Detective Elias Graves had seen many strange cases in his career, but none like this.

Room 306 of the Blackwood Hotel had vanished. Not just emptied, not just locked—gone. Where the door should have been, there was only a smooth, unbroken wall.

The manager, pale and shaking, swore it had been there the night before. "A guest checked in. Henry Lancaster. But this morning… the room was just gone."

Elias ran his hand over the wall. No seams, no hidden panels. Just plaster where a door should be. He checked the hotel’s records—Lancaster had indeed checked in. His luggage was still listed in the system. But now, no one could find him.

Determined, Elias examined the floor plan. Room 306 had to be there—but when he measured the hallway, the space where it should have been simply did not exist.

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A maid hesitated before whispering, "This has happened before."

Elias turned sharply. "What do you mean?"

She bit her lip. "Years ago. A woman stayed in that room. She vanished without a trace. The next morning, the room was gone—just like now. Then, after a week, the door came back. But no one was inside. Just… her suitcase. Open. Empty."

Elias felt a chill creep up his spine.

That night, he set up a chair outside where the door should be, determined to keep watch. Midnight came. Then one. Then two.

At exactly 3:06 AM, the air shimmered.

Elias blinked. And suddenly, a door stood before him—dark wood, brass handle, exactly like the others.

Holding his breath, he reached for the knob.

The moment his fingers touched it, the door swung open on its own.

And inside, Room 306 was waiting. The bed was neatly made. The lamp flickered. And in the dim light, a single suitcase sat in the corner.

Open.

Empty.