Valencia steps through the small apartment’s front door, and a chilling gust of night air swirls onto her skin following her inside. It is almost 10 p.m., and the city outside is alive with beats of music and chatter. Yet, from the outside, the apartment building feels lifeless as if it is abandoned. Inside, the stairwell is dimly lit, the white bulbs casting uneven shadows on the narrow walls. As the young woman ascends the stairs, she encounters a university student around the corner, his arms full of textbooks. He pauses, looking at her curiously.
“Are you new here?” he asks with a friendly and soft tone.
Valencia stares at him for a moment, and without a word, she shakes her head and continues up the stairs. Her silence leaves an awkwardness hanging in the air. He watches her ascend quietly, his gaze lingering until she vanishes up the stairwell. Then, with a small shrug, he retreats to his room.
Inside the designated apartment, idol posters and Japanese-style artwork line neatly on the walls, the showcase shelves are filled with dust-free figurines, and several pots of indoor plants that are turning brown. The light blue-haired woman stands silently in the living room, observing her surroundings. The air inside here is thick, lacking any sign of ventilation, and feels suffocating.
The oddest thing, however, is how the apartment seems completely sealed off from the outside world. Every single door and window are locked with multiple locks and chains as if the occupant is keeping themselves safe or someone – or keeping something – out. All the blinds are tightly shut, preventing any light from breaking through and that explains the unnaturally chilly despite the typical tropical climate here. The sun hasn’t reached inside for quite some time, Valencia thought.
Moments later, the client enters the room. She is an average woman of normal height with short dark hair. She moves with a slight hesitation and stiff, in her hands, carrying a tray with store-bought snacks and beverages for the once-in-a-lifetime guest. Her posture is slumped and a faint tremble on her hands is visible as she sets the tray down and sits across Valencia at the dining table. The woman appears weak and exhausted, thinner than a person should be, her skin pale as though she hadn’t eaten properly or seen sunlight in days.
“You’re from The Lotus group, right?” The woman begins nervously. Seeing the visitor nod, her voice tones down as she continues, “They told me someone would come. May I ask for your name?”
“It’s safer for both of our security if I keep my name anonymous,” Valencia explains. “You can call me Lotus,” she says with a faint, polite smile.
“Ah, I see,” she says awkwardly, glancing away. “My name is Mali. Thank you again for coming at this hour…”
The female client nervously introduces herself and pauses, looking slightly hesitant when catching on Valencia's appearance. The woman’s dark suit seems very out of place in this weather, a peculiar choice for a country where summer dominated year-round. No visible equipment, no tools or instruments to suggest she is prepared for this commission. The light-blue-haired woman lightly smiles at Mali, anticipating her to speak out her scepticism…
Mali, a notable V-Tuber, has gained a sizable number of subscribers and has once been known for her energetic gaming streams and charming personality with a charismatic V-Tuber model. But things had taken a darker turn. It all started after the new year. She had started hearing whispers– unintelligible murmurs of multiple people– that seemed to come from nowhere during her livestream. At first, she had brushed it off as her neighbours talking or her imagination playing tricks on her, but the whispers grew more frequent, especially past midnight when the noise seemed to grow louder and more distinct. She had assumed it was her neighbours, but when she visited them to ask about it, she discovered all lived alone and had no guests. The noise didn’t stop. In fact, it grew clearer as the weeks passed. It sounded like the voices of a male group discussing something, a plan to do something…obnoxious.
“A new victim for us. How should we do it?” One of the eerie voices had whispered. “We will use the rope when she opens the door…” Another voice followed, whispering next to her ears. The words sent a cold shiver down her spine. “They” wanted her dead.
At this point, Mali had begun to doubt her sanity, thinking rationally, she might be hearing auditory hallucinations. She sought therapy, hoping to subside the symptoms, but unfortunately, the phenomenon only intensified. Not long after, strange dark figures began to appear behind her during the stream. Only she could see them, as they were visible on her monitor meant to track her movements for her virtual avatar. Mali saw them–headless, disfigured shapes of bodies, their faces hidden in darkness. They were just there, stood silently behind her, as if inspecting her every move. Every time she turned around to look, they would disappear, only to reappear when she began a new live stream.
The disturbances didn’t stop there. At first, it was just a loud banging on the door. Forceful foot stomps that seemed to come from nowhere, as though someone, or something, was trying to get in. The walls trembled and the sound echoed through her small apartment, laying on her bed she could feel all the slight vibrations. The banding moved from the door to the windows, it was like someone knocking from the outside. This wouldn’t have been strange, except for the fact that Mali was living on the fourth floor. And yet, the knocking came, persistent from all directions. From door to window, from windows to door, beneath her feet, above her head, and all around her. Every sleepless night, Mali found herself living in constant fear, and anxiety destroying her mental and physical well-being. Her V-Tuber persona was slipping away and she was slowly losing her community.
