The creak was soft.
So soft that, in any other place, it might have been mistaken for old wood settling under its own weight.
But here—
In this silent, abandoned village—
It was deafening.
Luo Yanxue froze at the threshold of the largest house.
The doorway yawned before him like a dark mouth, its interior swallowed by shadow. The fog outside had thinned, but inside, the light seemed unwilling to enter.
The human footprints ended right here.
Bare.
Small.
Fresh.
They did not continue beyond the door.
As if whoever had walked in… had never walked out.
His fingers tightened around the rusty knife. The leather-wrapped handle was rough against his palm, grounding him in reality.
This was not a horror story.
This was not a dream.
Whatever was inside could kill him.
He did not rush.
He shifted his weight slightly, angling his body so that only half of him was exposed to the doorway. His left hand touched the ring unconsciously, feeling the cool metal against his skin.
An escape.
One thought. One focus. And he could vanish into the grey world.
But he could not rely on it blindly.
What if something inside the house moved faster than his thoughts?
He inhaled slowly.
The air that came out of the house was… stale.
Not the dry, dusty smell of an abandoned building.
But the faint, heavy odor of something that still breathed.
Not a corpse.
Not rot.
Life.
Slow.
Quiet.
Hidden.
He took one step forward.
The floor creaked again.
The sound came from inside.
Not under his foot.
From deeper within the house.
Something had shifted its weight.
Listening.
A thin chill slid down his spine.
He forced himself to remain calm. Panic would only make noise, and noise would only invite attention.
"Hello?" he called softly, his voice controlled, almost gentle. "Is… anyone there?"
The word anyone felt strange on his tongue.
The silence stretched.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Then—
A faint sound.
Not a voice.
A soft, uneven breath.
Like air passing through a narrow throat.
Too quiet to be a healthy human.
Too controlled to be an animal.
His eyes narrowed.
The memory of the massive shadow in the forest flashed through his mind. That thing had breathed heavily, loudly, like a furnace.
This… was different.
Smaller.
Closer.
Smarter.
He stepped fully into the house.
Light from the doorway fell across a broken table, scattered bowls, and a layer of dust that had been disturbed recently.
Footprints.
Inside.
The same small, barefoot tracks led across the floor… and toward the back room.
A curtain of faded cloth hung there, barely concealing the darkness beyond.
The breathing came from behind it.
Luo Yanxue swallowed.
Every instinct screamed at him to retreat, to leave this place and never return.
But another instinct—quieter, sharper—whispered:
If you walk away now, you may never know what is hunting you.
And what you do not understand… will kill you when you least expect it.
He raised the knife slightly, not in threat, but in readiness.
Then, slowly, he reached out and grasped the edge of the curtain.
The cloth was cold and damp.
He pulled it aside.
The back room was small.
Bare.
And not empty.
A figure crouched in the corner.
Thin.
Small.
Human-shaped.
Long, tangled hair covered its face, hanging like a curtain of its own. Its body was wrapped in rags that might once have been clothes. Its arms were too thin, its shoulders too narrow, like those of a malnourished child.
But the way it breathed—
Slow.
Measured.
Almost deliberate—
Was not the breathing of a frightened child.
Luo Yanxue's heart pounded.
"Who are you?" he asked quietly.
The figure did not answer.
Its head tilted slightly.
As if listening to his heartbeat.
Then, very slowly, it lifted its face.
Hair slid aside.
Revealing eyes.
Not white.
Not black.
But a strange, dull amber, like old resin that had trapped something inside it for too long.
The pupils were narrow.
Not human.
The mouth opened.
And from it came a voice.
Soft.
Dry.
Cracked.
"…You… are warm…"
Luo Yanxue's blood turned cold.
Warm.
Not alive.
Not human.
Warm.
As if he were nothing more than a source of heat.
The figure shifted forward slightly, its movements smooth, almost boneless.
The breathing grew a little louder.
Closer.
His grip on the knife tightened, but his mind raced faster.
This was not the forest beast.
This was something else.
Something that walked on two legs.
Something that wore a human shape.
Something that had followed the trail of life… into a dead village.
The ring on his finger pulsed faintly.
Once.
As if responding to the presence in front of him.
The amber eyes flickered.
Its head snapped toward his hand.
Toward the ring.
A strange hunger surfaced in its gaze.
Not for flesh.
Not for blood.
But for something deeper.
Something within.
The thing smiled.
Its lips stretched too wide.
"…That light…" it whispered. "It smells… like a door…"
The air in the room seemed to thicken.
The shadows trembled.
And for the first time since entering this world, Luo Yanxue felt it clearly:
He was not being hunted for food.
He was being hunted for what he carried.
And whatever stood before him…
Knew the ring was not just a ring.
The creature took one step forward.
The floor did not creak.
As if its weight barely touched the ground.
"…Let me in," it murmured.
Not into the house.
Not into the village.
But into the world only he could enter.
Luo Yanxue's heart slammed against his ribs.
Behind him was the doorway.
Before him was something that should not exist.
And on his finger was a world that had just been discovered.
The creature's eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.
"…You don't know what you're carrying, do you?"
The ring grew warm.
Very warm.
As if answering.
And in the grey world within, deep beneath the dark soil, the sealed seam trembled.
Once.
As if something on the inside had heard the call.