The soft echo of my footsteps followed me like a shadow, each one louder than it should have been in the silence. The air felt heavier with every step I took, pressing in from all sides as I followed the compass.
Pausing for a moment, I looked around me.
I was once again back in the heart of the city. The only difference was the fact that there was no one present around me.
The streets were completely deserted. Not a soul was in sight, and the cobblestone path lay empty beneath the tall metal lamps that flickered weakly. The faint, uneven light cast an unsettling shadow, filling the air with a strange sense of oppression.
‘…..This does feel creepy.’
The only thought that was in my mind at the moment was not to make a single sound.
If this were truly like the Twisted Man scenario, then the last thing I needed to do was speak. I couldn’t let it hear my voice.
‘Still, looking at the compass, it does feel like I’m being led to a familiar road.’
As I looked around at the familiar streets and shops, a growing unease settled in. I was walking a path I had already traveled before. With every step I took following the compass, that feeling grew stronger until…
I entered a familiar narrow road, and my steps paused.
If I wasn’t sure of it before, I was almost certain of it now. I was… being led towards the old woman’s house again.
‘Oh, god…’
Looking at the road ahead and seeing the graffiti all over, alongside the cracks on the cobblestone path, I knew that the only notable thing ahead was the old woman’s house.
That was where the compass was leading me, and I pressed my lips tightly.
Taking a silent breath, I clutched onto the compass while thinking about the description of the compass. There was indeed a small part that said it would lead me to somewhere unexpected. I had somewhat prepared myself for it, but who would’ve thought it would lead me all the way back to the old woman’s house?
Just recalling the place made my stomach churn.
I really didn’t want to go back to that trash-filled place.
But…
When was the last time I actually followed my own cowardice?
‘Even though I say I hate something and I don’t want to go, I still go. I really just love doing this to myself.’
Shaking my head, I continued walking ahead before eventually spotting a familiar-looking apartment. The lights were off, and the place looked deserted.
This made me feel a lot better.
‘Right, this is a different world… Another place. The old lady shouldn’t be here. Perhaps the compass is making me go back here because I missed something back then?’
It wasn’t like I had actually done a very good job at investigating the place.
Thinking about it, the only thing that I managed to get out of it was the photographs that depicted her two husbands in the same scenario, standing by the same train.
Maybe there was more that I needed to discover?
I moved cautiously toward the house, scanning my surroundings. Once I reached the door, I paused and placed my hand on the doorknob, feeling its cold, metallic surface against my skin.
With just a turn of my wrist, a faint clicking sound echoed, and the door turned.
Click!
“…..”
I remained rooted in place, looking down at my surroundings.
Although the sound was small, it was loud enough to attract the attention of the Twisted Man. If the Twisted Man was truly here, I’d see some sort of hint about its presence.
But…
Nothing.
Even as I flashed a light above me, there appeared to be nothing in my shadow.
The Twisted Man was nowhere in sight.
I sighed in relief the moment I noticed this, but I didn’t let my guard down. The Twisted Man was a tricky anomaly. This could very well be within its plans if it were truly here.
Opening the door slightly, I held my breath while waiting for the inevitable stench to hit my nostrils, but…
‘Huh?’
Coming into the apartment, the sight that I had expected wasn’t there.
What was once an extremely filthy place, littered with trash and debris, now looked completely different. The floor was spotless, almost unnaturally clean, as if the mess had never been there to begin with. Although the wallpaper still peeled at the edges and carried a sickly yellow tint, the space felt far more maintained than before, throwing me off entirely.
What the hell happened to this place?
‘Why is it so well maintained?’
It almost felt like a completely different place.
But that wasn’t the only thing that gathered my attention. Staring in the distance. Towards the now pristine living room where the TV was located, my eyes immediately fell on the gigantic circle that was deeply etched onto the floor.
‘This is…’
I suddenly had flashbacks of the time I was under the sofa and noticed the marking. Because of how many clothes and trash there were on the floor, I wasn’t able to see the entire thing, but now that everything was clear, the marking became clear to me.
It was a gigantic red circle, marked onto the floor with several symbols that I couldn’t recognize.
As I stared at it, a chill ran through me. Something about it felt deeply wrong, and an unsettling pressure began to creep over my skin.
A sinister feeling crept up my skin the more I stared at the circle, and just as I was about to move, the TV flared to life.
Flick!
“…..!”
I half expected the familiar nursery rhyme to suddenly play out, but that wasn’t what played out on the TV.
Far from it.
At first, there was only static. Then a video flickered to life, its image grainy and distorted, like an old VHS tape playing after years of dust and disuse.
A low, vibrating hum bled into the air, growing louder, more invasive, like something alive gnawing at the edges of my mind. Shapes began to take form on the screen as figures, draped in white robes that covered their faces, encircled a red symbol scrawled into the ground.
The markings pulsed faintly, and at the center stood a single person.
It was a man.
He wore the same suit. The same top hat.
And as I slowly retrieved the first photograph and brought it forward, I knew exactly who the figure was.
It was the first husband.
Before I even had the time to properly process the situation, rhymes and hums began to echo from the TV as the magic circle beneath the man pulsed even more powerfully. I watched as the man started to panic. He tried to rush out of the circle, but was kept inside by the white robed people.
‘No, it almost feels like he’s met some sort of wall…’
An invisible wall?
He looked desperate as he tried to get out, but there was no use.
He couldn’t get out. No matter how much he banged on the wall. No matter how much he begged. He couldn’t get out.
…And as this happened, his eyes were locked onto a specific white robed figure.
The entire time, he looked at that figure.
And soon…
He stopped.
No, it wasn’t that he stopped; it was as if something had taken complete control of his body. Like a puppet whose strings had been yanked taut.
Crack!
Then, without warning, his head snapped backward with a sickening jolt, followed by his arm and the folds of his clothes twisting in unnatural directions.
I watched the scene with wide eyes as the scenes continued for the next several minutes.
And by the time it was over, it felt like the very air had been ripped from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.
I could only stare, frozen, as my eyes clung to the flickering recording.
There, looming in the center of the frame, stood a tall, familiar figure. Its limbs were unnaturally long, stretched beyond human proportions, and its face was hidden beneath the shadow of a tall, crooked top hat.
It didn’t move.
It didn’t need to.
Despite appearing within the recording, its presence alone was suffocating, like the screen itself was bleeding dread into the room.
‘Twisted Man…’
That was the Twisted Man.