Nobela ni Rahmat Ry

Siron’s scream echoed in the silent apartment, but no one came. No neighbor knocked on the door, no shouts in reply. It was as if his apartment had been cut off from the outside world, becoming an isolated box inhabited only by him and... that thing.He squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to look toward the window or the corner of the room again. His body trembled uncontrollably. "It's not real, it's not real," he mumbled repeatedly, a mantra whose power was quickly weakening.Then, the sound started.Ckk... ckk... ckk...A scratching sound. Soft, but distinct. Like long nails being scraped across a wooden surface. It was coming from somewhere inside the apartment.Siron opened his eyes, his breath held tight. He listened carefully.Ckk... ckk... ckk...It was coming from the direction of... the wall next to his bedroom. Exactly across from where he had seen the red dots earlier.He scrambled away from the kitchen, into the living room, hiding behind the sofa. He pulled the blanket lyi

The elevator door finally closed completely, cutting off the view of the peeking black horn tip. Siron slid to the elevator floor, his breath ragged, his body trembling uncontrollably. The lift smoothly continued its journey down to the lobby, as if it had never paused on the dark 3rd floor.He didn't remember how he got to the lobby, walked past the security guard with a blank stare, or reached the bustling street. His mind contained only one thing: escape. He walked aimlessly, finally stopping at a brightly lit 24-hour café filled with a few people. He ordered the strongest coffee and sat at the furthest table from the window, facing the door.The cold touch on the back of his neck still felt like an icy residue. He continuously rubbed the area, trying to get rid of the terrifying sensation that lingered. It was not his imagination. Something, or someone, had touched him.He spent hours in the café, staring at the door whenever someone entered, terrified of seeing a tall figure with

The library attendant with his trolley passed exactly between Siron and the figure, breaking the terrifying eye contact. For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Siron's view was blocked by the stacks of books and the whistling attendant's back.He didn't think twice. A surge of wild adrenaline pushed him to move. He scrambled backward, then turned and bolted, leaving the book about Morat lying on the floor. He didn't dare look behind him. His footsteps hammered on the silent marble floor, echoing his panic.He fled down the corridor, burst through the library exit, and kept running until he was outside the campus building. The blazing midday sun offered no warmth at all. His chest was tight; every shadow cast by the trees seemed ready to reach out and choke him.He is real. It wasn't a hallucination.The thought pulsed in his head, wiping away all lingering doubt. Morat was there. In the library. Only a few meters away.The entire journey back to the apartment, Siron felt that e

"LITTLE...SIAN..."The whisper echoed inside his head, cold and foreign, yet feeling incredibly personal. Siron let out a small yelp and buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the horrific sound and vision. When he dared to look back at the mirror, there was nothing left. Only his pale, wild-eyed face remained, the strange handprints on the shower glass having vanished.That night was a living nightmare. He couldn't sleep; every ordinary sound, the creak of a pipe, the hum of the refrigerator, the night wind, made him jump in terror. He turned on every light in the apartment, sitting on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around him, his eyes glued to the bathroom door. The word "Sian" spun in his mind. It was his childhood nickname, something only his family knew. Something his own hallucination shouldn't possibly know.The next morning, Siron went to Aethifolt campus with a weak body and dark circles under his eyes. The bright, bustling outside world felt like a blessing, yet

With an unconscious reflex, Siron narrowed his body to the side, dodging the impact and the shattered glass that should have scattered. His breath hitched, his heart pounding hard enough to ache. But the sound he heard wasn't shattering glass; it was the quiet gurgle of the shower, which was still running.He opened his eyes, which he had squeezed shut.There was no broken glass.No claw.The shower glass was still intact, smooth, and misted with warm vapor. Only steam and silence filled the room. It was as if the event of a moment ago had been nothing more than an incredibly vivid hallucination."Oh, God..." Siron hissed, his hand trembling as he pressed against his still-thumping chest. "I'm... I'm severely stressed."He forced himself to take the shower, the warm water washing over his cold body. Every hair on his skin was still standing on end. He kept glancing at the glass, half-hoping and half-fearing something would appear again. But no. Everything was normal. Too normal.When

“Absolutely not, Mom! I’m not going back to that temple!”Siron leaned his back against the wall of his quiet apartment, trying to make his voice sound firm even though his heart was pounding. The phone conversation with his parents had been going on for twenty minutes, and the core message was always the same: a protective ritual at the family temple.“Don’t be stubborn, Ron! You know this is important” his mother’s voice trembled with worry on the other end.“What’s important? Doing strange things to ward off a ‘curse’ from a ‘shifter’ who died thousands of years ago?” Siron cut in, his voice filled with his typical sarcastic drawl. “Morat? That’s just a character from a bedtime story. I’m an adult; I don’t believe in that stuff.”He let out a long sigh, his eyes gazing at the blank ceiling of his apartment. “Besides, I’m busy. College has started. I need to prepare.”“I don’t want you staying alone overnight in that apartment” this time, his father’s voice took over, heavy with a p