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墨書 Inktalez
Time seemed to stretch endlessly, pulled taut by the rumbling of the washing machine. The sound was deep and continuous, like countless invisible threads tugging at your nerves in your mind. You stared at the countdown display on the machine—59 minutes and 48 seconds, then 59 minutes and 47 seconds... The numbers flickered slowly, a deliberate torment that made you unable to keep your gaze fixed.
The thirst in your throat grew sharper, as if something searing was scraping against your windpipe. "I need to find a way to solve this," you murmured to yourself, your voice hoarse to the point of being unrecognizable. Then, suddenly, you remembered—the break room; there should be a Beverage Machine there. Perhaps you could find some water, even just a sip would be better than waiting here.
You dragged your feet, your legs feeling as heavy as lead. As you left the Laundry Room, you glanced back; the washing machines continued their roar, water and clothes swirling behind the glass, bubbles occasionally crashing against the surface like invisible hands slapping at the glass. Shaking your head, you quickened your pace down the corridor, trying to shake off the unease that clung to your mind.
The corridor was dimly lit, the old paintings on the walls appearing even more blurred. Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, the creaking of the wooden floorboards seemed to remind you of some hidden presence. However, just as you passed the third door, you abruptly stopped.
Not far ahead, a figure stood at the end of the corridor. It was a silhouette—a familiar one. The person wore a dark coat and stood at the boundary of light and shadow, seemingly gazing intently at something on the wall with their head slightly bowed. The contours of their form were softened yet obscured by the yellowish light, prompting you to blink rapidly to ensure this wasn’t an illusion.
A wave of inexplicable joy surged within you—so you weren’t the only occupant here. Someone else was present! This thought brought a flicker of comfort, even lightening your steps a little.
“Hi!” you greeted softly, your voice laced with unconscious delight. Although your words were nearly swallowed by the corridor's emptiness, the figure seemed to hear you and slightly tilted their head as if consciously responding.
You quickened your pace again, warmth and anticipation rising in your chest—having someone else in this lonely and eerie hotel brought more reassurance than anything else could. “Wait a moment,” you called out again, this time with slightly more urgency.
Yet the figure remained unmoving, still standing in place. You could feel their presence so vividly real yet strangely unsettling, as if they didn’t quite fit within this space—like a prop deliberately placed within a scene, an ornament that would never shift.
As you drew closer, that sense of familiarity intensified, tinged with an unsettling déjà vu. Your steps slowed involuntarily while your heartbeat quickened as if something deep within was whispering warnings: Don’t get too close; don’t go any further.
But still, you couldn’t help but approach because they stood there like a lighthouse in darkness. You told yourself that there shouldn’t be just you alone here. There were other guests who followed those rules just like you, seeking some semblance of safety in this place. It had to be true. It had to be.
Just as you were about to step into that boundary of light and shadow, the figure suddenly moved. Their shoulder twitched slightly as if they were about to turn around. But you halted abruptly; an inexplicable chill shot up your spine from your feet.
The person finally turned around, moving slowly as if pulling back an invisible curtain. His face gradually emerged from the shadows, the light gliding over his forehead and nose, ultimately settling on his eyes that were fixed on you.
It was a... unfamiliar face? No, familiar? No, that sense of familiarity felt wrong. It shouldn’t belong to anyone you knew, yet it resembled a shadow from some deep memory, lingering in your dreams, hallucinations, or even a forgotten moment. You couldn’t help but furrow your brow, desperately searching for answers in your mind, but the more you thought, the more elusive it became.
His gaze briefly met yours, his pupils constricting slightly as if he simultaneously registered surprise and wariness. The expression on his face... was it astonishment? Tension? Or something deeper? You couldn’t tell; all you felt was that his breathing seemed more hurried than yours. Those eyes were locked onto you, as if scrutinizing something while also concealing something else.
Still, you raised your hand in a friendly gesture and smiled, saying, "Hello." Your tone was casual, attempting to ease the inexplicable tension.
He paused for a moment, his brow slightly furrowing, his gaze flickering like light on water, making it hard to decipher his thoughts. After a few seconds, he managed a stiff nod as if responding out of politeness, but the motion was too rigid, like a mechanical joint long unused, lacking the fluidity it should have had.
This reaction made you feel somewhat uncomfortable. Was your greeting too abrupt? Or perhaps too loud? You reasoned that this was a hotel; he might just be another weary guest like you, caught off guard by an unexpected conversation. You smiled again and lowered your head, trying to mask the unease stirring within you.
Strangely enough, his gaze didn’t waver. That look felt like a thin needle gently pricking at your back; even without looking at him, you could sense it. The moment of silence thickened the air between you two as if every inch of space was filled with an invisible pressure.
“Sorry if I startled you,” you instinctively said, trying to lighten the mood. Your voice echoed down the corridor but felt so out of place, like an ill-timed stone dropping into still water.
He nodded again but this time quicker, his eyes avoiding yours as if he didn’t want you to see what lay hidden beneath them. Then he hurriedly turned his head away and took a step in another direction as if attempting to end this awkward stare.
“Uh... well then... have a nice day,” you managed to say with a forced smile, unconsciously gripping the wall beside you. Your smile was light, but when it landed before him, it shattered the calm like a mirror breaking. His shoulders twitched slightly as his footsteps quickly faded into the shadows of the corridor.
You stood there watching his figure gradually disappear, feeling an indescribable sensation rise within you. Was it relief because you confirmed there were indeed other people around? Or some kind of nameless unease? That face—both familiar and strange—and those unnaturally tense eyes felt like an unsolved puzzle quietly burrowing into your mind.
The corridor returned to silence; the only sounds were your own breathing and the distant rumble of a washing machine.
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