It was nothing like what I had imagined.
"Shhhh…!"
A faint sound—like dry autumn leaves scraping across stone—suddenly echoed through the silent corridor.
I snapped my eyes open. So did the others.
It wasn't the painting of the little girl that had changed.
It was the other paintings lining the corridor like empty gravestones—the ones that, moments ago, displayed pale, unknown faces with closed eyes.
"No… what is this?!" Leo von Falkenhayn gasped, his good hand rising to cover part of his mouth, his steel-blue eyes wide.
The pale, closed-eyed faces on those canvases began to fade, slowly dissolving into the fabric itself.
As if a dense gray fog was devouring them from within—erasing them from existence.
And in their place, with a slow, nauseating transformation, new faces began to emerge.
Familiar faces.
Terrifyingly familiar.
They were our faces.
"What… what the hell is this?!" Noor cried, her voice trembling as she staggered back into Sam Owens behind her.
Sam's body shook uncontrollably, his thick glasses nearly slipping off his nose.
On every canvas along the endless, oppressive corridor, a distorted, horrifying reflection of one of us now stared back.
Leo's face—stern as always—but with completely hollow eyes, like bottomless pits.
Noor's face—her lips twisted open unnaturally, her wide eyes filled with something indescribably wrong.
Sam's face—a deep shadow stretching from his eyes like a wound bleeding darkness.
And my face…
Or rather, the original Adam's.
That cold, crooked smile—twisted with a malice too vile to describe.
As if a demon had borrowed Adam's features to announce its arrival.
My blood ran cold. The air left my lungs.
This wasn't just reflection.
There was something… alive. Something malicious in those painted eyes staring directly at us.
Reflections… cursed copies watching our every move, I thought, my stomach twisting with nausea.
[What you do not see may be more important than what you do.]
Did that mean we were meant to see ourselves as ghosts? As souls doomed to remain here forever if we failed?
This was worse than any nightmare—more terrifying than any monster I could imagine.
Then, amid the suffocating dread threatening to swallow me whole, my gaze was pulled—irresistibly—back to the girl's painting.
It hadn't changed.
Or so I thought.
Her innocent face, eyes still closed… unchanged.
But something else had.
Something that made every hair on my body stand on end.
"Ding… ding… ding…"
From beneath her tightly shut eyelids, something began to flow.
Slowly.
Thickly.
Blood.
Dark, viscous, crimson tears—like fresh blood seeping from the eyes of a corpse.
"Oh… my God…" Noor gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
I couldn't blame her.
The sight was surreal—horrifying beyond words.
A grotesque blend of innocence defiled and pure, inescapable terror.
We stood frozen.
Helpless.
The bloody tears traced slow, crimson lines down the girl's pale cheeks, staining her marble-like skin.
Then…
Her hand moved.
Slowly.
Not abruptly—but like a disturbing, deliberate glide across the canvas.
The same small hand that had been pointing upward…
Stopped.
And shifted.
It was no longer pointing up.
It was pointing…
At me.
Directly at me.
At Adam Lister.
Her small, pale finger—stained with those impossible tears—aimed straight at my chest.
As if choosing me.
I froze.
My breath caught.
My heart seemed to stop.
Everything else faded.
There was only the painting…
That hand…
That gesture, heavy with meaning.
"Adam…" Leo whispered, barely audible, his voice tense.
Then—without warning—
The painting that held my distorted reflection began to glow.
A dim, ominous red.
Like a dying ember flaring to life.
Or the heartbeat of something demonic awakening inside it.
Cold—unbearable, absolute—spread through my body.
Colder than anything I had felt before.
Even colder than facing the Pale entity.
The painted version of my face began to pulse with that red light.
The smile… widened.
Twisted further.
Hungrier.
"What a disgusting smile…" I muttered.
Then I felt it.
A pull.
Invisible.
Sticky.
Unstoppable.
Like unseen spider threads wrapping around me—dragging me toward the painting.
Toward that mouth forming where the smile had been.
A mouth that looked like a gateway to hell.
To an endless void.
This is bad. This is very bad.
Run.
Fight it.
Resist.
"Don't go near it, Adam! Get back!" Leo's voice reached me—faint, distant.
Too late.
