Novel & Cerita Haunted Numbers

Date = 21 January A really really long fucking day. Place = San Francisco (Haunted house) POV - Damion They brought me here. To the haunted house. To Mel. Brick gives me the smallest wink before slamming the van door shut — a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of alliance. Then the van pulls away. And I’m standing between the two new escorts I’ve been handed over to. They look like someone tried to clone Homer Simpson but ran out of intelligence halfway through. Same doughy faces. Same vacant eyes. Just with more tattoos and worse hygiene.

Then suddenly— Her hands began shaking. 💔 Every page contained the same drawing. Again. And again. And again. 👁️ A silver eye. Hundreds of times. Drawn in different sizes. Different styles. Different angles. But always the same eye. 🌙 Aaira turned another page. Then another. Then another. And her fear grew. Because beside the eye, there was always a number. 3:13 😱 Every drawing. Every page. Every symbol. 3:13. 💀 ⸻

The possessive way he fucked me like he both hated and needed me. I forced a grin. “You’re crazy, man. You watch too many movies.” He stepped aside but whispered as I passed, “Run while you still can. He’ll ruin you.” Later that day, I overheard two employees gossiping near the cafeteria. “Did you hear about The Ghost? Some billionaire who shows up masked at underground parties. Pays good money, fucks like a demon, then vanishes. Nobody ever sees his face.” I laughed it off again. But deep inside of me, i was worried for myself.

The sight I saw is what already has, and what will haunt my slumbering hours for the rest of my life. The first thing I noticed were the dark pools of color across the sheets, illuminated by the moonlight trickling in from the window. Blood. There was blood EVERYWHERE. I withdrew the sheets with trembling hands and fell to my knees in despair when my father’s severed head rolls from the bed with the disruption of the sheets, making a loud thud. My hands hover over his cheeks, shaking with waves of tears and hiccupped sobs. My eyes trace over his features as if there was any possible hope, this wasn’t real. He looked peaceful at least, murdered without even waking up I suspect. His neck is se

The rotors beat a heavy, rhythmic thumpthat vibrated in my teeth, making my ribs ache in sympathy. "You're sure about this?" Armano shouted over the noise. He was wearing a heavy, fur-lined parka over his uniform, making him look like a very aggressive bear that had just robbed a sporting goods store. "The coordinates Cian gave us are literally in the Dead Zone. No radar, no radio support, and according to local legend, the area is haunted by the ghosts of sailors who had the misfortune of eating the clams."

I stayed silent. "The apartment where she had that accident was a company unit assigned to her," Stan said. "It's been empty ever since the accident. Later, the company wanted to take the place back, but the staff they sent over all got badly spooked. Over time, rumors that the place was haunted started to spread." He looked at me, his gaze sharpening. "But that changed when you showed up. When I first saw your rental address, I was shocked. I honestly thought you'd be running out of there in tears within three days. But you didn't.

Unknown number. "1.6.2.6.1.7.1.5.2.0.1.7.1.8." My blood ran cold. I stared at the screen, my heart pounding. It was a series of numbers I couldn't recognize from anywhere, but somehow it made me feel like something bigger was happening and that I was being constantly watched.

I shook it off and turned back to my laptop, typing relentlessly, trying to focus on anything except the way Lucien Vale made a room feel smaller just by existing. Then I felt it. A presence. Close. Too close. The air shifted behind me, warm and charged, and before I could turn around, a voice—low, rough, intimate—whispered directly into my ear. "Seven." I froze. Pure, undiluted horror crashed through me. My fingers locked on the keyboard. My breath stopped. The world tilted sideways. Seven. The number the entity had carved into my soul. The number that marked me. The years I had left. The bargain I'd made in the void with something ancient and terrible that had no right to exist.

Whoever did it had been merciless. People began whispering that the dungeon boss was sending a warning. I kept my head down. Victor had told me to sleep in his room the night before, but he never came back all night. I didn't tell anyone. After all, someone had just been killed, and everyone was on edge. One veteran even pulled out a rare item called the Specter Scanner, which could detect monsters. My heart nearly stopped. I might look human, but underneath, I was still a monster.