THE HOUSE WITH 100 ROOMS
Chapter 7 — Room Number 13
The hands of the wall clock moved slowly.
11:59 p.m.
Nara stood stiffly in front of Door Number 13.
One more minute until midnight.
One more minute until Grandma Sari's rule took effect.
She should leave.
She should move away from that door.
But before Nara could move, the minute hand passed twelve.
12:00 a.m.
The entire house suddenly fell silent.
There was no sound of wind.
No sound of crickets.
Even the ticking of the clock stopped.
Nara stared at Door Number 13.
The doorknob moved by itself.
Click.
The door slowly opened.
Nara stepped back.
"Don't go in..."
She repeated Grandma Sari's message in her mind.
If a new room appears after midnight, never go inside it.
But the door didn't stop opening.
Creak...
Light from the main room spilled across the interior.
Nara raised her phone.
What she saw wasn't a dark hallway like before.
Behind the door was a child's bedroom.
And the room...
looked new.
Brand-new.
Its walls were painted light blue.
There was no dust.
No mold.
No cobwebs.
A small bed stood in the middle of the room, its white blanket still neatly made.
A stuffed rabbit sat on top of it.
Nara furrowed her brow.
This house had been empty for years.
It was impossible for there to be a room that looked like it had just been used.
She stood in the doorway.
She didn't go in.
Her eyes swept across the entire room.
There was a small desk.
A wardrobe.
A bookshelf.
And several children's toys.
Everything looked clean.
As if someone had just tidied it a few minutes ago.
Nara looked at the floor.
There wasn't a speck of dust.
Then she saw something that made her throat go dry.
A coloring book lay on the desk.
Its cover was pink.
A name was written across it in a child's handwriting.
NARA.
Nara froze.
"Why is my name here?"
Without realizing it, she stepped inside.
One step.
Then another.
The moment her foot crossed the threshold, the door behind her closed.
Thud.
Nara spun around.
She tried the doorknob.
It didn't move.
"This isn't funny..."
She pulled harder.
It was still locked.
Nara turned on the bedroom light.
Strangely, it came on at once.
Soft yellow light filled the room.
She looked at the coloring book again.
Her hands trembled as she picked it up.
The first page contained a drawing of a house.
A drawing of a grandmother.
A little girl.
And another little girl.
The second child's face had been crossed out with black ink.
Nara turned the page.
The next drawing stopped her breath.
Two little girls stood in front of a house.
Above one of their heads was written:
NARA.
Above the other's:
MIRA.
The name felt unfamiliar.
But the moment she read it, a sudden pain shot through Nara's head.
"Mira..."
A small voice came from behind her.
"Nara."
Nara dropped the book.
She slowly turned around.
There was no one there.
But the stuffed rabbit on the bed had changed positions.
Before, it had been facing the wall.
Now it was facing her directly.
Nara stepped back.
"Who did this?"
There was no answer.
She looked at the desk.
There was a pencil box.
Beside it lay a small photograph.
Nara picked it up.
The photo showed her as a little girl.
She was sitting on the bedroom floor.
Beside her, another little girl was smiling.
Mira.
Nara stared at the girl's face.
Suddenly, another memory surfaced.
A little girl whispered:
"If we play in this room, don't tell Grandma."
Then came the sound of laughter.
A locked door.
The sound of adult footsteps.
And a scream.
Nara jolted back to the present.
Tears flowed down her cheeks without her realizing it.
"I've been here before..."
She looked around.
This wasn't a new room.
This was her childhood bedroom.
But why had the house kept it?
Nara opened the wardrobe.
Inside were children's clothes.
One of them was a small white dress.
She recognized it.
The dress she had worn when she was around seven years old.
There was something in its pocket.
A small piece of paper.
Nara unfolded it.
A child's handwriting covered the surface.
"Nara, don't go home yet. Mira is still scared."
Nara's hands trembled.
Then a sound came from beneath the bed.
Knock.
Nara froze.
Knock.
Twice.
Then a little girl's voice came from underneath it.
Softly.
Very close.
"Nara..."
Nara stepped back.
The voice whispered:
"You left me here."
Nara covered her mouth.
And from beneath the bed...
A pair of small eyes slowly emerged.