The reporters had swarmed the property like a plague of locusts, barricading every exit until I felt more like a prisoner than a man simply trying to lay low. For days, I'd been locked inside the walls of this damned house, and the isolation had twisted my reflection into something that looked guilty—even if I'd done nothing wrong. Still, there was a strange calm to the seclusion… at first.
But silence has a way of turning heavy. After the third day, the quiet was so thick I could hear the steady thud of my own heartbeat echoing through the empty rooms. Too quiet, I thought, shivering despite the warm air. Quiet enough for ghosts to hide in. And I hated ghosts more than anything.
"Ghosts? Nah, they aren't real,"
I muttered aloud, trying to laugh off the chill creeping up my spine. "As if they could actually lay a hand on me."
The words were barely out of my mouth when a scraping sound cut through the stillness. From the kitchen—a chair moving on its own. I jolted so hard I tumbled off the couch, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor. Why am I scared? I'm a grown man! I cursed at myself, pushing to my feet and stalking toward the kitchen to prove there was a logical explanation.
But the chair was unmistakably shifted several feet from the table. No draft could do that. No pet. No hidden trick.
"Uh… hello? Is someone here?"
My voice cracked, and I took a step back as if expecting something to leap out at me.
Then came the crash. A ceramic cup on the counter toppled over and shattered into a hundred sharp pieces at my feet. It was as if an invisible hand had shoved it. Panic flared in my chest as a memory surfaced—something I'd been told when I'd first taken shelter here.
"The owner ten years ago was a serial killer. Tortured his victims in these walls. They say the place is haunted."
I'd dismissed it as nonsense then. Now, my skin prickled with dread. Before I could process it further, a low voice breathed right against my ear:
"Yeonghon."
I flinched and spun around, stumbling backward in my haste. My foot hovered just above a shard of glass—when a figure lunged forward and caught my arm, yanking me to safety.
"Mr. Riven!?"
"You almost stepped on that," he said, his eyes scanning the mess around us with a frown. "What happened here?"
I led him to the spare room, my hands shaking as I described the moving furniture, the crashing cup, the voice. To my relief, Riven didn't laugh it off—he simply nodded, his jaw tight with concern.
That's when the door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Night had fallen without me noticing, and the lights flickered once… twice… then died completely. The only illumination came from the distant city glow streaming through the window, painting the room in cold blue shadows.
"What the hell!"
I hissed under my breath. Even with Riven here, the feeling of being watched was overwhelming. Outside, rain began to pound against the glass, followed by a rumble of thunder that shook the walls. Is this some kind of horror story?
Riven spoke then, but his voice was wrong—deeper, rougher, nothing like the calm tone I'd grown used to. I couldn't see his face; the city lights cast him in silhouette, his form rigid as he faced me.
"Yeonghon."
I froze. That's not Riven.
"Y-yeah? Why… why are you calling me that like that?" Sweat beaded on my forehead, sliding down my temple.
Silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. He stood perfectly still, a dark shape in the darkness. Thunder roared again, and for a split second, lightning lit up the room—revealing his face. His expression was twisted, intense… obsessed, almost.
"Riven? Talk to me," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Mhm? I am talking," he replied, his voice hoarse and menacing now. He took a step closer, and I stumbled back until my shoulders hit the wall. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip iron-tight, and smiled—a slow, unsettling curve of his lips that made my skin crawl. This isn't Riven. Who the hell is this?
"Yeonghon right? You already know who I am. I can see it in your eyes."
"Then tell me!" I shouted, shoving at his chest with all my strength. "Who are you!?"
He threw his head back and laughed—a harsh, grating sound that echoed like nails on a chalkboard.
"Oh, Yeonghon… you really don't remember me. I suppose I'll have to jog your memory."
My mind raced. Traveling from the past… I wouldn't know anyone here. But then it hit me—two years ago, before I'd been pulled through time, there'd been a man who'd followed me everywhere. A civilian who'd been caught stalking me and sent to jail. But how did he get out?
"Wondering how I escaped?" he purred, as if reading my thoughts. I went rigid. Did he just—?
"I Awakened," he continued, his grip tightening. "Discovered I have abilities. Mind control… and shifting into anyone I want."
Dread coiled in my stomach. God really gave this freak powers?
"Yeonghon," he said, his voice softening into something sickeningly sweet. "We can leave here together. Start a family."
Men can't have kids, you idiot! I raged inwardly. And I'd never—never—be with someone like you!
He leaned in until his face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. I could admit, even then, that he was handsome—sharp features, strong jaw—but his obsession turned everything appealing into something repulsive.
Before I could stop myself, my hand shot up and slapped him hard across the face. The crack echoed in the small room.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" I yelled.
He only smirked, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. Shit. I'd acted without thinking—and he was stronger than me. B-rank, with mind control. I'd just sealed my own fate.
"Yeonghon… if you won't listen willingly, I'll have to use my ability," he murmured, pulling me into a crushing hug I couldn't escape.
I forced my voice to stay steady. "Y-yeah… okay."
I just needed to buy time. Wait until the real Riven found us. But his expression darkened instantly, and before I could react, his hand slammed against the back of my head. The world spun, then went black.
To be continued..