Crimson Strings [Yeongyu]

The last thread

Chapter 9: The Last Thread

Beomgyu’s POV 

Darkness swallowed him whole. 

The flickering bulb above struggled, casting warped, shifting shadows along the walls. 

Somewhere, the key lay on the floor—forgotten. 

Because Beomgyu **wasn't alone anymore**. 

A breath—cold, wet, unnatural—**sighed against his ear**. 

His pulse slammed into his ribs. His entire body went rigid. 

Yeonjun was **still** in front of him. 

So who the fuck was behind him? 

A low chuckle crawled through the silence. 

Beomgyu didn't move. 

Didn’t even breathe. 

His gut screamed—*don’t turn around*. 

But— 

*"Beomgyu."* 

The whisper slithered into his skull. 

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

Something *wasn't* human anymore. 
He turned. 

A pair of **pale, empty eyes** stared back. 

The shape was barely a body—**too tall**, **too thin**, **mouth stretching too wide**— 

It grinned. 

His vision **blurred**— 

A hand shot out—**gripping his throat**. 

Not Yeonjun's. 

Not yeonjun's. 

This touch was ice-cold, something deeper than skin, something that **wrapped around his soul and started pulling**— 

"*Let go!*" Beomgyu choked, thrashing— 

It **tightened**. 

Something **slipped inside him**. Crawling, burrowing— 

A scream **tore out of his throat**. 

And suddenly— 

Yeonjun **moved**. 

A flash of silver. 

The cold bite of a blade **slicing through the air**. 

**A guttural shriek.** 

And then— 

The grip **was gone**. 

Beomgyu **collapsed**, gasping, hands clawing at his neck. His lungs burned, his vision swam— 

Yeonjun stood over him, breathless. 

In his hand, a knife **dripped black**. 

But— 

Yeonjun **wasn’t looking at him anymore**. 

His gaze was locked on the corner. 

Where the shadows **shifted.** 

The thing **wasn’t gone.** 

It **wasn’t fucking gone.** 

Beomgyu scrambled back, hands shaking. 

The lights flickered violently—walls **warping**, the air **thick with something wrong**— 

And then— 

A sound. 

**A second voice.** 

Not the thing. 

Not Yeonjun. 

**Another.** 

A whisper from the walls, from the floor, from the air itself— 

*"Did you think you could leave?"* 

Yeonjun's expression twisted. 

Beomgyu felt it in his bones. 

**They were never supposed to leave.** 

The room **lurched**. 

The floor **split open**—black tendrils curling from the cracks, reaching, **grabbing**— 

Yeonjun **yanked Beomgyu up**. 

"RUN!" 

They **bolted**. 

The door was there—**too far, too close**—the walls **melting**, hands stretching out— 

Something **latched onto Beomgyu's ankle**. 

He **screamed**—**Yeonjun spun—** 

Another **slash of silver**. 

Beomgyu **stumbled forward**—Yeonjun **grabbed him**, **hauled him through the door**— 

The second they **hit the hallway**— 

**Silence.** 

The air **shifted**. 

**Still.** 

Beomgyu’s chest **heaved**. His hands **trembled violently**. 

Behind them— 

The room **was gone**. 

Just an empty doorway leading into **nothingness**. 

No key. 

No shadows. 

No whispers. 

Yeonjun exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His fingers were still stained black. 

Beomgyu swallowed. 

Slowly—**hesitantly**—he turned to Yeonjun. 

"You knew," he rasped. "You knew this would happen." 

Yeonjun’s lips curled into a smirk—**but his eyes were darker than before**. 

“I warned you,” he murmured. 

Beomgyu’s breath hitched. 

Because **deep down**— 

He knew. 

The nightmare wasn’t over. 

It had just begun.

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    The end