I should have been suspicious when the landlady asked whether I was good at forgetting people.
Not whether I was afraid of the dark.
Not whether I minded living on the top floor.
Not even whether I believed in ghosts.
But—
“Do you have a good memory, Savera?”
My hand, which had been opening my wallet, stopped.
The woman in front of me was probably in her sixties. Most of her graying hair was pulled into a simple bun. Thin-framed glasses hung low on her nose.
Her name was Mrs. Marjani.
The owner of Darwanta Guesthouse.
“Pretty good, ma’am.”
“What does ‘pretty good’ mean?”
I smiled awkwardly.
I’d come to rent a room, not take a college entrance exam for the second time.
“Well... I sometimes forget assignments. But I usually remember people’s faces.”
Mrs. Marjani’s gaze lingered on my face a little too long.
“Good.”
That was all.
She went back to counting the security deposit I had just given her.
I glanced around the living room.
Darwanta Guesthouse was much older than it had looked in the listing photos. The ivory walls had begun to yellow. A large wooden clock hung above a cabinet. A floral sofa filled one corner of the room alongside a low table covered in ring marks from glasses.
It wasn’t luxurious.
It wasn’t modern.
But the rent was almost half that of the other boardinghouses around Varesta University.
For a student whose bank balance was already in dire shape before the semester even started, I didn’t have many grounds to complain.
“Your room is 403.”
Mrs. Marjani placed a key on the table.
Its wooden tag was marked with the number 403.
“The Fourth Floor?”
“Yes.”
“Is there an elevator?”
Mrs. Marjani looked at the large suitcase beside my feet.
Then she looked at me.
“No.”
Damn.
Four floors.
Two suitcases.
One box of books.
And a terrible life decision.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to sound stoic.
I slipped the key into my bag.
Mrs. Marjani still hadn’t moved.
“There’s one more thing.”
She opened the desk drawer.
What she took out wasn’t a key.
It was a sheet of paper.
The paper was folded in half, its color slightly yellowed. There was no letterhead or signature, just simple black lettering.
She pushed it toward me.
“Read it after you get to your room.”
I picked it up.
“The boardinghouse rules?”
“The Fourth Floor rules.”
I almost laughed.
“The other floors don’t have any?”
“No.”
The way Mrs. Marjani answered kept the laugh from escaping.
“Okay.”
I put the paper in my bag.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I had just turned around when her voice sounded again.
“Savera.”
I looked back.
For the first time since I arrived, the woman’s friendly expression disappeared.
“If you hear something from the end of the hallway tonight, stay in your room.”
I waited for her to continue.
She didn’t.
“Something like what?”
Mrs. Marjani went back to straightening the money on the table.
“If you hear it, you’ll know.”
It took me almost twenty minutes to carry all my things up to the Fourth Floor.
By the last trip, I was starting to consider throwing out half my book collection.
The stairs at Darwanta Guesthouse were narrow and turned at every floor. Yellowish round lights hung from the ceiling. Several times, I had to stop because my suitcase got caught on the corners of the steps.
As soon as I reached the Fourth Floor, I dropped the box onto the floor.
“If I’d known this, I would’ve paid someone to do it.”
“New tenants usually say that.”
I jumped.
A woman was standing in the doorway of Room 402. Her hair fell to her shoulders, she wore an oversized T-shirt, and an analog camera hung around her neck.
She held back a smile.
“Sorry. Did I scare you?”
“A little.”
“Then we’re still good.”
She came over to me.
“Taresa.”
“Savera.”
“403?”
I nodded.
Taresa pointed to the door beside hers.
“Guess we’re neighbors.”
I finally had a chance to take a proper look at the hallway.
It wasn’t long.
On the left was Room 401.
Then 402.
My room, 403, was at the very end.
Beyond it was only a wall with a large window.
A light rain dampened the glass. From the Fourth Floor, I could see the rooftops along Jalan Rembun and the vehicle lights moving like tiny dots in the distance.
“Only three rooms?”
“On this floor, yeah.”
“It’s pretty quiet.”
“That’s what makes it nice.”
The door to Room 401 suddenly opened.
A tall woman came out carrying a trash bag. Her gaze shifted from Taresa to me.
“New tenant?”
“Her name’s Savera,” Taresa answered.
The woman gave a small nod.
“Jaresta.”
Before I could respond, her eyes fell on the key tag in my hand.
A slight change came over her face.
Almost impossible to notice.
“You got that room?”
I frowned.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Never mind.”
Jaresta walked past me.
But when she reached the stairs, she stopped.
“Lock your door before midnight.”
I stared at her back.
“Why does everyone here love giving half-finished warnings?”
Jaresta turned around.
“Because when everything gets explained, new tenants usually move out.”
Then she went downstairs.
I looked at Taresa.
“Was she joking?”
Taresa shrugged.
“That’s just Jaresta.”
“Just how?”
“Kind of creepy.”
“Great. I feel a lot calmer now.”
Taresa laughed.
I laughed too.
At the time, I didn’t know that a few days later, I would wish I’d listened to every word Jaresta had said.
Room 403 turned out to be better than I expected.
There was a single bed, a study desk, a wooden wardrobe, a small bathroom, and a window facing the backyard.
After showering and unpacking some of my things, I threw myself onto the bed.
10:17 p.m.
That was when I remembered the paper from Mrs. Marjani.
It was still folded inside my bag.
I took it out.
At the very top, it said:
FOURTH FLOOR RULES
I snorted.
So they were really serious.
