Idol of the Heavenly One - Chapter 59.1
But right now, tension had reached its peak, and Baek Jae-heon had no time to care about anything else.
Gulp. He swallowed hard and stepped out of the room.
From the front door, the sound came again. Beep beep— beeeep.
The door didn’t open this time either. Only the sound indicating a wrong password echoed. And again, the same mechanical beeps of someone pressing the keypad in a steady rhythm filled the silence.
I took a deep breath.
‘Why… Why does it keep being wrong?’
Anyone who knew the dorm password wouldn’t get it wrong this many times. Whether it was a member, the manager, or the team leader—none of them would be coming in at this hour anyway, but even if they did, they would have opened it on the first try.
My heart started pounding again. Earlier, it had been from embarrassment and panic at the thought of being caught. But this time, it was a different kind of anxiety. An unfamiliar, inexplicable chill crept up my spine.
“…Why do they keep getting it wrong?”
I murmured, and Baek Jae-heon frowned, glaring toward the entrance. His rough breathing was slowly calming down. The heat that had filled the air moments ago was fading, replaced by a creeping chill that seemed to smother it.
Then, once again, the electronic beeps rang out.
Beep beep— beeeep.
Another error sound, without fail.
I hesitated, then finally stood up. The instant my bare feet touched the cold, hard floor, my heart began to race even faster. Jae-heon seemed to feel the same thing. Sensing that something was wrong, he followed closely behind me.
As we walked slowly toward the entrance, I pressed the intercom button to turn on the screen.
And at that moment, my breath caught in my throat.
On the screen stood someone wearing a cap pulled low, the lower half of their face hidden behind a thick mask. Just from the outline of the shoulders and body, I could tell it was a woman. But what was far more disturbing was her behavior.
She kept pressing the same numbers—or random combinations—over and over again. Her fingers never stopped moving, and every time, the password was wrong. The door didn’t open, yet the more it failed, the more persistently she pressed.
“…Who is that?”
I muttered, staring fixedly at the screen. My heart was pounding, a primal alarm in my chest screaming danger.
Her silhouette was clearly that of a woman, but her movements were unnatural. Like a machine repeating the same motion. Her head was bowed low, so I couldn’t see her face. The brim of her hat cast a deep shadow, hiding any expression.
Baek Jae-heon stared at the screen, frozen.
“…”
His face stiffened, the color draining from it, and I could tell he was taking this even more seriously than I was.
I whispered cautiously,
“Maybe… maybe she just came to the wrong door?”
I said it to calm him down, but no matter how I thought about it, her behavior was strange. Normally, if someone went to the wrong place, they’d knock a few times, look up to check the unit number, make a call, or just leave after a moment. But she didn’t stop.
Then Jae-heon, still tense, stepped forward and pressed the intercom’s microphone button.
“Who are you?”
His short question echoed through the speaker.
The moment he spoke, the woman’s fingers froze.
Beep.
The keypad stopped mid-press, and her movement came to a complete halt.
Both of us held our breath.
Then slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes were hidden under the cap, but somehow I knew she was staring straight into the camera—straight at us. It felt like she could see right through us.
A shiver ran down my spine.
“…What the hell?”
I whispered. Jae-heon didn’t answer. His hand had gone pale, stiffened on top of the intercom button.
Then the woman began to move again. At first, I thought she was crying. But as faint sounds reached my ears, I quickly realized that wasn’t it.
Heh. Heh-heh. Hhkk.
She was laughing.
Even though her face was hidden by the cap and mask, I could feel the madness in her laughter. No—somehow, I could see it.
She kept laughing for a while, then turned her body and disappeared from the screen. There were no footsteps, no sound at all.
“…”
For a long time, I couldn’t speak. It was too strange, too unreal. I started to wonder if maybe I had imagined the whole thing.
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