"Actually, I've had something weird happen to me too—back in school," F, who had been quietly listening, suddenly spoke up. He hesitated, scratching his head awkwardly. "Though, I don’t know if it really counts."

  With a little encouragement from the group, he decided to share his story.

  Story 3 —— F's Story

  The boys' dormitory where F lived always had a strong, lively energy. But perhaps for that very reason, the school had planted massive banyan trees along one side, their thick branches and dense leaves blocking out sunlight completely.

  The dormitory had communal restrooms, and the one on F’s floor was located right under the heavy shade of those trees.

  One evening, just before heading out for dinner with his friends, F stopped by the restroom. The sky had just darkened, and the lights had only recently flickered on.

  Speaking of those restroom lights—whoever had designed them had placed all the bulbs at the sharp angles where the walls met the ceiling. The light hit the walls at strange angles, casting eerie shadows. Worse yet, when a bulb burned out, it always took ages before anyone bothered to replace it.

  F finished his business, stood up, and was just adjusting his clothes when his gaze landed on the door.

  There was a shadow.

  Something about it felt… off. The overhead lighting should have cast his shadow only halfway up the door, given the angle. But what he saw wasn’t normal—his shadow stretched unnaturally high, almost reaching the top of the stall door.

  For that to happen… the person casting it would have to be taller than the stall itself. Or—

  F didn’t allow himself to think any further. He yanked the door open and bolted out. From that day on, he never used that stall again.

  "There were never any ghost stories about that restroom," F admitted. "So I might have just imagined it. But it stuck with me. Ever since that night, every time I used the restroom, I’d check my shadow. I never saw anything strange again. But that night… I know what I saw. It was too tall."

  Two of the girls immediately launched into a discussion about what could have caused it—maybe the shadow of something hanging from the ceiling, or a ghost hovering silently behind F. Their speculation was even scarier than the story itself.

  Finally, the train’s lights went out, plunging the compartment into darkness.

  A few startled screams rang through the compartment, but soon, laughter followed. The university students chuckled at their own reactions, shaking their heads. I climbed up to my bunk, satisfied with the eerie stories shared that night. But just as I was settling in, Q called out to me from the opposite middle bunk.

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  "What about you? Did anything strange ever happen to you back in school?"

  Caught off guard, I hesitated. I searched my memories, but my mind came up blank.

  "I don't remember," I admitted.

  "Then think about it and tell us tomorrow," Q said.

  Almost immediately, two others, who had seemingly been half-asleep, suddenly chimed in with agreement. I smiled wryly at their enthusiasm and let the rhythmic sway of the train lull me to sleep. And in the hazy realm between wakefulness and slumber, I felt something stir in the depths of my mind—an old memory, long buried.

  The next morning, knowing there was no need to wake early, I lazily climbed down from my bunk around noon. The two older women who had been sharing our compartment were already gone. That meant I would be facing the trio of university students alone.

  Sure enough, the moment I turned around, I found the three of them sitting in a perfect row, grinning at me expectantly. Sometimes, dealing with overly curious students was just as troublesome as dodging nosy relatives asking about marriage plans.

  Under their watchful gaze, I grabbed a quick bite to eat, cleared my throat, and decided to share the story that had resurfaced in my mind overnight.

  Story 4 —— My Story

  I had never been the most well-behaved student. By university, while most of my peers spent their days obediently attending classes and staying within the dormitory rules, I was already juggling part-time jobs and skipping lectures to explore the world beyond campus.

  This story took place during one of my summer vacations.

  During the break, the university dormitories were officially closed, but after returning from a trip, I found myself completely out of money. With no budget left for a hotel or hostel, I had no choice but to sneak back into my dorm room through the window. There was still a week left before the new semester started, and I figured that since the entire building was practically empty, no one would notice me hiding there.

  I was wrong.

  Although staying in the dorm was free, there was one major downside—the electricity had been cut off for the summer.

  By eight in the evening, the building was already pitch black. I made do with my phone's flashlight to finish eating and washing up. But before long, my phone’s battery began to die. Left with no other option, I climbed into bed and switched to using my laptop to pass the time.

  I knew the laptop wouldn’t last much longer either, so by ten o’clock, I decided it was best to sleep early and figure out a way to charge my devices in the morning.

  The dormitory was unnervingly silent, amplifying every little sound. The rustling leaves outside, the occasional passing car, the steady drip of a faucet somewhere in the building—all of it was crystal clear in the absence of human activity.

  Just as I was beginning to drift off, I heard it.

  Footsteps.

  Soft at first, barely noticeable.

  Tap… tap… tap… tap…

  Bare feet. Someone walking in the corridor.

  Tap… tap… tap… tap…

  The sound grew louder, closer, more distinct.

  Tap… tap… tap… TAP! TAP!

  The pace quickened, the footsteps becoming urgent. I jolted awake, sitting up in bed, my eyes darting toward the door.

  At first, I thought it might be one of the dorm supervisors making their rounds. But something about the sound wasn’t right. It wasn’t the heavy, measured steps of a middle-aged dorm warden checking for rule-breakers. No—this was different. Lighter. Faster. As if someone was running barefoot down the hall.

  And then, the footsteps stopped.

  Right outside my door.

  The silence was deafening. In my mind’s eye, I could picture a pair of bare feet standing just beyond the threshold.

  I waited.

  I waited for the sound of footsteps leaving, for a knock, for anything that would indicate someone was actually there.

  Nothing.

  I barely slept that night, lying awake and listening, straining my ears for any sign of movement. But the footsteps never resumed. The next morning, at the first sign of daylight, I packed up my things and climbed out the window again. I spent the rest of the week couch-surfing at my friends' places, unwilling to step foot in that dorm again until the semester officially began.

  "That… was pretty creepy," F said after a moment of silence.

  "Got any more?" Q asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

  I shook my head, glancing at the time. "We’ll be arriving in about an hour. You should start getting ready."

  At last, at 1:30 PM, the train pulled into W City.

  "The Footsteps Above"... it's about to get chilling.