I read them one by one.
1. Do not be in the hallway between 3:44 and 4:04 a.m.
Weird.
2. If the number of steps leading to the Fourth Floor is more than 47, go back down without looking behind you.
I stopped reading.
Forty-seven?
Who counts the stairs?
I continued.
3. Do not answer someone who knocks four times.
4. If you hear a piano from the end of the hallway, stay in your room.
I remembered what Mrs. Marjani had said.
So this was what she meant?
5. Do not move anything belonging to a tenant you don’t know.
6. If you find Room 404, do not knock.
I frowned.
I even got out of bed and opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
After my room, there was only a window.
I held back a laugh.
Maybe this was some kind of prank tradition for new tenants.
I went back inside.
7. If its occupant knows your name, do not tell them your full name.
8. Do not accept anything from the occupant of Room 404.
9. Do not sleep inside Room 404.
Then came the final rule.
I read it twice.
10. No matter what happens, do not fall in love with its occupant.
I laughed.
I really laughed this time.
“Who would fall in love with a room?”
I tossed the paper onto the desk.
I turned off the light.
Five minutes later, I had already forgotten all about it.
I woke up to the sound of music.
My eyes opened slowly.
Darkness.
For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was.
Then I saw the boxes on the floor.
My new boardinghouse.
Darwanta Guesthouse.
I reached for my phone.
12:47 a.m.
I groaned and turned over.
The music sounded again.
One note.
Then the next.
I opened my eyes.
A piano.
Someone was playing the piano.
Softly.
Very softly.
As if they were afraid of waking someone else.
I sat up.
No way.
I hadn’t seen a piano in this boardinghouse.
Maybe it was coming from the house next door.
I tried lying back down.
The notes continued.
For some reason, the longer I listened, the more certain I became that the sound wasn’t coming from outside the building.
It was coming from the hallway.
Right outside my door.
I stared at the desk.
The rules were still lying there.
If you hear a piano from the end of the hallway, stay in your room.
“Idiot.”
I said it to myself.
This was obviously a joke.
Maybe Taresa was pranking me.
Or Jaresta.
I pulled the blanket over myself.
The piano stopped.
Silence.
I exhaled.
Then—
Knock.
I froze.
The sound hadn’t come from my door.
It was far down the hallway.
Knock.
Like someone was knocking on wood.
Knock.
I waited.
There was no fourth knock.
For some reason, that only made me more curious.
I got out of bed.
“Just a quick look.”
My feet touched the cold floor.
I walked to the door.
My hand stopped on the handle.
I knew what the paper said.
I knew Mrs. Marjani had warned me.
But curiosity has an extraordinary ability to make people feel smarter than danger.
I opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
The ceiling light flickered.
There was no one there.
I was about to close the door when I realized something.
The window was gone.
I stood there silently.
Where the window had been, the hallway continued stretching ahead.
Five meters.
Maybe more.
Impossible.
I stepped outside.
Then took another step.
“What the hell...?”
At the end of the hallway stood a door.
Black.
Old.
With a brass handle.
I stared at the number mounted above it.
404.
It felt as if my blood had stopped flowing.
No.
I had seen this hallway myself a few hours ago.
There had been no door.
No room.
Nothing—
The door to Room 404 opened.
I stepped back.
A man walked out.
He wore a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His black hair was slightly messy, as if he had just woken up.
His face was pale.
Too pale.
But that wasn’t what kept me from moving.
He looked at me like someone who had finally found something that had been missing for a long time.
His eyes widened slightly.
His lips parted.
I should have run.
I should have gone back into my room.
I should have locked the door.
Instead, I stood there.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The man didn’t answer.
He took one step closer.
The light above his head flickered.
Went out.
Came back on.
And now only a few meters separated us.
“I asked, who are you?”
The man finally smiled.
It was a strange smile.
Not the smile of someone meeting another person for the first time.
More like the smile of someone who had been waiting for a very long time.
“Savera.”
My body froze.
I had never told him my name.
“How do you know my name?”
His smile slowly disappeared.
There was something in his gaze that I didn’t understand.
Longing.
Fear.
And sorrow so deep that just looking at him made my chest feel tight.
Then he said something that made every hair on my body stand on end.
“You’ve finally come back.”
I stepped back.
“Come back?”
The man looked at me as if he had just realized something.
“You don’t remember?”
“Remem—”
A door slammed behind me.
I turned around.
The door to Room 402 was open.
Taresa stood there.
Her face was pale.
“Savera!”
She looked past me.
Her eyes immediately filled with fear.
“Get in your room. Now.”
I turned back toward the end of the hallway.
Empty.
There was no man.
No black door.
The large window was back in its place.
Rain dripped down the glass.
I couldn’t breathe for several seconds.
“There was someone—”
“I know.”
I looked at Taresa.
She was clutching her camera so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
“You saw him?”
Taresa didn’t answer.
She hurried over to me and pulled my arm toward Room 403.
Before pushing me inside, she whispered,
“If anyone asks tomorrow morning, say you didn’t see anything.”
“But—”
“And Savera?”
I looked at her.
“Never tell him your full name.”
The door closed right in front of my face.
I stood alone in my room.
My heart pounded.
Then my gaze fell on the desk.
The rules I’d left there had changed position.
I was sure the paper had been faceup before.
Now it was facedown.
There was writing on the back.
Handwriting.
The ink was still wet.
I moved closer.
There was only one sentence.
This time, don’t fall in love with me again.
A name was written beneath it.
Elvar.