The Party That Killed || Hyunlix

49 🕸️

3rd person pov.
Chan nervously clenched his hands on the edge of the desk, his eyes scanning the lines written on the paper handed to him by Seungmin's brother. The words felt heavy as stones, and their meaning sent chills down his spine.

"You can't show this to anyone until the time is right," the boy said, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound calm. "They need to know. Seungmin... he needs to know."

Chan looked at him in disbelief.

"You don't understand what you're getting into if this comes out. They'll destroy you," he tried to warn, but he could see the boy had already made up his mind.

Jungmin sighed heavily, leaning against the wall.

"My life is over anyway, Chan. But if I can do something to help Seungmin... even the smallest thing, I have to try. Promise me you'll keep this secret, at least until you know it's safe to reveal it."

Chan felt a lump in his throat. He knew stepping into this mess was like signing a death sentence, but he couldn’t refuse. He extended his hand, taking the letter the boy handed him with reverence.

"I promise."

≈🎃≈

3rd person pov.
Seungmin stood by the window, gazing at the misty horizon. Chan's words from the recording still echoed in his mind: "In my old house, you'll find a letter from your brother."

"Are you sure we should go there?" Jeongin asked, breaking the silence.

"We have no choice," Seungmin replied, though his voice carried a hint of uncertainty. "This might be our only chance to find out the truth."

Jisung, leaning against the doorframe, added, "If it's that important, there might be more than just a letter waiting for us there. Maybe a trap."

Hyunjin, bent over a blueprint of the house he'd found online, lifted his head.

"That's why we have to be careful. We go in, grab the letter, and get out. No unnecessary risks."

Felix looked at them with determination.

"Chan trusted us enough to share this secret. We can't waste it."

Seungmin turned away from the window, clenching his fists.

"If this sheds any light on what happened to my brother, I'm willing to take the risk. Let's go."

≈🎃≈

The group arrived at an old, decrepit house. Its dark windows resembled hollow eyes, and the rotting facade made it look as though it might collapse at any moment. The night was cold, the air heavy with moisture. Hyunjin held a flashlight, illuminating their path.

"This place doesn’t look too inviting," Jisung muttered, glancing around nervously. "Are you sure there aren’t any squatters? Or... something worse?"

Felix rolled his eyes.

"Jisung, focus. We’re here for something specific. Stop with the horror scenarios."

Jeongin raised an eyebrow.

"Still, he’s got a point. This place looks like it could swallow us whole."

Seungmin, leading the group, stopped in front of the door. He touched its surface as if trying to sense echoes of the past.

"He lived here... And my brother was in this house. It all feels so... unreal."

Hyunjin stood beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't let fear take over. We go in, do what we came for, and leave."

The door creaked as Seungmin pushed the handle. Inside, the house was dim, the air thick with dust floating in the beam of Hyunjin's flashlight.

Felix entered first, scanning the room carefully.

"He said the letter is hidden in his room. Do we know where that is?"

Jisung pointed to the stairs leading upstairs.

"Chan's room was always on the upper floor. Hyunjin, let’s go."

Seungmin, Jeongin, and Felix stayed on the ground floor, searching the living room and kitchen.

"Do you think this is the only letter he left?" Jeongin asked, rifling through a drawer filled with old newspapers.

Seungmin picked up a dusty photo album.

"Maybe. But if this letter has the answers we’re looking for, I don’t need anything else."

Upstairs, Hyunjin and Jisung reached Chan's room. The door was ajar, the interior seemingly untouched. A rusted lamp still sat on the desk, and scraps of paper littered the floor.

"Where could it be?" Jisung muttered, rummaging through drawers.

Hyunjin glanced toward the old bed, its mattress torn. He crouched down and felt something hard beneath it.

"I’ve got something."

He pulled out a small box that appeared to be locked.

"This must be it."

≈🎃≈

3rd person pov.
Chan stood in the middle of a dark, forgotten room. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsating with the rhythm of an unseen, unsettling heartbeat. The air was thick, filled with unsaid words and memories that should have remained buried.

He tried to step forward, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. Looking down, he saw not wooden planks but hundreds of eyes staring up at him, silent and accusing. From their depths came a faint whisper, initially incomprehensible but growing clearer with every passing second.

"It's your fault... You should have told them... You should have saved them..."

Chan covered his ears, but the whispers pierced through, echoing inside his skull. Suddenly, a figure began to emerge from the shadows ahead of him. At first blurry and indistinct, it slowly became clear. It was Seungmin's brother—young, calm, but with eyes filled with disappointment.

"Why didn’t you warn me?" he asked, his voice resonating like the slow, heavy beat of a heart.

"I couldn’t..." Chan whispered, his voice breaking. "I was..."

"Afraid," Jungmin interrupted, stepping closer. "But I was more afraid."

Chan wanted to scream, to explain, to beg for forgiveness, but his lips remained sealed as if stitched shut by invisible threads. Jungmin raised a hand, pointing toward a corner of the room.

Chan’s gaze followed, his heart racing. In the corner stood an old, dusty chest. He knew what he would find before he even opened it. His hands moved of their own accord, lifting the lid with dreadful precision. Inside was the letter—the same letter Jungmin had entrusted him with.

"Give it to him. Show him the truth," Jungmin whispered before dissolving into the air, leaving Chan alone.

The floor beneath his feet began to crumble, and he fell into a darkness filled with whispers and accusations.

Chan jolted awake, gasping for air. His heart pounded furiously, and his hands trembled. The dream had been too real, too vivid. He knew it wasn’t just a nightmare—it was a warning.

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Movie suggestion: Halloween 5: Revange of Michael Myers (1989)