Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Silent Night – Shiki OST

Loop 65 (Chase Theme) – The Witch’s House OST

Ready or Not 

HongBin opened his eyes; his vision was blurry, but only for a few seconds as he blinked. The first thing to come into clarity was his hand lying beside his face. He sat up slowly, trying to remember where he was, why he was here, and how he got there.

Nothing.

Nothing came to mind.

His mind was foggy and his thoughts were sluggish. He stood, using a nearby table to support himself when the blood rushed to his head. When the throbbing pain cleared enough for him to focus, he looked around. The young man found himself in a gloomy hall, lit only by an intricate, low-hanging, glass chandelier. Its candlelight bathed the large area in a soft glow; the light too bright to be comforting but too dim to be warm. He could see the dust and debris falling; catching the light of the candles on its journey to the ground, disappearing into the darkness.

The hall was large; Victorian in design. There was a dark coloured rug that ran from a set of double doors – the main entrance, he assumed – to a grand staircase that split half-way up into two different directions. On either side of the path leading to the steps were doors illuminated only by the shadows cast by the candlelight.

It was… eerie: a gut-wrenching and mind-numbing eerie.

He couldn’t even remember what he was doing here.

There was only one thing that was for certain: getting out was all that mattered. The exit was right in front of him – it couldn’t be this easy though, HongBin knew that – but he stumbled over anyway, his body swaying as if he was drunk. His vision spun with the movement, but he managed to catch the intricate doorknob in his left hand before sliding down against the door, leaning back against the dark wood with his legs sprawled out before him. He dropped his hand from the door handle as it fell limply to his side. He wondered vaguely if he had been drinking before and this was all just a fragment of his intoxicated dreams and hallucinations. But those innocent ideas were soon destroyed when he sensed the silhouette of a figure looming over him.

HongBin listlessly raised his head though his eyes were closed. The young man’s mind was still lost within the depths of the forgiving stupor. He felt the figure kneel down before him and clutch his chin within their hand. HongBin slowly opened his eyes, his vision spinning before clearing to reveal a familiar face.

Han SangHyuk.

“SangHyuk,” HongBin mumbled, his words slurring together, “What are you doing here?”

The boy smiled – a grin that was so familiar to HongBin and yet so foreign, like there was an edge of something very wicked. And did – did SangHyuk’s eyes just flicker from brown to acid green? No, his eyes were brown, just like they should be. But there was also something strange about the way the boy’s hair fell, like it was matted down by some sort of liquid, the same substance that ran down his temple and jaw.

Blood.

“SangHyuk,” HongBin murmured again, this time his words clearer as he raised a hand up to touch the boy’s face. “You’re bleeding…”

The boy let go of his elder’s chin only to snatch the hand reaching out for him. SangHyuk’s brown eyes bled into that sickening green again and stayed that way. HongBin’s eyes widened in shock: the fog in his mind was lifting.

But it was too late?

SangHyuk smoothly leaned down over HongBin, his lips brushing against the elder’s ear as he whispered:

“Lee HongBin, you have so much more to worry about than dear SangHyuk’s head.”

A shuttering breath escaped HongBin’s lips as his memories returned.

Hyuk went missing.

They went looking for him.

In this house.

Everyone was separated.

In the midst of HongBin’s thoughts, SangHyuk had laid HongBin’s right hand down onto the wooden floor poised a pair of pointed scissors above it. The young man was quick to retaliate; struggling against the younger’s hold.

“No, SangHyuk, don't – ”

But it was to no avail. With a swift and powerful swing, SangHyuk lifted his arm high over his head and drove the sharp blade into Hongbin’s palm.

Silence.

Nothing.

For HongBin had -out for only a few forgiving, merciful seconds before consciousness hurled him back into reality. Blinding white flashed through his vision, shock surged through his body, and a feral, ragged scream tore from his throat.

He found himself writhing on the floor, curled into a ball with his right hand wrapped around the wrist of his impaled palm. He tried to take deep breaths, to calm his aching heart, to still the shockwave running through him every time his hand throbbed. The pain and shock of the events had completely dispelled the haziness that once occupied the young man’s mind.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice hoarse from screaming, “Where is SangHyuk?”

He watched as the boy wrote something on a small scrap of paper.

“I’m surprised. You’re brighter than your friends, or perhaps you’re just more cautious.” SangHyuk said, pausing to talk to HongBin with an unnerving amount of indifference. SangHyuk leaned down now, the light of the candle illuminating a sick grin on his face as he wrapped his hand around the handle of the scissors. “But, I don’t think that is going to help you.”

He knew what was coming, but no amount of preparation could prepare HongBin for when SangHyuk cruelly wrenched the blade out of his skin.

Pure and absolute agony shredded through his entire being.

