【Sweet Dreams Kumanthong Baby】1:The Noisy Child Behind the Wall

11:27 PM.

The screaming started again from the other side of the wall.

Lee Zhi Wei spat out his toothpaste, the minty foam streaked with copper. Blood. His gums were bleeding—again.

The man staring back at him from the mirror looked like a ghost: hollow eyes, dark rings, sleepless for two nights straight. He was unraveling slowly, like cloth torn by a dull blade.

Clatter!

Next door in 1502, glass marbles rained across the floor. Then came the shrill, high-pitched laughter of a child.

"Not again…" Zhi Wei gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into the edge of the sink.

He'd only been in Jade Residences, three days, and already this. The building was supposed to be soundproof. Last night, he'd knocked on the shared wall—solid concrete, thick enough to muffle a drill.

But the child's laughter pierced through, thread-thin and needle-sharp, embedding itself deep in his skull.

How could people live like this?

How could someone let their child make such a racket at night in a place like this?

Thud. Thud. THUD.

The impacts rattled his toothbrush cup. Not a ball. Something heavier. Something like—

A skull hitting drywall.

"Enough!" Zhi Wei slammed a fist into the bathroom tile.

The noise stopped. Silence fell—so sudden it rang.

Zhi Wei lay in bed, forcing his eyes shut.

The low hum of the air conditioner lulled him to sleep—

BANG!

A crash dragged him violently back to waking.

Heart pounding, he sat upright.

The screen on his phone lit up in the dark: 12:01 AM.

This time, no laughter.

Just pounding. Rhythmic. Measured.

Something heavy slamming into the wall again and again.

His bedframe trembled with each hit.

"Goddamn it—" He kicked off the sheets, veins bulging at his temples. Two nights of this. Two nights of letting it go. Not tonight.

The fabric of his pajamas whipped with every step as he stormed to the door.

He yanked it open and marched into the hallway.

The metal numbers on 1502 gleamed under the corridor light like a cold warning.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

He jabbed the doorbell. Again.

Again.

Inside, something shuffled—bare feet pacing on tile—but no one came to answer.

Zhi Wei clenched his jaw, pulled his fist back, and pounded on the door.

"Open up!" His voice cracked through the hallway. "I know you're in there! What the hell time do you call this?!"

His knuckles throbbed from the impact. Pain sobered him slightly.

And then—

Click.

The door behind him opened.

An old man peeked out from 1505, hair messy with sleep, eyes squinting in annoyance.

"What the hell is going on? It's the middle of the damn night."

Zhi Wei drew a sharp breath through his nose. "Sorry. It's just—someone's kid in 1502 keeps making noise. I haven't slept in days."He gestured to the door behind him.

The old man's face changed.

The irritation faded. His eyelids twitched.

"Boy," he said, lowering his voice. "Don't joke like that."

"…What?"

"Can't be anyone inside there. Miss Lim flew to Japan last week—hasn't come back yet. And... she lives alone. Always has. No kids."

A chill climbed Zhi Wei's spine like cold, wet fingers.

His mouth opened, but no sound came.

Then—

"AB...CD...EFG..."

A child's sing-song voice seeped under 1502's door, warped like a music box winding down.

Zhi Wei froze.

He stared at the door, then turned sharply to the old man.

"You hear that? Now tell me there's no one inside!"

The old man blinked. Tilted his head.

Silence.

"…Hear what?"

Zhi Wei's eyes didn't leave the door.

"The singing. A kid. Right now."

The old man's face slowly drained of color.

He didn't hear it.

But he saw something in Zhi Wei's expression that made his skin crawl.

"…I don't hear anything," he whispered.

"Don't scare yourself like that. It's late."

SLAM!

The door to 1505 slammed shut, making the air jump.

Zhi Wei stood alone.

The old man hadn't seemed like he was lying.

So why was he the only one who could hear it?

What if...

He stood frozen, the hallway dim and suffocating.

That voice—it was still singing.

Faint. Crooked.

Note by note, like glass scraping on bone.

He stumbled back.

Turned.

Ran.

Back into 1503.

Slammed the door. Locked it.

He didn't sleep that night.

Not for a second.