The pull intensified.
My feet moved on their own.
I tried to resist—to anchor myself to the cracked wooden floor—to scream—
But my body no longer obeyed me.
My limbs grew heavy, like molten lead.
My mind spiraled between confusion and terror.
"What… what the hell is happening to me?!" I shouted, my voice shaking with panic as the painting drew closer—
Or rather, as I was dragged toward it like iron to a magnet.
Toward that waiting darkness.
"Adam! Come back!" Noor screamed, reaching out for me.
Too far.
Leo and Sam tried too—
But it was useless.
The force was absolute.
Unstoppable.
Damn it…
This is bad.
As I reached the painting—
Its surface rippled.
What had been solid canvas turned fluid.
Like a gateway.
Like fog.
The twisted smile on my painted face stretched wide—
Becoming a gaping, endless mouth.
Darkness swallowed me.
And the last thing I heard…
Were my teammates' terrified screams fading into nothing.
…
…
…
"Adam!!!"
Noor's scream tore through the silence like a blade.
It echoed off the empty frames—then faded, leaving only shock and dread behind.
The canvas that had swallowed Adam moments ago was now blank.
Pale.
Empty.
Leo von Falkenhayn felt the wooden floor beneath him tremble—or perhaps it was just his body shaking.
For a moment, he could only stare.
At the spot where Adam had stood.
Now… nothing.
The pain in his torn arm throbbed violently—but it was nothing compared to what he had just witnessed.
It swallowed him… the painting swallowed him whole… right in front of me…
The thought spun wildly in his mind.
This was beyond anything he had ever faced.
Training.
Stories.
Nothing came close to this.
Noor rushed forward, her trembling hands pressing against the canvas.
"Adam! Adam, can you hear me?! Answer me!" she cried.
Silence.
"Bang!"
She pounded her fists against it—but it was like striking solid stone.
Sam stood frozen—like a statue.
Eyes wide behind his glasses.
Mouth slightly open, as if trying to scream—but unable to.
Shock had stolen everything from him.
Damn it… damn this cursed place! Leo roared internally, fighting the rising panic.
They had lost another teammate.
In a way he couldn't even comprehend.
And he—
He was the leader.
This was his responsibility.
Even injured.
Even broken.
He pressed his wound, forcing himself to think.
He had to act.
"Calm down, Noor! Stop hitting it—it won't help!" he said firmly, though his voice trembled.
He pulled her back.
"Anger won't bring him back. We need to think. We need a way—any way."
"But what can we do?!" Noor cried.
"It swallowed him! Like a monster!"
"I know," Leo said, forcing composure.
"But maybe… he's still inside. Somewhere. And maybe… there's a way to reach him."
Then—
The girl's painting.
The one crying blood.
The one that had pointed.
"...The girl," Leo muttered.
He turned toward it.
Her face remained the same.
Closed eyes.
Bloody tears.
And her hand…
Still pointing.
Now toward the empty space where Adam had stood.
As if mocking them.
Or guiding them.
"What if… we need to interact with her first?" Noor said hesitantly.
It was risky.
But they had no choice.
"I'll try," Leo said.
He stepped forward.
Raised his hand.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He stopped just short of touching her eye.
As if trying to wipe away the blood.
Or comfort her.
"We're here… we see your pain," he whispered.
"If there's anything we can do… to help you—or our friend… please… show us the way."
Silence.
Nothing.
No change.
No response.
"…Damn it!" Leo stepped back, frustration crushing him.
"No use…" Noor whispered.
"There has to be another way!" Leo snapped, slamming his fist into the wall.
They searched.
Desperately.
Noor used [Spatial Echo Resonance] again and again—nothing.
Sam tried [Localized Shadow Obscuration]—nothing.
Leo touched the paintings.
All of them.
Cold.
Solid.
Unresponsive.
He spoke to the girl again.
Louder.
Softer.
Angrier.
Nothing.
Just silence.
That innocent face.
Those bleeding tears.
That hand…
Still pointing.
Time passed.
Hope faded.
They were trapped.
A missing teammate in an unknown world.
A wounded leader barely holding on.
And no idea what to do next.
There is no exit… Leo thought bitterly, staring at the blank canvas that had swallowed Adam.