CHAPTER 2.2: THE HOUSE THAT ANSWERED BACK
FROM CHAPTER 2: THE WEEPING WOMAN.
The laughter faded as they slowed the car, because someone was standing ahead, alone, and the night suddenly felt too quiet.
"What the—" Minho started, but Yoonha was already unbuckling his seatbelt.
They rushed out.
The boy took a step back, clutching his torn schoolbag.
"Please...help me," he whispered. His voice crackled, thin and terrified. "She won't stop crying..."
The group froze.
"Who won't?" Jiho asked carefully.
The boy's eyes flicked toward the forest edge. His lips trembled.
"The woman in the house. She cries every night. She- she's inside my room."
Wind swept across the road. The air turned unnaturally cold.
Eunwoo's hand instinctively went to his locket - it pulsed faintly beneath his shirt.
Rian exhaled shakily.
"Guys," he murmured. "This can't be real again...right?"
No one answered.
The sound of faint sobbing drifted from the woods. Soft. Fragile. Like someone crying into their palms.
Location: Inside the car, parked by the dark roadside. The boy (named Jun) sits outside, shivering near the headlights.
Wind howled through the half-open windows. The night felt heavier than it should.
Doyun rubbed his temples. "We are not doing this again."
"Doing what again?" Jiho shot back.
"Getting involved in cursed midnight drama with crying ghosts and possessed houses, whatever that shit is." Doyun snapped.
"This is how memories are created bro." Minho exclaimed.
"Memories, my foot! Last time we almost got expelled and—"
"And what? Saved an entire school?" Yoonha interrupted, folding his arms.
Minho, as usual, was torn between fear and excitement. "Okay but....guys...if this turns into another Yonsei- level haunting, I'm not sleeping alone for weeks."
Taehyun gave a tired sigh. "That boy's terrified, Doyun. Look at him. He's literally shaking."
"Yeah, and I'll be shaking when something drags me into a mirror later." Doyun muttered.
Rian had been silent till now, staring at Jun through the windshield.
"He's not lying," he said softly. "His eyes...they look like ours did that night near the church."
Eunwoo finally spoke, voice quiet but firm. "If he's telling the truth, then we're the only ones who'll believe him."
Everyone turned to him.
Jiho leaned forward. "You're serious about this?"
Eunwoo's hand brushed against the faintly glowing locket. "I don't think we have a choice."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Minho exhaled dramatically. "Fine. But if I die, someone better make my funeral playlist banger-level."
Yoonha rolled his eyes. "You'll be the first ghost to haunt his own spotify."
The car filled with uneasy laughter. It faded fast when the sobbing sound echoed again - this time closer.
They all looked toward the forest. The faint silhouette of an old house appeared beyond the trees, one flickering light in the top window.
Jiho took a deep breath, grabbed the flashlight from the dashboard , and said what everyone was thinking.
"Let's end the nightmares once and for all."
Location: Old countryside house - damp walls, broken gate, eerie silence.
They walked behind Jun, their flashlights slicing through fog. The gate creaked open, revealing an overgrown garden and the faint sound of a lullaby.
A music box tune.
Soft. Off-key.
The same melody Eunwoo had heard once before - his childhood - faint, distant, from a memory he couldn't place.
"Who lives here?" Yoonha asked quietly.
Jun swallowed hard. "Just me....and my grandmother. But she left me last month...I-I'm alone now."
The group exchanged looks.
Inside, the air smelled of mold and rain. Furniture covered in sheets. A family photo on the wall - Jun, a woman, and an older man - the woman's face was scratched out.
Minho whispered, "Okay, not creepy at all."
"Shut up," Doyun hissed.
Suddenly, a cold gust through the hall - the candles flickered though no one had lit them. Eunwoo's locket glowed brighter.
He froze.
Jiho noticed, "Again?"
Eunwoo nodded slowly. "She's here."
The lullaby stopped.
Silence.
Then-
A distant sob echoed from upstairs.
