𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐗: 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

CHAPTER 7: In Memory, Always

(Third Person POV)

The stairwell groaned beneath their footsteps.

The air inside Jun's apartment building was colder than the night outside, tinged with mildew, rust, and the faint metallic trace of old blood. Faint echoes of the past clung to the crumbling walls-fragments of lives once lived and violently silenced. Each creak of the floorboards sounded louder, exaggerated by the oppressive stillness.

Est stepped through the threshold, his breath caught halfway between inhale and memory.

The peeling green paint on the stair rails. The broken light fixture that used to flicker even when it wasn't raining. The unmistakable scratch marks on the elevator door-Jun's initials carved there in secret rebellion against a world that never cared to remember.

His knees almost gave in. His eyes scanned the stairwell with a kind of disbelief, like he was trapped in a vivid hallucination. Every shadow whispered.

Then-a soft tap. William's gloved hand touched his shoulder, grounding him.

Est turned. William's expression was calm but sharp, the kind that held both concern and calculation. He didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke enough. Focus. I've got you.

Est gave a small nod, steadying his breath.

A crackle broke the silence in his earpiece.

"Comm check," Joel's voice came low through the line. "Still no external exits. Whoever's in there hasn't come out."

Milan's voice followed. "We've scanned the building three times. No movement across the stairwells or fire escapes. He's in there. Somewhere."

William's jaw clenched. "Understood."

They moved in.

Est followed behind William, their steps deliberately soft, avoiding the loose tiles and broken wood. The hallway stretched before them like a haunted artery, dim light from the streetlamps outside slicing in through the broken window slats.

On the wall to their right hung an old, dusty family photo frame-shards of glass still clinging to its corners. It was tilted sideways, almost as if someone had passed too close in a hurry.

They were being watched.

William's hand hovered near the grip of his gun. Est's fingers tensed near his blade, senses sharp, pulse roaring in his ears.

He whispered, "This place... it remembers."

William turned slightly, his voice low but firm. "Let it remember. We're not leaving without answers."

A soft sound-like a shuffle-echoed from above.

Both of them froze.

And just then, faint footsteps trailed on the ceiling boards.

Third floor.

***

They reached the third floor.

The hallway was darker here-more suffocating. Most of the bulbs were shattered, the only light leaking in from the dim crescent moon outside the cracked windows. A hollow stillness stretched across the corridor, as if the air itself was holding its breath.

William glanced toward the west wing of the floor-the old guest rooms. Est turned toward the narrow corridor that led to the storage and laundry areas.

They looked at each other.

No words needed.

Est nodded once and vanished into the shadows of the side corridor, his footsteps blending with the wind.