The Door That Shouldn’t Close

Yiran's breath came slow and shallow.

The heavy slam of the door still echoed in her ears, rattling through the quiet corridor.

She didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Her mind raced.

It could have been the wind.

A draft.

A perfectly logical explanation.

But logic didn't explain the whisper.

Didn't explain the way her name had curled through the air as if spoken from the shadows.

She forced herself to take a slow step back, her gaze locked on the door.

Still. Silent.

But her instincts screamed at her.

Something was different now.

She exhaled softly, steadying herself.

Should she open it?

Or would that be walking into something she couldn't come back from?

Just as she reached her decision—

Something touched her wrist.

A light, chilling brush.

Like the faintest trace of cold fingers dragging across her skin.

Not forceful. Not painful.

Just… there.

Her heart seized.

She turned sharply—

But there was nothing behind her.

Just the empty corridor.

Just silence.

Just—

The feeling of something unseen standing too close.

Yiran's skin burned where she had felt it.

Cold fingers. A fleeting touch.

A trick of the mind?

No.

It had been real.

She exhaled slowly, her pulse steady despite the tightness coiling in her chest.

The air felt different now.

Thicker. Heavier.

As if the hallway itself was holding its breath.

She turned back toward the door.

It stood there, closed and unnervingly still.

Nothing about it had changed.

And yet—it felt different.

Like it was waiting.

Her fingers twitched at her side.

Should she open it?

Would that be worse?

A quiet chill curled down her spine.

Ignoring this wouldn't make it disappear.

If something was inside—if someone had left that note—she needed to know.

She inhaled softly, then reached for the handle.

Her fingers hovered just above the polished metal.

And then—

A whisper.

Low. Near.

So close it felt like it was brushing against her ear.

"…Don't."

Yiran's breath stopped.

She wasn't imagining it.

It was real.

And it was right behind her.

Don't.

The whisper slid against her ear, barely more than a breath.

Close.

Too close.

Every instinct in Yiran's body screamed at her—

Turn around.

Run.

Move.

But she didn't.

Couldn't.

A thick, unnatural pressure pressed against her shoulders, pinning her in place.

Like if she turned—if she so much as breathed too loudly—

She would see something she wasn't meant to.

The air around her felt charged.

Not warm.

Not cold.

Just wrong.

The kind of wrong that pressed into your skin, that curled at the edges of reality like a presence that didn't belong.

Her pulse thudded against her ribs, but she forced herself to stay still.

Don't react. Don't acknowledge it.

Seconds stretched.

Then—

The pressure lifted.

Abruptly.

Like whatever had been there had just—

left.

The breath she had been holding slipped from her lips in a slow, silent exhale.

The air was light again. Normal.

As if nothing had ever happened.

But Yiran knew better.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into her palm.

Whatever had been behind her…

It had let her go.

This time.

Yiran inhaled.

Slow. Careful.

She expected the pressure to return.

For the air to tighten around her throat again.

For the whisper to slither back against her skin.

But…

Nothing happened.

The corridor stretched around her, silent and undisturbed.

As if the past few seconds had been nothing more than a dream.

Her fingers twitched slightly.

She forced herself to move.

A small step back. Then another.

Still nothing.

No shadow curling against the edges of her vision.

No presence waiting just beyond her reach.

Her body felt her own again, no longer weighed down by something unseen.

It's gone.

The thought should have comforted her.

It didn't.

Because as she stared at the closed door, a quiet realization slid into her mind—one that made her blood run cold.

Whatever had been behind her…

It hadn't wanted to hurt her.

It had been warning her.

And if something that terrifying had wanted to keep her away—

What the hell was behind that door?

Yiran's fingers hovered over the door handle.

She shouldn't.

Every instinct told her not to.

Whatever had been behind her—whatever had whispered her name—

It hadn't wanted her to go inside.

And yet…

She needed to know.

She exhaled softly, steadying herself.

Her hand closed around the cool metal handle.

She hesitated.

The air was normal now.

The hallway was silent.

She could open the door.

Just a small glance.

Just enough to—

Her fingers pressed down.

Nothing.

The handle didn't move.

Yiran blinked, gripping it tighter.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

The door was locked.

Not from her side.

From the inside.

Her breath hitched.

She took a slow step back, her heartbeat pounding against her ribs.

**Someone—**or something—was inside that room.

And it had locked itself in.