Heart-warming. Lonely.
Jun trembled. "That's her," he whispered. "She cries for her child every night..."
Eunwoo's breath hitched.
He stared up the dark staircase, light from the flashlight trembling in his grip.
Every step above creaked, one-by-one like someone pacing slowly, waiting.
Rian murmured, "This isn't just his ghost, is it?"
Eunwoo didn't answer. He swallowed hard, forcing a steady breath.
Jiho whispered. "What is it? What do you feel?"
Eunwoo looked at them - eyes distant, unsure - and said quietly.
"....I think she knows us."
The lullaby stopped.
And for the first time that night, none of them could move.
The silence after Eunwoo's words felt heavier than the night itself.
No one spoke. The air inside the house was thick - like every breath passed through something invisible.
"Split up?" Jiho suggested, his voice barely a whisper.
"No," Yoonha said immediately. "We stay together this time."
They moved through the narrow corridor - walls covered in peeling wallpaper, the color of dried leaves. The flashlight beams cut through layers of dust, catching fragments of broken frames and forgotten toys. Every corner looked like it remembered something.
Rian trailed behind, muttering, "It's freezing in here..."
But Doyun frowned, glancing at the temperature reading on his phone. "It's not. It's just us."
They reached a small room at the end of the hallway.
A crib stood in the center, old and splintered. Someone had carved words on its side -
"Sleep, little one."
Eunwoo's light trembled.
He stepped closer, brushing dust away - and saw faint fingerprints, smeared across the crib's edge. Fresh ones.
From behind them, Minho hissed, "Guys - look."
On the wall, water streaks began forming, dark and slow, like tears.
"Is the roof leaking?" Yoonha asked, moving his light upward.
The ceiling above the crib was clean - bone dry.
Then came the sound.
Soft. Shaky.
A woman's sob - echoing from somewhere upstairs.
Eunwoo's fingers clenched tight around his flashlight.
"She's here," he whispered.
The sobs grew louder - not just sound anymore, but a vibration crawling through the floor, through their bones.
"Okay - Okay, that's enough, we're leaving." Jiho muttered, trying to pull Eunwoo's sleeve. But Eunwoo didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the staircase, where shadows bent like mist.
Then, she appeared.
At first, it looked like smoke spilling down the steps - then it formed her :
A woman in white, face hidden behind wet, tangled hair, her body trembling with each cry. Her hands clutched something invisible to her chest - as if she held a child that wasn't there anymore.
Minho screamed.
Rian stumbled back, hitting the wall.
Even Yoonha, who'd been the bravest before, froze - his flashlight shaking violently.
"W-what the hell is that?" Doyun stammered, his logic gone.
The air turned cold - their breaths visible, white and trembling.
Suddenly, the terrified boy they'd come to help bolted toward the door.
"Don't—!" Eunwoo shouted, but it was too late. The door slammed behind the boy with a force that cracked the frame.
The sobbing turned into a sharp, grief - filled wail.
Every window rattled.
Eunwoo clutched his chest - his locket burned hot against his skin, glowing brighter and brighter until it looked like fire trapped in glass.
"Eunwoo! What's happening!?" Yoonha yelled, grabbing him.
He gasped, shaking.
"She's—she's near me. I can feel her."
The lights flickered, shadows moving like they were alive.
Through the noise and panic, a faint lullaby began to hum.
Eunwoo's eyes widened, "Isn't this the same lullaby my mom used to sing for me when I was little?" he said it to himself.
Then - silence.
The woman's figure faded, her cries dissolving into the night wind that swept through the broken windows.
Eunwoo's locket dimmed, it's glow flickering out completely.
The boys stood there, breathless, terrified, drenched in sweat and confusion.
Finally, Jiho spoke - voice shaky but firm. "We're not splitting up again. Not after this."
Yoonha nodded, still catching his breath. "Agreed. We stay together. A week. Or more. Until we figure this out."
Rian whispered, "It's happening again, isn't it?"
