On the second floor, there was one room Arman hadn't opened.
The landlord had said, "Storage. Nothing important."
But something about it felt wrong.
The door had three locks.
Three.
On the third night, the footsteps returned.
But this time, they didn't stop at his bedroom.
They went upstairs.
Toward the locked room.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Then—
Scratch.
Like fingernails dragging slowly across wood.
Arman grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight. His hands trembled.
He stepped into the hallway.
Cold air hit him.
The upstairs corridor was darker than usual. The fog outside pressed against the windows.
And then he saw it.
The door to the locked room.
One of the three locks was hanging open.
He was sure it had been closed.
Sure.
Suddenly—
BANG.
Something slammed against the inside of the door.
Arman stumbled backward.
Another bang.
The entire door shook violently.
"Who's there?!" he shouted, his voice cracking.
Silence.
Then—
A whisper.
Soft. Close. Right behind him.
"Let me out…"
Arman spun around.
No one.
The hallway was empty.
But the lock… slowly… clicked back into place.
By itself.