PART 1 — Midnight Elevato
It was 1:13 a.m. when Suri finally shut down her computer.
The entire Epsilon Corporate Tower felt dead at this hour—lights dimmed, automatic AC cut off, hallways quiet enough that she could hear the soft electric pulse running through the security panels.
She massaged her tense shoulders and walked toward the elevator lobby.
Her heels clicked sharply on the marble floor, echoing too loudly in the empty space.
She hated working late.
She hated how the building looked at night even more.
The elevator indicator blinked weakly when she pressed the button.
DING.
The doors slid open.
Empty.
Suri stepped inside, relieved. She hated sharing late-night elevators with strangers.
She pressed "1" and leaned her tired body against the metal wall.
Just as the doors were about to close—
A pale hand shot through the gap.
The sensors detected it and the doors reopened.
A man stepped in.
Tall. Hood pulled over his head.
Face down. No visible features.
He didn't greet her.
Didn't press any button.
Just stood in the corner, completely still.
Suri felt a sharp pinch of discomfort in her stomach.
Who rides an elevator without pressing a floor?
The doors closed again and the elevator descended.
14th floor.
13th.
12th.
The ride felt too quiet.
When the elevator stopped on the 9th floor, Suri instinctively stepped aside, expecting someone to get on.
The doors opened.
A man wearing a white shirt and carrying a laptop bag stepped in.
He looked exhausted, like he had also been working late.
He gave her a small polite nod before pressing "G".
Suri nodded back.
Now there were three people inside:
Suri,
the white-shirt office worker,
the hooded man who still hadn't moved or spoken.
Before she could think more, the elevator stopped on 7th floor, even though no one pressed the button.
The doors slid open.
This time, no one stepped in.
The hallway outside was empty.
Lights flickering.
Silent.
The white-shirt man frowned.
"Must be a glitch," he said.
"Yeah," Suri replied softly.
But the elevator didn't move.
The doors remained open longer than usual.
Too long.
The lights in the hallway buzzed, brightening and dimming in irregular intervals.
Cold air drifted into the cabin.
Suri's fingers curled around the strap of her bag.
"Close," she whispered, impatient.
But the doors refused to close.
The white-shirt man reached for the button—
Then froze.
Suri didn't understand why until she followed his gaze.
Just outside the elevator doors, at the edge of the hallway where the lights barely reached, stood a woman.
Barefoot.
Head lowered.
Long black hair covering her face.
Hands hanging unnaturally straight by her sides.
She wasn't there a second ago.
Suri's skin crawled instantly.
The woman didn't move.
Didn't lift her head.
Didn't breathe—not visibly.
She just stood there, like a forgotten mannequin placed in the wrong hallway.
The white-shirt man swallowed hard.
"What the hell…"
The hooded man in the corner still hadn't reacted at all.
The elevator beeped, signaling overloaded time.
Finally, the doors began to close—slowly.
Suri prayed they would shut completely.
But halfway through, the sensors detected movement outside.
The doors reopened.
The woman was now one step closer.
Still head down.
Still unmoving.
Suri's heart pounded so loudly she felt it in her throat.
"Press the close button," she whispered urgently.
The white-shirt man jabbed it repeatedly.
The doors tried again.
This time, they shut fully, and the elevator resumed its descent.
Neither Suri nor the other man spoke for several seconds.
The silence felt like pressure, filling the tiny metal box with dread.
Then—
A soft tap.
It came from behind them.
A tap on the elevator door.
But they were already moving—no one should be tapping anything.
Suri turned reflexively.
The hooded man was standing up straighter now, head slightly raised.
She realized something disturbing:
She couldn't see his face at all beneath the hood.
Not even a nose or mouth—nothing.
Just darkness.
He wasn't facing her.
But she felt like he knew she was looking at him.
She jerked her gaze forward again, gripping her bag.
The white-shirt man whispered, "What floor is this building haunted on? Seventh?"
"I don't believe in ghosts," Suri muttered.
But her voice shook.
The elevator continued descending, digits blinking slowly.
4… 3… 2…
Suddenly—
The lights went out.
Total darkness.
And in the pitch-black cabin, Suri heard breathing.
But it wasn't coming from her.
And it wasn't the white-shirt man.
It was coming from directly beside her.
Right where the hooded man stood.
Slow.
Heavy.
Wet.
She held her breath, terrified it would brush against her skin.
The emergency light flicked on—
And the hooded man was suddenly inches from her face.
Suri choked on a gasp and stumbled backward.
The white-shirt man shouted, "Hey! Move back from her!"
But the hooded man didn't respond.
He just stood there, too close, too wrong.
Suri pressed herself against the wall.
The elevator dinged.
They reached the ground floor.
The doors opened.
The white-shirt man grabbed Suri's arm.
"Let's go!"
They rushed out into the lobby.
As soon as her feet touched the marble, she felt relief flood her chest.
But when she turned back—
The hooded man hadn't stepped out.
He just stood inside the elevator, still looking at her, though she still couldn't see his face.
The doors closed.
And the elevator ascended on its own.
Not to any floor someone pressed.
But straight up.
To 7.
The same floor where the barefoot woman stood.
Suri shuddered violently.
The white-shirt man exhaled shakily. "What the hell was that?"
Before she could answer—
Something landed on the marble behind them.
A barefoot step.
Suri and the man froze.
Slowly, they turned around.
The woman from the 7th floor was standing in the lobby now.
Head still down.
Hair still covering her face.
But her mouth—
Her mouth was slightly open, trembling like she was whispering something.
Suri grabbed the man's wrist.
Run.
They ran toward the exit, heartbeats screaming in their ears.
But as they reached the revolving door—
All the lights in the lobby went out.
And Suri heard a voice whisper directly behind her:
"Six."