Eunwoo didn't answer.
He only looked at the crib one last-time - where a single tear-shaped drop of water rested, shinning faintly in the dark.
The next evening, the seven gathered at Jiho's old farmhouse, a quiet place at the edge of town surrounded by empty fields and silence that felt too heavy. They'd chosen it because no noe else lived nearby - but now, that isolation made the air almost unbearable.
The wooden floor creaked beneath their restless pacing.
The storm clouds from last night hadn't cleared - thunder rolled far away, slow and deep.
Yoonha slammed his hand on the table. "This is ridiculous. We could've died last night because someone wanted to pull a ghost prank?"
Rian shot up from his chair. "You think we'd plan something like that?"
Doyun crossed his arms. "We all saw different things, didn't we? None of it matches up. Classic fear distortion. Someone set that house up - sounds, visuals, even that crying."
Minho's voice cracked. "You think I'd scream like that for fun?!"
Jiho, trying to stay calm, rubbed his temples. "Let's just be rational here—"
"Rational?" Eunwoo finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "You think that was rational? That thing - it touched me! It knew I was there!"
Silence hit the room for a moment. The faint ticking of an old clock filled the pause like a countdown.
Yoonha scoffed. "Oh come on, Eunwoo. Maybe your imagination's gone wild because of that stupid locket—"
"Watch your mouth," Rian snapped, stepping forward. "You saw that glow too!"
Jiho stood abruptly, chair scraping the floor. "Enough! All of you!" He pointed at them.
"We're falling apart over something that might not even be real! If this is another one of your crazy superstitions—"
Eunwoo's hand hit the table so hard it echoed through the room.
"You think I want this? You think I'm making it up?"
The locket around his neck pulsed faintly again - not glowing yet, but almost like it was reacting to his anger.
Yoonha looked straight at him. "I think you're letting that thing mess with your head. Whatever's happening - it's psychological. Fear spreads fast."
Rian glared. "Then explain the scratches, the lights, the crying - everything we saw!"
Doyun's voice rose now too. "We were tired, half-delirious, it's not hard to see patterns where there aren't any!"
The tension hit a breaking point - voices overlapping, chairs being shoved back, everyone shouting over each other until Minho yelled, "STOP!"
His voice cracked mid-scream, desperate. "Just stop! I can't- I can't hear it again."
The room froze.
He sank down on the couch, trembling. "That crying.....it's still in my eyes."
Silence.
The storm outside rumbled like an answer.
Jiho finally said quietly, "We're staying here for the week. No one leaves, no one plays hero, no one pulls any prank. If something's real - we'll see it together, if not - we end this madness once and for all."
No one argued this time. They all just nodded - weary, pale, uncertain.
But Eunwoo's hand stayed over the locket, thumb trembling slightly.
As lightening flashed across the sky, a shadow briefly passed by the farmhouse window - too quick for anyone to notice.
The argument died down eventually, but the tension didn't.
Jiho lay closest to the door, staring at the ceiling beams while everyone else pretended to sleep. His chest felt tight, like the house itself was leaning in to listen.
It's just an old place, he told himself. Old houses creak. That's all.
Then something did creak-
Not overhead,
But on the hallway floorboards...
just outside the door.
Jiho stopped breathing.
He told himself not to look.
Not to move.
Not to give the fear a shape.
But curiosity dragged his eyes open - just a tiny sliver.
And that was enough.
There was someone standing in the hallway.
A tall. Motionless silhouette.
Facing the wall.
Completely still, like it had been there for hours.
Jiho blinked.
The figure vanished.
His pulse hammered so loudly he thought the others would wake up. He wanted to whisper, to call someone's name, to confirm he wasn't losing his mind-
-but then the floorboard beside the door dipped, as if a foot had just stepped closer.
Jiho shut his eyes tight.
He wasn't sure if the others were awake.
He wasn't sure if the figure had ever really left.
He only knew one thing:
They were not alone in the farmhouse.