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In the end, she was clinically diagnosed with schizophrenia, and for a time, she believed it. However, things changed when her close friends, concerned for her well-being, decided to visit her apartment. They had heard about the strange occurrences but had dismissed them as part of Mali’s psychotic symptoms. That is, until they experienced it for themselves, the friends had witnessed it all: the eerie murder-intent conversations, the banging, and even the figures–dark shadows that now manifesting clearly before them. The paranormal was real, her friends’, including Mali herself, confirmed that was the final proof that Mali had not been experiencing a mental disorder, but something far more sinister.
Desperate for solutions, Mali had contacted monks, priests, even self-claimed and spiritual mediums and sorcerers who claimed to be able to exorcise vengeful spirits– people like Valencia.
“Uh,” Mali continues after a long intense stare from Valencia, “My ‘agent’ told me that you specialised in exorcising spirits, like a sorcerer?”
Valencia’s lips curl upward, but she keeps speaking in a professional tone. “We don’t usually use the term sorcerer,” she explains, her fingers brushing against the cold glass of orange juice. “We, I mean, What I do isn’t just about exorcising spirits. I don’t see things like you do, but I can feel, interact, and force ‘them’ to leave the ‘two worlds’ when necessary, and…” She pauses, eyes locking on Mali, who is not supposed to know any more than that. “As for the details, I’m afraid I can’t share them, as per our contract. Some things are not meant to be known, right?”
Mali listens in silence, looking even more sceptic than she already is, the strange woman’s explanations are cryptic to her. Is this some kind of scam? She thought. But the anonymous broker – Agent Y – who had arranged this meeting was as official as they come. A private investigator specializing in crimes and unusual cases is highly recommended by those in the circle. Someone like that wouldn’t risk their reputation on something as trivial. Yet, here is a mysterious person, sitting across from her, seemingly without a care in the world. No salt, no incense, no talisman. She is just a lady in a suit in the middle of the warm night. How could someone claim to exorcise spirits without so much as a holy tool or special item?
The uneasiness only grew, but despite her doubts, there is no turning back now. She has tried every single possible way to solve this haunting problem that had been tormenting her for the past six months– rituals, blessings, moving furniture and even as well as spending her stream fundings to renovate her room to change the “energy flow”. Nothing had worked. Absolutely nothing.
Even so…something about Valencia felt different. It was as though this woman was the only one who could truly help her. Maybe it’s just her composure, Mali thought. Her reassured and confident features…maybe they’re the reason why I felt…hopeful.
Mali takes in a deep breath. “All right, I’ll put my trust in you, Miss…Lotus,” she begins with a sound of resignation in her voice. Valencia nods, her calm demeanour suggesting she has already anticipated Mali’s decision.
“First, I should explain what’s been happening– “. Mali began, her voice trembling slightly, but before she could continue, Valencia raised a hand to stop her.
“There’s no need for a lengthy explanation again,” she says with an unsettling calmness. “I already know what’s going on.”
Mali blinked, momentarily stunned. “W-What? Wait, I haven’t even told Agent Y the full details of what’s happening in my apartment. How could you possibly–”
Valencia cuts her off, her voice unwavering as she recites the occurrences with unnerving precision. “You’ve been hearing whispers. Not just any whispers, they are more like a discussion plan for murder. You’ve seen shadowy figures when you’re live streaming. The banging that comes from every direction at once. And the last occurrence of the shadow figures makes you contact an exorcist.” She tilts her head slightly. “Am I wrong?”
Mali’s eyes widen, it is shockingly accurate that makes her jaw drop. “That’s…that’s exactly right...But how could you know all that?”
Valencia slowly rises from her seat, gazing down at the woman’s eyes that are filled with fear yet a contradicting feeling of optimism. “It’s my job to know,” she says, a faint hint of confidence in her tone can be heard as she smiles slyly.
Before Mali could press her further, a sudden, thunderous BANG ripped through the room, followed by another, and another.
BANG.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG....
Then the entire apartment seems to tremble violently as the sounds come from everywhere – walls, ceiling, floor – as if the entire apartment is being struck by an unseen force all at once. Mali froze, her breath came in short, panicked gasps as she clutched the edge of her armchair. The colour drains from her face, her wide eyes darting frantically around the room.
Just as suddenly as it began, the banging stopped abruptly. Suffocating silence hung in the air as if a storm had stopped before a new one emerged.
Then, the silence is replaced by chilling laughter. It is soft at first, barely more than a trick of the mind, it grows louder and multiplied. It wasn’t just laughter. It was a celebration. The kind that reeks of something wicked, as if unseen beings reveal their dominion over the living. The sound of high-pitched giggles mixed with guttural murmurs, the disembodied voices echoing from every corner.
Mali’s trembling hands rise to cover her ears, whimpering, “Make it stop…please, make it stop…”
Valencia stands still with an unreadable expression, she is unshaken by the occurrence. She scans the room with an uncanny stillness, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile that hints at something far more sinister.
With a deliberate step forward, she adjusts her stance, her voice steady and composed. “I shall begin your so-called exorcism,” she says, her tone almost mocking. “Starting now.”