1ST RE-SET

Reyan found himself standing outside his apartment door once again. His breathing was heavy, his forehead drenched in sweat. His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird. What had just happened? His hands trembled as he tried to process it.

Awkwardly, he let out a nervous laugh.

"Well… what was that? Déjà vu? Or… was I dreaming? Haha…"

He paused, his voice faltering.

"Maybe… maybe I'm losing my mind. I—I haven't even entered my room yet… Alright, let's just go in."

He placed his bag down, pulled out his keys, and inserted them into the lock. But just as he was about to turn it, a strange hesitation gripped him.

My gut… it's telling me not to open this door…

His fingers twitched around the key. Is this some kind of warning? No, that's ridiculous… maybe just my sixth sense acting up… Haha, I'm overthinking it. If something were wrong, wouldn't I have noticed already?

Shaking off the unease, he twisted the key and swung the door open forcefully.

"Hah! Got you!!" he exclaimed, as if expecting something to lunge at him.

But the room was just as quiet as always. A small, ordinary space—a bed, a kitchenette, a study table, and a washroom. Nothing seemed out of place.

"Eh…? Everything's… fine?" he muttered. "Should I even go inside?"

He hesitated again, his nervous chuckle breaking the silence.

"What am I saying? Of course, I should. It's my damn room! I pay rent! If I don't go in, who will?"

Trying to shake off the paranoia, he stepped inside, locked the door behind him, changed into his casual clothes, freshened up, and sat at his study table. He switched on the lamp, put on his glasses, and flipped open his novel.

Then, it hit him.

"This… this is exactly like my dream."

His hands gripped his head, his fingers pressing against his temples. His breathing grew unsteady.

"What the hell is happening to me…?"

He leaned back in his chair, letting his arms fall limply to his sides. His gaze drifted upwards to the dimly lit ceiling.

"If… if what I saw was real, then that means… today… I'm going to die."

BANG!

He slammed his hand on the table, gasping.

"Hah!! No way. Dreams don't come true! I'm not some psychic who can see the future! Today was just… a bad day. That's all."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Maybe… I should just sleep."

He removed his glasses, turned off the lamp, and let the room bathe in faint moonlight. The dim glow wasn't enough to fully illuminate the space, but it was enough to see.

Just as he was about to lie down, another thought crept into his mind.

Maybe… I should check my room first.

With cautious steps, he scanned every corner—bathroom: empty. Under the bed: nothing. Kitchenette: clear.

Silence.

An eerie, suffocating silence.

Then, he heard it.

Footsteps.

His breath hitched. His body froze.

Huh? What was that…? Did I… really hear something?

"N-No… I've heard that when people are scared, their brains create sounds that aren't real. R-Right…? I'm just… scared."

Still, he walked toward the door and checked the lock. It's Secure. But when he turned around, a dreadful thought settled in his mind.

If I accept that what I saw was real… then how did I die? More importantly… who killed me?

He smacked his forehead, forcing himself to stay calm.

"How the hell am I supposed to sleep like this…?"

He sat back at his desk and glanced at his phone.

11:27 PM.

Placing it back down, he stared at his bed.

Maybe… sleeping isn't a good idea.

—

The room was silent. The bed looked occupied—someone was lying under the covers.

Except… Reyan wasn't in the bed.

He was hiding underneath it.

A kitchen knife clutched tightly in his trembling hands. His breaths came in quiet, uneven gasps.

Then, he saw them.

A pair of shoes stepping toward the bed. Polished leather. Formal.

Just like his own.

His gaze traveled upwards. The figure wore a suit, identical to his work attire. The same height. The same posture.

And in its hand—

—a brand-new hammer.

His mind raced.

W-Who is that?! Where did he come from?!

The figure raised the hammer high.

BANG!

A violent crash shattered the silence. The bed above him groaned and splintered under the force of the blow. The impact was so strong it nearly crushed him—had he not shifted slightly to the side, he would've been obliterated.

The mysterious figure yanked the blanket off the bed, revealing the pillow he had placed there as a decoy. It stood still for a moment, scanning the room, then began walking toward the bathroom.

Reyan's pulse pounded in his ears.

I need to get out of here… But my body… it won't move…

His hands twitched. Move. Move. MOVE!

He stretched one hand forward, preparing to crawl out—

—when suddenly, the figure bent down and peered under the bed.

Their faces were inches apart.

But in the darkness, he couldn't see its face.

His fear exploded.

"YAAAA!!"

With a desperate scream, he lashed out, stabbing blindly with the knife.

But the figure dodged.

Without hesitation, he rolled out from under the bed and sprinted toward the door.

Don't look back, don't look back, just run—!

Then—

SLASH!

Pain ripped through his thigh. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping. He didn't need to look to know—a knife had been thrown at him.

Still, he reached for the door handle. Twisted. Pulled.

It's Locked.

A chilling sound echoed behind him—

Grinning.

Shaking, he turned his head.

The figure stood over him, hammer raised, bloodthirsty silence stretching between them.

It still looked exactly like him.

Reyan's breath hitched.

"HELP!! SOMEONE—PLEASE!!"

His cries faded into weak whimpers. "Help…"

The figure gripped the hammer with both hands.

It swung.

BANG!

Blood. So much blood, splattered against the walls. The hammer dripped with crimson.

—

RE-SET.

Reyan found himself standing outside his apartment door.

Again.

His chest heaved. Sweat dripped down his temples.

He was alive.

Or was he?