He could care less that the boy was now soaking the piece of paper in the crimson red that pooled around his impaled hand. Through his pain, HongBin didn’t even notice that the light in the room had gone out nor that SangHyuk had shoved him aside to open the door and place the piece of paper the ground with the white candle on top of it.

SangHyuk slammed the door shut, and then began knocking.

It was pitch black, HongBin couldn’t see a single thing but he could still hear – and all he heard were his own harsh, ragged breaths and the consistent, foreboding knocking on the door. He needed to get up, if he wanted to survive he needed to get up and get out. Slowly, he pulled his injured arm close, laying it against his chest as he pulled his legs underneath him. As soon as the bleeding man managed to get onto his feet, SangHyuk stopped knocking as the chimes of an unseen grandfather clock began, its loud ominous peals ringing through the room.

Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding. Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding.

Twelve chimes.

It was midnight.

“Ready or not, Hyung,” SangHyuk crooned, “Here comes our most extraordinary guest.”

The boy opened the door, allowing the welcoming light of a moonless night in, and just for a second HongBin saw nothing outside. But then, he swore he saw a tall, lanky shadow of a human-like creature slither in through the door. SangHyuk bowed, almost mockingly as he reached for the white candle in the threshold. He tossed it and something else at HongBin’s feet before stepping outside reaching back for to shut the door behind him.

“Have fun playing with our guest, HongBin-hyung.” SangHyuk sang. HongBin knew he needed to get follow, to get out of this house. The creature that just entered will most certainly kill him. But HongBin just couldn’t move.

The green-eyed SangHyuk waved enthusiastically now before the shutting the door softly behind him with a resounding click.

“No!” HongBin cried. His body now free to move, he rushed forward, crashing into the door hysterically. The pain of his wound lost in the terror of being trapped.

“SangHyuk!” He slammed his palm against the wood, shaking the door knob frantically.

“Hyuk! No!”

The door wouldn’t budge.

“Come back! Let me out! You can’t leave me here!”

“SangHyuk!”

He was locked in.

He began hyperventilating.

His vision blurred again, whether it was from the lack of oxygen or blood loss he knew not.

No –

He couldn’t let the panic spread and cloud his judgement.

The candle – he had to get the candle.

Quickly, HongBin dropped to his knees, feeling around for his only source of salvation.

There.

And there was a packet of matches too.

He struggled to light the candle; his injured hand slick with blood and he had to rely only on his sense of touch.

When he managed to strike the match and light the flame, HongBin waved the candle around slowly, trying to reassure himself that nothing was there.

“Nothing is here…” he whispered to himself. His heart finally stopped trying to break through his rib cage and his terrified gasping slowed to loud but even breaths.

He slowly waved the candle around him, trying to see if something or someone was there.

Nothing.

But what was this on the ground? A piece of paper?

He picked it up.

Instructions on how to play the Midnight Game:

1. Avoid the Midnight Man at all costs.
2. Should your candle ever go out, the Midnight Man is nearby.
3. You must relight your candle within the next ten seconds.
4. If you do not, the Midnight Man will get you.
5. He will create a hallucination of your greatest fear and rip out your organs one by one.

Good luck, Lee HongBin.

He suddenly got cold as a shiver ran down his spine.

Something was behind him.

His candle blew out.

Whispering from somewhere behind.

Grab the match.

Light the candle.

Grab the match.

Light the candle.

First attempt: failed.

His right hand wouldn’t function properly.

Second attempt: a flicker of light.

He dropped the match.

Third attempt: missed.

Fourth: failed.

Failed again.

“Come on!”

Finally, the match was struck and red stained candle was lit.

He saw something in the darkness.

A tall humanoid figure of pure black.

He stopped breathing.

Then he bolted in the opposite direction, sprinting up the stairs and tearing down the left hall as fast as possible.

He slammed into a door, twisting the knob, collapsing into the room and slamming it shut behind him.

He found himself in a bedroom.

Could the Midnight Man get through locked doors?

If he needed to be invited in house, can he walk through doors?

But first, HongBin needed to starch the bleeding, else he’ll pass out. The numb of adrenaline had passed now and the throbbing is getting worse and worse. He placed the candle down onto the table, and pulled on the bed sheets trying to rip a piece to wrap around his palm.

But then suddenly he froze.

Avoid the Midnight Man at all costs.

Something was watching him.

He whipped around to grab the candle, just as the comforting light flickered out of existence.

Should your candle ever go out, he is nearby.

He dug through his pockets for the packet of matches, hastily pulling one out and striking it.

It snapped in half.

You must relight your candle in the next ten seconds.

It was his last match.

If you do not, the Midnight Man will get you.

He dropped to the floor, feeling around for the broken half of the match.

He needed to light the candle –

He needed it –

He –

Something was behind him.

He was there.

The Midnight Man had caught him.

He will create a hallucination of your greatest fear and rip out your organs one by one.