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🔞¹⁸⁺ | ᴺᵉʷ ᴬᵈᵘˡᵗ | ᴿᵒᵐᵃⁿᶜᵉ | ᴰʳᵃᵐᵃ
In the dark world of virtual horror, Choi Beomgyu, a well-known Twitch streamer, has his own battle to fight. But it's not a world of pixels and codes that haunt his nights - it's the real shadows t...
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I had been sitting in my stationary car for several minutes and had not yet been able to persuade myself to get out. So I let out a miserable sigh and took one last look at the piece of paper on the passenger seat.
It was the list of people invited to the reunion, which I had secretly taken from Soojin.
Beomgyu's name stood out, accompanied by an address that made my fingertips tingle. Curiosity drove me on, and I now found myself in the driveway of this mysterious address. That driveway was lined with tall trees that stretched their branches like protective arms across the path. The warm sunlight played between the leaves, bathing the scenery in a soft, green glow. A gravel path led past a well-tended garden where colorful flowers bloomed in all their glory.
The house itself radiated a certain serenity, worn by years. The façade bore traces of the time it had lived through - memories that were reflected in the fine cracks and the charm of days gone by. The warm brick and simple windows lent the house a timeless elegance.
Did Beomgyu still live with his parents?
Was this his parents' house or was he already living here alone?
With a nervous feeling in my chest, I finally got out of the car, followed the small path to the front door and was able to read the name 'Choi' on the doorbell.
Without further ado, I pressed it and waited patiently.
The door opened slowly and an older woman stood in front of me, her friendly smile revealing her surprise at my visit. Her eyes wandered from my face to the note in my hand. "Hello, can I help you?" she asked politely.
"Uh - ... is Beomgyu perhaps at home? I'm an old schoolmate," I decided to say and smiled just as friendly, even bowing to the lady, who was probably Beomgyu's mother.
My question seemed to confuse the woman even more and I briefly wondered if I had made a mistake with the address. But after a quick glance at the house number, I was definitely sure that I had come to the right place. Fortunately, the woman confirmed my assumption and smiled at me, this time less friendly and more forced. Perhaps a little sad too. "I'm sorry, my son no longer lives here," she told me.
