Looping
The door began to open slowly.
My mother’s face appeared in front of me.
“Oh, my daughter, you’re already here. How was the trip?”
Everything seemed normal.
Phew.
“It was fine, Mom,” I said as I stepped inside. “Were you watching something?”
“Yes, I’m watching.”
“You are?”
“Can’t you see it on the TV?”
She pointed at the turned-off television.
My breath caught in my throat.
I sat on the sofa. There was a small glass coffee table between the couch and the TV.
“Girl, you won’t believe this—your aunt came by last week. She wanted to see you, but she came on the wrong day.”
“Aunt Shim Nabi?”
She lived the closest to Mom’s place—two days of travel.
“Yes, her. She stayed here for a bit. ‘Hana, my dear sister, how’s our girl Bora doing?’ She was drunk that day, talking nonstop.”
“I see.”
My mother placed her hand on my head.
“You don’t look well. Why are you trembling so much?”
“N-nothing, Mom. I just got a little worried.”
I looked down at the floor. Shoe prints.
Mom said nothing about them.
The TV she was supposedly watching—off.
The loud knocks I gave on the door earlier—she never asked why.
Please… I beg you…
“Mom, what are you watching on TV?”
“You can see for yourself, my daughter. Just look. I’ll get you some water—you’re acting really strange.”
She stood up and went to the kitchen.
Something was terribly wrong with this whole situation.
“Here.”
She handed me a full glass of water.
I brought it to my lips.
The smell hit me—iron and rot, thick in my nostrils.
Ugh!
I vomited straight into the glass.
Things couldn’t get any worse.
Or so I thought.
I fell off the sofa.
Inside the glass: blood mixed with garbage.
“Agh—no, no!”
“You don’t look very well, my daughter.”
I lifted my head and met her blue eyes.
She placed her hand on my head again.
The sweat dripping from my hair turned red.
Her fingers were sliced open.
“Get away from me.”
I tried to crawl backward.
She grabbed my hair and yanked.
Her bloody fingers forced their way into my mouth.
“It’s time, my dear. This world will be saved by him.”
Ugh!
I choked on the blood. The metallic taste made me dizzy. I was losing consciousness.
I kicked her stomach.
She staggered back a few inches.
I could breathe again.
Using the sofa for support, I stood and ran out.
Her skin began to peel away, revealing raw flesh underneath.
The elevator was right there, but the doors wouldn’t close in time.
I ran straight for the stairs.
The thing following me sprayed blood across the hallway.
It leaped down the stairs.
Graaaah!
I tripped and slid right toward it.
“Mom… Mom…”
A hand touched my shoulder.
“What happened, daughter? You’re sweating so much.”
My breathing grew heavy. I was back—looking at my mother sitting on the sofa again.
Ugh!
“Daughter, are you okay?”
The sofa was soaked with vomit. It wouldn’t stop.
She came closer. I slapped her hand away.
“Daughter? I’ll get you some water to calm down.”
The sofa was already a mess. I grabbed the TV remote from the table and slammed it against the glass over and over.
My body shook violently.
I threw it away.
“What are you doing, Shim Bora? Have you gone mad?”
I couldn’t look at her face.
All I saw was that monstrous image in front of me.
“A-are you watching something?”
“Of course not. Can’t you see the TV is off?”
So… I dreamed it all?
The feeling had been too real. I could still taste the metallic blood.
My lungs still felt empty. But… a dream?
She handed me another glass of water.
“Go take a shower. I’ll clean this up.”
I stood slowly.
My hands pressed against my head—sharp, blinding pain.
I took the glass. It nearly slipped, but I managed to drink.
She took the empty glass from my trembling hand.
In the bathroom, a towel was already waiting.
I’d use that one.
I looked in the mirror—sweaty, sticky black hair.
I pulled a few strands back.
I couldn’t bring myself to meet my own blue eyes.
Some people said they had the depth of the ocean.
Right now, they only reflected pure despair.
“Yes… I’m fine. It was just a dream…”
I undressed and turned on the shower.
Cold water to calm my mind.
I pressed my fist against the tile. Water streamed down my face.
It’s okay.
I repeated it in my head.
I had to believe it was just a dream.
I pushed my wet hair back over my shoulders.
I hadn’t brought shampoo or conditioner.
Hope no one stole it.
Technically it wouldn’t be stealing if it was just left there.
He’s out of phone too.
I remembered Lucas. I had given him my number… but now I was the one without a phone.
Dream?
I turned off the shower.
I had lost my phone when I ran here.
Come to think of it, there had been no warning outside of what I saw.
And now… I couldn’t hear anything from outside.
I put on a short cardigan and jeans, then walked back to the living room.
Mom had moved the sofa and cleaned everything.
She was sitting in the middle of the room.
On the floor.
I walked toward her.
“Daughter, you have to tell me what’s going on. This isn’t normal. Did someone reject you?”
Ugh!
“Mom?”
“Sorry if that’s not it, but ever since you arrived you’ve been acting strange.”
“It’s nothing. I just felt sick.”
“Are you on your period?”
“Mom, stop. I really just… wasn’t feeling well.”
I covered my face with my hands.
“Hehe, I’m kidding, my daughter. But how was your trip? You haven’t told me anything.”
She patted the floor beside her for me to sit.
“It was—”
“Wait a second.”
Her phone started vibrating in her pocket.
“Let me take this.”
