It was a cold December night, around 1:50 AM. Noyon returned home after his usual late-night shift at the ISP call center. The city was asleep, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant barking of stray dogs. He unlocked the collapsible gate downstairs as silently as possible, mindful of his elderly grandparents who detested noise after midnight.
The fourth floor, his sanctuary, greeted him with the aroma of reheated leftovers: beef curry and mung dal. Noyon devoured the meal in minutes and washed his face before grabbing a cigarette and heading to the rooftop.
The sky was clear, and the moon was impossibly bright, casting a silver glow over the barren field beside the house. The chill in the air was biting, but the beauty of the night was hypnotic. Lighting his Gold Leaf, Noyon exhaled a stream of smoke and muttered, “Life is beautiful.”
Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation, as if he were being watched. The laughter of a distant child rang faintly in his ears, though he knew no children lived nearby. Shaking his head, he whispered, “Probably just the wind.” But the unease persisted.
As he turned to head back inside, he froze.
At the rooftop entrance stood a figure.
It was taller than any human he’d ever seen, wrapped head to toe in a white shroud that glowed faintly in the moonlight. Its face was hidden, but Noyon could feel its gaze piercing through him.
His breath hitched. His legs felt like lead, and his mind raced with fragmented thoughts:
“Who…what is that?”
“Is this real?”
“Run!”
But he couldn’t move.
The figure started gliding toward him, noiselessly.
Noyon wanted to scream, to pray, to do anything—but his voice betrayed him. Even the verses he had memorized since childhood slipped from his mind. The only sound was the rapid thumping of his heart and the faint rustle of the figure’s shroud against the night air.
“Turn away!” his mind screamed. “Don’t look at it!”
But he couldn’t.
As the figure drew closer, Noyon noticed something horrifying: its feet didn’t touch the ground.
It stopped mere inches away, its head tilting unnaturally to one side. A cold, foul wind enveloped him, carrying the stench of decay.
The figure raised a shrouded arm, its fingers—or what resembled fingers—stretching toward him.
And then, everything went dark.
The Aftermath
Noyon woke up on the rooftop floor, his body trembling. His cigarette lay smoldering beside him, the ashes scattered. He could hear the faint sound of his phone vibrating in his pocket.
With every ounce of courage he had, he crawled toward the stairwell. His legs felt like jelly, but he managed to stumble into his room, locking the door behind him.
The phone continued to vibrate. He answered it with shaking hands.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” screamed the voice of his girlfriend. “I’ve been calling for hours! Are you ignoring me again?”
Noyon tried to explain, but his words came out in broken stammers. She didn’t believe him, calling him a liar and a coward.
As the call ended, the first light of dawn broke through his window. The terror of the night began to fade, replaced by exhaustion. But as he closed his eyes, he heard it—faint laughter echoing from the field below.
And then, a whisper:
“See you soon.”
The Mystery Remains
The figure in white was never seen again, but Noyon knew it wasn’t a dream. The rooftop held its secrets, and the cold December night was only the beginning.