Ghost Behind You

1.01. Strange Death

"Gary! Can you hurry up? Everyone's about to leave!" Mary Li shouted from outside the bathroom door. "Every time we're about to head out, that's when you decide you need to use the bathroom. It's so frustrating!"

"You go ahead. Tell them to wait a bit; I'll be done soon," Gary Ma called out, his voice muffled by the door.

"Alright, just hurry up. I'm going—don't forget to lock the door." Mary said as she left the hotel room, the sound of the door slamming behind her echoed down the hallway. The sharp clack of her high heels on the marble floor slowly faded away.

"Nagging me even in the bathroom. Unbelievable," Gary muttered, still seated on the toilet. He and Mary were married, and this trip was part of a company retreat to a seaside town. But in an attempt to save money, the company had booked them into a cheap, run-down hotel on the outskirts of the city. To their dismay, they seemed to be the only guests there.

After a chaotic check-in, Gary's colleagues had hurried off, eager to hit the beach. The bus was already waiting outside. Missing it would mean a hassle finding their own way there, which explained Mary's irritation. But to Gary, it was no big deal.

Gary couldn't care less about his wife's frustration. Now that he had the bathroom to himself, he felt much more at ease. When nature calls, what can you do? Better to go now than hunt for a bathroom later. Besides, if they missed the bus, they could always call a cab. What was the rush? Women were always nagging over nothing.

Their hotel room was standard: a small bedroom with an attached bathroom that doubled as a shower. Gary sat on the toilet, staring blankly at the showerhead as water dripped slowly, one drop at a time. In truth, Gary didn't care for traveling. Just the thought of all the sightseeing made him feel tired. If he was honest with himself, he was just lazy. Averse to physical activity, Gary had put on a bit of weight, though it wasn't enough to impact his health. In his own words, he was a "nimble fat guy." The only reason he agreed to this trip—aside from it being free—was the chance to see the ocean. After living inland for so long, the idea of visiting a beach was somewhat appealing.

His stomach still ached—not too bad, but enough to make him want to sit a while longer. Shifting his gaze from the dripping showerhead, he focused on the floor tiles. Ever since stepping into the bathroom, he'd felt a subtle unease. It wasn't something he could put into words, just a nagging sensation, like an itch he couldn't scratch.

It reminded him of a night years ago, walking down an empty street. It wasn't a long walk, but the dark road, the tree shadows, and the echo of his footsteps had left a lasting impression on him. It had felt like someone was following him, cold eyes watching his every move. He'd been certain that if he stopped walking, whatever it was would grab him from behind. That feeling had followed him all the way home, only easing once the motion-sensor light in his hallway flickered on. Even in the dead of winter, it had made him break out in a cold sweat.

Now, that same feeling was back. But this time, it was stronger, more intense. Gary felt those invisible eyes on him again, and something else too—a faint, irregular breathing all around him. Panic began to rise in his chest. He reached behind him for some toilet paper but found none. Cursing under his breath, he froze as he heard something else—soft, almost playful, giggling.

Gary's hearing had always been sharp, one of the things he prided himself on. He could pick up faint background sounds in music that others couldn't. There was no way he had imagined that laugh. What unsettled him even more was that it didn't come from any specific direction. It was like it had surrounded him, as if coming from every corner of the room.

A cold shiver crawled down his spine. His skin tingled with goosebumps as an icy sweat coated his body. Forgetting about the missing toilet paper, Gary hurriedly reached for a disposable towel, cleaned himself up, and rushed toward the door.

But the door wouldn't open.

The bathroom door swung inward, and it could only be locked from the inside. There was no way it could have been locked from the outside without a key, and Mary didn't have one. The door wasn't locked, but it was stuck. The handle wouldn't budge.

In disbelief, Gary yanked the doorknob, rattling it back and forth, but the door wouldn't move. Of all times for the door to jam, it had to be now. He thought about kicking it open, but since it opened inward, that wouldn't help.

Then, suddenly, he felt something cold brush against the back of his neck—like someone was breathing down his neck while holding an ice cube. It wasn't a strong breeze, but it was enough to make him freeze. There was no one else in the bathroom. So where had the cold air come from? The vent in the ceiling had been broken for ages, and there hadn't been any airflow since he walked in. Which meant that if he felt that cold breath, it wasn't from the vent—it was from someone, or something, else.

Gary didn't dare turn around. Sweat dripped down his forehead in large drops.

The room was eerily quiet. The only sound was his own ragged breathing. He took a deep breath and held it, trying to listen for anything behind him. Silence. It didn't make sense—there couldn't be anyone else in the bathroom. But that cold breath on his neck had felt so real. It couldn't have been his imagination.

He'd been in the bathroom long enough. By now, Mary should've been getting impatient, especially with the whole busload of people waiting on him. Had they already left? Would Mary really go to the beach without him? It didn't seem likely. But she might have gone to check on him. Either way, he needed to get out.

Summoning his courage, Gary slowly turned around. There was no one. The bathroom looked exactly the same as when he'd entered. But something was definitely wrong. Aside from the giggle and the cold breath, there was an overwhelming sense of dread, a deep unease that gripped his chest like a vice. His heart pounded in his ears, and a slight dizziness set in. A single word popped into his mind: ghost.

How long had he been in here? Ever since Mary's footsteps had faded away, it felt like the bathroom had sealed itself off from the outside world, like no one would ever find him.

Leaning against the door, Gary glanced at the floor and noticed something strange. The tiles weren't square anymore. One of the tiles was slowly warping, its edges bending, making it look like it was becoming round. The distortion spread, and soon it felt like the entire floor—and the walls—were twisting. The bathroom seemed to warp around him, turning into a cave. And in that cave, far off in the distance, a pair of cold blue eyes stared at him. They weren't human. The pupils were slitted, like a blade's edge. He couldn't see a face, couldn't hear anything—just those cold, predatory eyes watching him from the shadows.

In a daze, Gary shakily pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. He didn't light the cigarette. Instead, he flicked on the lighter.

His eyes were drawn to the small flame, mesmerized by its flicker. It was warm, soft, almost comforting. He felt an overwhelming urge to touch it.

Gary extended his finger toward the flame. He no longer felt fear or pain, only a numb calmness. Slowly, the flame began to spread over his body. Fully clothed, he became a man engulfed in fire. As the bright light consumed him, he heard himself sigh—like his soul was slipping away. And then, the laughter returned, a woman's voice this time. He looked back toward the cave one last time. The blue eyes slowly closed.