I saw the name on the screen: Daughter
“Hello? When are you arriving, Bora? You know your aunt came by last week hoping to see you. Too bad she came too early.”
“You’re getting senile, old lady. I’m not your daughter.”
I heard the other voice on the line.
“What are you saying, daughter? It says right here—”
I choked on my own saliva.
I tried to stand. My legs wouldn’t obey.
It was obvious something was wrong.
I had known from the beginning.
I just didn’t want to believe it.
I leaned against the wall.
Crack
I heard bones snapping through the phone—like a dry branch breaking.
My mother’s face began to peel.
Our eyes met.
This time there was nowhere to run.
She moved slowly. Closer. Closer.
And then…
“Wake up, hey—Shim Bora, wake up.”
“Where am I?”
“Don’t you recognize your own home?”
“Mom?”
A gentle hand rested on my head.
“No fever, but you’re very pale. Are you having hallucinations?”
Thick black beard. Hunter’s build.
“Dad?”
“You’re feeling better now? Want some wa—”
“Dad, I’m losing my mind. Please help me.”
I threw my arms around him.
I was going insane with everything happening.
I looked around the apartment—Mom’s place—but where was she?
“Dad… Mom, she… she—”
His eyes were sad.
He ruffled my hair.
“I know you miss her, daughter. But she died years ago.”
“No, Dad. She’s alive. You’re the one who died.”
I pulled away and clutched my head.
I noticed a bag on my shoulder.
I opened it. My phone was inside.
3%
I didn’t know why the battery was so low.
I opened the forum.
[Forced Evacuation] Due to the chaos the creatures caused, humanity lost. People are migrating to the towers. It’s dangerous, but governments believe it’s easier to survive in the towers than wait for total infection.
The Tower of Imagination is being assisted by a Brazilian Rank S hunter—he seems to have two very powerful abilities.
Evacuation to the Tower of Truth was completed yesterday. Japan also allowed immigrants to enter for evacuation.
Yesterday? How was this not announced anywhere?
I checked the date.
2%
23/05/2027
That’s impossible!
I was supposed to arrive on the 18th. What the hell was happening?
I looked out the window.
A tower—now just a pile of wrecked cars stacked outside.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
—Haha… hahahaha.
“Go fuck yourself, world.”
The thing pretending to be my father came closer.
“What are you doing by the window, Shim Bora? Be careful not to fall.”
The ground below was far. I’d probably be crushed into pulp.
Probably… better than staying with these monsters trying to drive me mad.
It wasn’t just confusion anymore. It was pure insanity.
I took a deep breath and jumped.
“No!”
I heard my father scream.
I don’t know what the worst recorded deaths are, but this was one I never want to repeat.
All I remember is the air being ripped from my chest, then the dry impact. No immediate pain—just my skull giving in, bending where it shouldn’t. A silent crack. Too much pressure, all at once. My teeth clashed. Vision exploded in black and white. Thought simply broke. No time to scream. The world shut off against the concrete, like someone flipped a switch.
!
I was beside the wall again.
“Yes, daughter, you’re coming today? Alright, bye. Next time charge your phone more.”
I slammed my face against the wall. Again.
Blood ran down my face.
“Hell… hell!”
I screamed as I smashed my forehead against the wall over and over.
Red covered my vision.
The thing’s neck twisted with a crack—head facing me while its body stayed turned the other way.
I opened my arms to the creature.
“Come on, ugly thing. Here I am. A young, pretty girl… I must taste great.”
It stopped.
Its head still crooked, neck creaking like rotten wood.
Those blue eyes I had known since childhood stared without blinking.
But now there was no white left—just huge pupils floating in dark red.
Then it lunged.
Its mouth opened wider than should be possible.
Cheek skin tore into thin strips like wet paper.
Irregular rows of teeth sprouted at once—some still growing, pushing against each other, clicking.
Thick, hot strands of saliva dripped onto my chest, burning like diluted acid. The smell was unbearable: iron, sweet rot, something that had once been alive.
I felt the first pressure of teeth against my scalp.
It wasn’t a clean bite. It was slow. Deliberate.
As if it wanted me to feel every millimeter of my skull giving way.
Pain came in hot white waves.
My teeth chattered.
I heard a wet, muffled crack inside my head—bone folding where it never should.
Vision flickered in black and white flashes.
I couldn’t scream. The air just wouldn’t come.
Triiim… triiim… triiim…
The phone.
In my pocket.
Vibrating against my thigh.
With the last shred of awareness, I fumbled and pulled it out.
The cracked screen lit up with its dying breath.
1%
Incoming call: Mom
The creature—my mother—was still there.
Mouth full of me, chewing slowly, almost tenderly.
But her neck stretched impossibly, turning sideways as if to better see the screen.
Her torn lips moved, even with part of my head inside her.
She whispered, voice thick with meat and blood:
“Daughter… answer it.
It’s important.”
My thumb brushed the screen by instinct.
I answered.
Silence on the other end.
Then slow, familiar breathing.
And then her voice—the same voice chewing my head right now—spoke in two places at once:
“Shim Bora… aren’t you going to open the door for me?”
Triiim… triiim…
It wasn’t the phone anymore.
It was the doorbell.
Right outside.
So close.
The thing holding me squeezed harder, as if trying to keep me from hearing.
But I heard.
The voice on the line—identical to the one inside my skull—whispered one last time:
“I’m already here, my daughter.
Open the door for Mommy.”












