Harry wasn't sure Nik could help.
Not because Nik was foolish, but because some things were inherently unexplainable.
Still, Nik and his family were the only people Harry trusted without a doubt.
And what he had seen…
was too strange to keep to himself.
Maybe it was a hallucination.
Maybe the smell of something…
Maybe fatigue…
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. None of them were convincing.
Harry took a deep breath.
Calm… just tell it.
"Look… a few days ago, I went to buy meat…"
He paused.
Nik frowned. "Well? Keep going."
"On my way back home, a woman came from the opposite direction, passed by… and went into a deserted alley."
Nik said nothing.
"The same alley people say is haunted by a wandering spirit."
Nik raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
"Before she went inside… a paper fell from her."
Harry spoke quickly, as if pausing would make him doubt his own words.
"She was wearing a formal dress. Black. Long.
Here's the question… do formal dresses even have pockets? At least, I've never seen one."
Nik said softly, "Maybe it just fell from her hand."
"Then why didn't she notice? She didn't even turn back to look."
Harry clasped his hands together.
"I picked up the paper to return it… but when I looked up… it was gone."
"Gone? What do you mean gone?"
"It was like it melted into the ground."
Harry exhaled.
"I went into the alley. Saw the end. Saw its corners.
No one was there."
A brief silence fell between them.
"Then… my hand started hurting."
Nik sat up straight.
"The same hand the paper was in. Burning… deep."
Harry continued, "I opened the paper. There were some sentences written… in a strange language."
"What language?"
"At first, I thought it wasn't a language at all. Then I showed it to one of my old classmates. He said it was Persian."
Nik blinked. "Persian?"
"Yeah. But even he couldn't read it."
Harry laughed—a dry, hollow laugh.
"I went to the library. Looked up the words. Seven, eight books…"
He paused.
"In the end, only one sentence came out."
Nik said quietly, "What?"
Harry looked him straight in the eyes.
"We finally found you."
Silence.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly a violent, harsh coughing fit overtook him.
Nik jumped up in panic. "Hey! Harry! Are you okay?"
Harry couldn't answer.
Nik placed his hand on Harry's chest and firmly patted his back.
Harry's eyes were red. He was breathless.
After about a minute, the coughing stopped.
Harry panted.
"God… what just happened?"
Nik handed him a glass of water. "Calm down. Drink."
Harry drank it all. "I'm fine… don't worry."
But he knew he wasn't.
If we go into that alley…
If we investigate it again…
His mind worked faster than his tongue.
Harry lifted his head slowly and looked straight at Nik.
His gaze was different. Empty of humor.
Nik instinctively took a step back. "What is it?"
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"The alley."
Nik froze. "Are you crazy?"
"In a 200-meter alley, no one can disappear in five seconds."
"Harry…"
"Let's go."
Nik clenched his teeth. "My boss comes in three hours."
"Our work won't take more than two."
"And if a customer comes?"
"They always come."
A few seconds of silence.
"…Alright. I'll change my clothes."
The alley had no official name.
Some called it the "Spirit Alley."
Some called it the "Alley of Death."
They said those who entered never returned.
Even in the middle of the day, it was dark.
Water had gathered on the ground. Drops fell from twisted pipes.
Drip… drip… drip…
The pipes were so entangled they made your eyes dizzy.
Nik suddenly stopped. "Harry…"
"What?"
Nik pointed ahead. "What is that?"
To be continued…
Note: The "200-meter alley" doesn't actually exist. It used to be a 200-meter street, which was later divided into a series of connected alleys. That's why people call it the "200-meter alley."