Chapter 3: The Vanishing Neighbor

At that moment, another message came in the group:

402: [Nothing’s wrong over there, we’re overthinking it. Everyone go to sleep.]

I stared at the phone, stunned.

I didn’t hear 402 return and close his door—definitely not.

When he left, he closed the door, so how could he come back without opening and closing it?

Could it be he went into 404?

The thought made my hair stand on end.

My mind started to spin, a chill creeping down my arms despite the sticky, summer-warm apartment air. Was this really happening, or was I just overtired and feeding off everyone’s nerves?

On the screen, 601 and 302 both said it was fine, let’s all sleep.

Only 504 said nothing.

Then I noticed he actually sent me a private message:

[Bro, you’re definitely not asleep, right? Single guys like us always stay up late, I don’t believe you’re sleeping… Did you see all the group messages?]

I was stunned for a second, but it made sense.

504’s single too, we sometimes game together, both night owls.

So I didn’t hide it, and replied: [Yeah, I’m up. Saw the whole thing. Thought it was done, but now I’m not so sure.]

I didn’t dare tell him about the weird thing I’d just heard—I was more curious why he messaged me privately.

504 was blunt: [Bro, don’t you feel something’s off?]

Of course I did, but I still didn’t want to say it outright, worried I’d make things more complicated.

So I replied: [What’s off?]

He replied quickly, clearly tense too: [402—your neighbor—his last message felt off to me. Did you notice he has a little typing quirk?]

What quirk?

I hurried back to the group chat and scrolled up, checking 402’s messages.

Then I realized—this guy, when he types, almost every sentence ends with a cutesy little ‘lol’ or smiley face.

But, but—

After he went to 404, the message telling everyone to go to sleep didn’t have it.

It sounded way more serious.

Does that mean…

I didn’t dare think further.

My fingers went cold, hovering over the keyboard. It was like one of those moments in a horror movie when the camera lingers just a beat too long, and you know something’s about to go wrong.

I just kept replying to 504: [You mean the ‘lol’? You think the last message wasn’t from him?]

Right then, I heard faint noises outside my door:

Like someone was deliberately muffling their footsteps, moving quietly.

I couldn’t help but lean in closer to the peephole…

When I looked, my back went cold—

Because outside my door, the weird face of the man from 404 was also pressed up against the peephole. His eye was so close I could see the whites, searching. For a second, I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat.