Rain hammered the empty streets as 17-year-old Ayan delivered food on his old bike. His phone buzzed — one last order before midnight. Big tip. He reached a dark mansion at the edge of town. The gate slowly opened by itself. Inside, no lights. No sound. A voice from the speaker whispered, “Leave the bag at the door… and don’t look back.” Ayan placed the food down, but curiosity pulled him toward a window. Inside, an old man sat alone at a giant table… with another plate already prepared. For someone invisible. Suddenly, the old man looked directly at Ayan through the glass and smiled. “You stayed this time.” The front door creaked open behind him. And a cold hand touched his shoulder.
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