"Room No. 77"

"Room No. 77"

I collected my room key from the hotel reception, the golden number "77" gleaming on it. The receptionist, an elderly woman, looked at me strangely, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

She hesitated, then finally said, "Nothing… just… if you hear any noises at night, don’t open the door."

I chuckled. "Are you trying to scare me?"

She didn’t respond. She simply lowered her gaze.

Shrugging, I walked towards the elevator. My room was on the top floor. As I stepped into the long, empty hallway, my footsteps echoed eerily. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and tossed the key onto the table.

The room was ordinary, but something felt… off. There was an unusual silence in the air, as if even the walls were holding their breath. I walked over to the window—below, the city lights flickered, but my attention kept drifting back to the door.

"If you hear any noises, don’t open the door."

Her words echoed in my mind. I shook my head and lay down on the bed, dismissing the thought.

2:00 AM

A faint sound woke me up.

Tap… tap… tap…

Someone was knocking on my door.

My heart pounded in my chest. I grabbed my phone—2:00 AM. Who could it be?

Tap… tap… tap…

The knocking continued, soft yet persistent. I hesitated, then cautiously peered through the peephole.

No one was there.

As soon as I pulled away, the knocking resumed.

A chill ran down my spine. I remembered the receptionist’s warning and decided not to open the door.

Tap… tap… TAP…

The knocking grew louder, more urgent, as if someone was desperate to get inside.

Sweat trickled down my forehead. I tried to step back, but my feet felt glued to the floor.

Then suddenly… silence.

I held my breath, straining to hear any movement. Nothing.

"Maybe it was just my imagination." I muttered and lay back down.

Just as my eyes started to close, a whisper drifted through the air.

"You didn’t open the door… good choice… but now it’s too late."

My blood ran cold.

I jolted upright—my heart hammering—only to see something that froze me in place.

The key, which I had left on the table, was now inserted in the door.

And the door… was slowly creaking open on its own.

The Next Morning

The receptionist unlocked the room door. The room was empty. The belongings were untouched, the bed neatly made, as if no one had ever stayed there. But something was odd.

The key was still hanging in the door… and the window was wide open.

Far below, on the pavement outside the hotel, a crowd had gathered around a motionless figure.

A man lay on the ground.

In his clenched hand was a crumpled piece of paper, with only three words written on it:

"DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!"

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