Severn arrived at the abandoned town after hours of walking in deadly silence.

  The ruined houses around him were like twisting ghosts in the quiet of death, watching lifelessly.

  But there, amidst the ruins, stood a single house tall and proud, as if newly built, radiating a strange coldness.

  The fog curled around his feet like fangs waiting for their prey.

  He approached cautiously and stood before the old wooden door, his hands trembling.

  — “Perhaps… this is it.” He muttered softly.

  He knocked violently, but no response.

  He opened the door slowly, feeling an icy chill pierce his spine.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him; the silence inside was heavy as a grave.

  He raised his voice to confess his sin, but found it trapped, echoing within the walls of silence.

  On the wall, a writing in dark red:

  “Do not scream your sin. Do not speak of it.

  If you wish to face it… enter the room.”

  He moved toward the marked room, his hand shaking from the fear of the unknown.

  The door smmed behind him like a prison locking him in.

  Inside was cold and bare: a single bed, and above it a phrase:

  “Lie down… close your eyes… and remember your sin.”

  He had no choice. He y down and closed his eyes.

  Images of his deeds pyed in his mind, a deep pain leaking from his core.

  Suddenly, the sound of a vase shattering pierced the room’s silence.

  He opened his eyes abruptly to find the room had stretched—the walls receding, and the door wide open.

  Cautiously, he stepped out to find himself inside an abandoned hotel, endless corridors and numbered rooms stretching infinitely.

  Thick fog obscured the windows, making the pce feel like a living nightmare.

  Then he heard a sound—not human footsteps, but a rustling, a restless movement… something approaching.

  He drew near room 44, the door tightly shut.

  Moved on to room 45, the sound growing louder, closer.

  His hand trembled violently as he slowly opened the door.

  He saw the creature.

  A deformed body, burnt skin as if consumed by fire, bound hand and foot to an old chair.

  It lifted its head and looked at him with sad eyes—a gaze mirroring Severn’s own pain.

  It screamed in cryptic words, tears streaming down its scarred face.

  Suddenly, it lunged at him.

  Severn fell to the ground, his heart staggering with fear.

  The creature behind him screamed and moved violently, like a wild beast.

  He shut the door behind them, but the creature’s cries continued until its head smmed against the wood, making a deep crack.

  Desperately searching for something to defend himself, he found a rusty baseball bat.

  He gripped it tightly.

  The door burst open and the creature entered, roaring like a beast.

  Severn struck with all his might, a direct blow to the head.

  The creature colpsed, blood flowing from its wound, yet it did not resist.

  Its eyes wept bitterly with deep sorrow.

  Severn stood confused, staring at the floor, whispering:

  — “Why… are you crying?”

  He wiped the bat with an old rag and left, knowing this pce was far from normal.

  As he walked down the corridor, he heard a man shouting behind a closed door:

  — “What do you want from me?! You deserved that!!”

  Silence returned swiftly, and the voice vanished.

  He reached a massive staircase, the way down firmly sealed.

  He looked up with tired eyes, sighed slowly:

  — “No choice… but to go up.”

  He climbed upward, the fog surrounding him from every side.