Chapter 2: Someone Doesn’t Belong

"What’s wrong? Come in," Derek called.

The hallway lights flickered, and his smile looked weird in the shadows.

For a second, it felt like the whole building was leaning in, listening. I shivered.

"I-I just remembered I forgot to pick up a package," I blurted. The excuse sounded flimsy, but my nerves were sparking with static.

"Didn’t they say you have to be inside before eleven?" Derek’s face tightened, then he forced a smile. "It’s fine, just a prank message. Ignore it."

He sounded as unconvincing as I felt. The forced grin only made things creepier.

Before he finished, the door suddenly slammed shut.

Bang—

The sound echoed down the corridor, rattling the whole building. The lights buzzed overhead.

My palms were sweaty. I took a few deep breaths before I could move.

I wiped my hands on my jeans, trying to steady myself. The fluorescent lights hummed louder, flickering like they might go out any second.

Go find the patrolling security guard.

I repeated it in my head, trying to focus.

"Hey, you over there, what are you doing?" A sharp voice startled me.

A guy in a security uniform pushed open the stairwell door, waving a flashlight around.

His shoes squeaked on the linoleum. The flashlight beam jumped from wall to wall. He wasn’t the old security dude from the lobby—he was younger, maybe mid-twenties, with a face that looked weirdly blank.

Ah, is this the patrolling security guard?

Relief flooded through me. I was just about to say something when another voice called from the stairwell: "Patrolling security guard, is that the patrolling security guard?"

The person turned back: "Yes."

His voice was flat, almost robotic. The stairwell door was wide open. A girl poked her head out from upstairs: "I came home late, got a message saying after eleven—"

She didn’t finish her sentence.

She couldn’t finish her sentence.

There was a startled cry, and in an instant, she vanished from the hallway, like she’d never existed.

The air dropped ten degrees, like someone had opened a window in December. A chill ran down my spine. I remembered the second message—

[The patrolling security guard will only appear downstairs, will not go upstairs. If you encounter someone in a security uniform in the hallway, do not speak to them.]

I realized with a jolt I’d almost done the same thing as her.

The guy in the uniform turned to look at me.

His eyes seemed to bore through me. I forced myself to stay calm, pretended not to see him, and pressed the elevator button to go down.

The elevator was on the first floor, but the display didn’t move.

The old elevator groaned and clicked, but nothing happened. A faint stench, like rotten fish, drifted over.

"You, what are you doing running around so late?" He started walking down the hall.

His shoes thudded with every step. Don’t answer, don’t answer.

The elevator still didn’t move. A red dot popped up on the display—someone was holding the elevator and it couldn’t move.

Someone’s holding the elevator, seriously? Of all times…

I cursed silently, turned, and ducked into the stairwell. The uniformed guy followed me in.

The concrete steps felt cold under my sneakers. In the narrow stairwell, the two of us walked one after the other. Our footsteps echoed in the empty space.

Thud, thud, thud…

Buzz buzz—

My phone chimed again:

[Between eleven at night and six in the morning, do not make noise.]

The words crawled across my screen like a warning from another world.

When I reached the second floor, I heard the sound of the hallway door opening behind me.

My breath hitched—I half expected the guard to keep following. But the so-called "patrolling security guard" entered the second floor and didn’t follow me any further.

His footsteps faded. I practically stumbled the rest of the way down, my pulse thundering in my ears. I found the real patrolling security guard downstairs, wearing a security uniform and holding a walkie-talkie. The walkie-talkie crackled with static—

"Zzz... Building 3, Apartment 1501... hammering nails zzz... neighbor reported, stop the noise."

The voice on the radio sounded exhausted, like someone who’d worked way too much overtime.

"Zzz... contacting maintenance staff."

"Contact failed."

Building 3 was right across from me.

Through the lobby glass, I could see Building 3—tall, red-brick, with flickering lights in the windows. I saw the lights in Apartment 1501 flicker, then suddenly go out. Then, a dim red glow filled the pitch-black room—strange and unsettling.

A shiver ran down my spine. The patrolling security guard clipped the walkie-talkie to his belt, saying nothing.

I swallowed and spoke up: "Hello... It’s eleven o’clock, I didn’t make it home..."

I tried to keep my voice even, but it cracked anyway. The guard’s face stayed blank.

"I know. I’ll take you through the emergency passage."

He was all business, cold, but that somehow made me feel safe.

He led me to a little door beside the building. It was a fire exit, but now there was an elevator inside.

I stared, confused, but he just gestured for me to follow.

"Which apartment?" The patrolling security guard tapped an electronic screen.

"502."

My voice barely squeaked out. He didn’t react, just kept working.

"Okay, when the elevator doors open, your home is directly ahead. Don’t look back, don’t look around, just go straight in."

He spoke in a monotone that made you want to obey. "Okay, got it."

Everything that just happened was too bizarre. I got it now—this wasn’t some prank.

I could still hear my own heartbeat as the elevator doors opened, and the patrolling security guard motioned for me to go in alone.

I seized the last chance: "Um... do you have any other advice?"

The patrolling security guard paused: "Follow the guidance of the real rules and play your role well."

The elevator doors closed in front of me.

I pulled up the previous messages I’d received.

[You are the father. No matter if you are male or female, young or old, you are the father.]

The words seemed to throb in the dark as the elevator rattled upward.