The Door That Shouldn’t Open
Yiran stood frozen.
The corridor stretched around her, quiet, untouched.
Lu Shao's footsteps had already faded into the distance.
But his words remained.
Some doors are better left closed.
A statement. A suggestion.
A warning.
Her fingers twitched at her side.
She turned slightly, gaze flicking back toward the door behind her.
Still closed. Still locked.
Unmoving.
But it didn't feel the same anymore.
Now, it felt like something deliberate. Controlled.
Something not meant to be touched.
Her fingers hovered just above the handle.
Should she try it again?
Would anything happen if she did?
Her pulse quickened slightly.
It was stupid.
Reckless.
And yet—
She needed to know.
She inhaled slowly, bracing herself.
But before she could reach for it—
A soft gust of air brushed against her skin.
Yiran stiffened.
Not wind.
Not movement.
Something else.
Something that shouldn't have been there.
She turned sharply—
But the corridor was empty.
The air felt still again.
Normal.
But deep in her chest, she knew—it wasn't.
Her fingers curled slightly.
Not now.
She forced her body to move, stepping away from the door.
She wouldn't touch it.
Not tonight.
But deep inside—she knew she would come back.
Yiran forced herself to walk away.
One step at a time.
Not too fast.
Not like she was running.
Even though—deep down—that's exactly what she wanted to do.
The hallway stretched before her, lined with polished marble, dimly lit by the soft golden glow of the estate's wall sconces.
Silent.
Unchanged.
But the air felt different.
Like the walls had been listening.
Like the shadows had stretched just slightly further than they should have.
She exhaled lightly, steadying herself.
It's fine.
She had left the door behind. She had left Lu Shao behind.
There was nothing more to see tonight.
She just had to return to her room.
Forget this.
Pretend.
It was better that way.
She turned a corner, her fingers brushing absently against the cool fabric of her gown.
And then—
A whisper.
Soft.
Distant.
But not like before.
Not like the voice that had called her name outside the locked door.
No.
This one was different.
Lower.
Strained.
And it wasn't speaking to her.
Yiran stopped, breath catching.
The sound drifted from somewhere further down the hall.
Faint.
Broken.
Like someone was pleading.
Yiran's pulse tightened.
Who was speaking?
And more importantly—
Who were they speaking to?
Yiran didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
She strained her ears, trying to catch the whisper again.
But—nothing.
The air had swallowed it whole, like it had never existed.
Like she had only imagined it.
Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her gown.
Had she?
No.
She knew what she heard.
It had been real—just like the whisper that had called her name.
A soft breath escaped her lips.
The hallway stretched ahead, empty and undisturbed.
Too empty.
Too undisturbed.
She took a step forward, her heels clicking lightly against the polished marble.
Still nothing.
Another step.
The silence deepened.
Not the comfortable quiet of a sleeping estate.
Not the emptiness of a place at rest.
This was something else.
Something unnatural.
Like the walls themselves had gone still.
Like the house was waiting.
Watching.
Testing her.
Yiran swallowed against the tightness in her throat.
For the first time, she wondered—
Had she stepped into something she wasn't meant to hear?
Yiran exhaled slowly.
The whisper was gone.
The hallway stretched ahead of her, untouched.
Silent.
Too silent.
She tried to ignore the way her skin prickled, the way the weight of the air felt different now.
Maybe she was just imagining things.
Maybe she was exhausted, her mind playing tricks on her after everything that had happened tonight.
Maybe.
But deep down, she didn't believe that.
She had always trusted her instincts.
And right now—they were telling her to leave.
Her fingers smoothed over the cool silk of her gown as she took a slow, steady step back.
Then another.
She wouldn't turn her back on the hallway just yet.
Something about it felt… wrong.
Like if she turned too quickly—she'd see something she wasn't meant to.
Her breath stayed even, controlled.
One more step.
Then—
A soft creak.
Behind her.
Her pulse stopped.
She froze.
The sound had been quiet. Barely more than a whisper against the stillness of the house.
But it was real.
Her mind ran through the possibilities—old floorboards, settling wood, the natural sounds of a house this size.
None of them felt right.
Slowly—so slowly—she turned.
Her gaze swept over the empty corridor behind her.
Nothing.
No one.
The marble floor stretched clean and undisturbed beneath the dim lighting.
Yiran's heart pounded.
But she wasn't wrong.
She had heard it.
Something—someone—had moved.
And yet, as she stood there, pulse tight in her throat, she realized—
There was no place to hide.
Yiran's breath came slow.
Measured.
Her gaze swept the corridor one last time.
Empty.
The silence stretched, pressing against her ears, heavy and unnatural.
But nothing moved.
No shadow flickered.
No whisper returned.
No sign that anything had ever been here at all.
Her fingers curled slightly against the silk of her gown.
Was she imagining things?
She had been awake for too long. Too much had happened tonight.
Lu Shao. The locked door. The whispers.
Maybe she was overthinking it.
Maybe she should just—leave.
She inhaled softly and turned.
Then—
Cold.
A light, fleeting touch.
Not on her wrist this time.
Her shoulder.
Like the weight of unseen fingers skimming across the fabric of her dress.
Yiran's body went still.
The breath she had just taken stayed locked in her throat.
The air around her felt thick again. Heavy.
Like something unseen had stepped too close.
Like something was still here.
Waiting.
Watching.
Testing her.
Yiran swallowed, her heartbeat slow but too loud in her own ears.
She didn't turn back this time.
Didn't dare.
Instead—she walked.
One step. Then another.
Not too fast.
Not like she was running.
Even though, deep down—
That's exactly what she was doing.