Lin forced himself forward.
One step.
Then another.
The staircase finally ended.
At the bottom—
stood a massive black door.
Ancient.
Covered in symbols that twisted when looked at directly.
Jog Lin reached toward it slowly.
The surface felt warm.
Like breathing skin.
For a moment—
he hesitated.
Every instinct inside him screamed not to open it.
But another feeling had already surpassed fear.
Curiosity.
The need to know.
The need to understand what Han Seojin truly was.
Jog Lin pushed the door open.
TRRRRRR—
Dust exploded into the darkness.
One by one—
old lamps ignited by themselves around the room.
Golden flames flickered weakly.
Revealing crimson walls.
A long red carpet stretched forward into the shadows.
And at the center of the room—
stood a table.
Four figures sat around it silently.
Their heads lowered.
Motionless.
Dead still.
At the center of the table—
a single candle burned with pale white fire.
The room smelled of old paper and ash.
Jog Lin took one slow step forward.
And suddenly—
all four figures raised their heads at the exact same time.
The candle went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Then—
someone whispered beside his ear:
"Welcome back… Han Seojin."