3: 3

But I never expected that same night to see the dark figure in the stairwell again.

He was crouched in the shadow of the hallway, half his body pressed to the wall, working at the lock on the neighbor's door.

Every drop of blood in me froze.

Get involved? Last time I got involved, my mother was still lying in a hospital bed.

Stay out of it? That figure was creeping closer to her door.

I gritted my teeth and yanked out my phone. Before I could turn on the flash, all the screen showed was a smeared blur.

The figure heard the noise, spun around, and bolted downstairs, footsteps pounding on the steps, gone in a blink.

I gripped my phone and walked up to her door.

My hand rose halfway, hung there for two seconds, then dropped back down.

Let her deal with it herself. I said I was done, so I'm done.

I'd barely turned around when the door behind me flew open.

"I knew it was you!" the woman screeched. "You pervert, camped outside my place again! Were you the one just now messing with my lock?!"

I didn't stop. I kept walking toward home.

"I'm calling the cops! Right now!" She snatched out her phone and dialed. "There's a pervert crouched outside my door, stalking me, and he tried to pry my door open!"

I was shaking with anger. I turned and shoved my phone in her face. "Look. That's who was at your door just now. Not me."

She glanced at the blurry figure and slapped the phone out of my hand. "Keep acting. Go ahead, keep it up!"

"You get some accomplice to fake a stalking, then jump out and play the hero, so I'll thank you, is that it? That cheap little routine of yours, who do you think you're fooling?!"

"My mother's still in the hospital. You think I've got nothing better to do than put on a show for you?" I clenched my fists until the knuckles cracked.

"Oh, dragging your mother into it now?" Her laugh was shrill and vicious. "No wonder she's lying in a hospital bed. That's karma for all the rotten things you've done!"

Doors up and down the hall opened one after another.

"Him again? Even the banner in the daytime couldn't scare him off. The nerve on this guy."

"Come on, kid, that's enough. Just apologize to the girl. Getting the police involved makes everyone look bad."

"If you ask me, he staged the whole thing to win her over. I've seen plenty of creeps like him."

I clenched my jaw and said nothing. Not two minutes later, two officers came up the stairs.

The moment she saw them, her eyes went red. She dabbed at her tears and shrank behind them.

"It's him! Harassing me in the middle of the night, and he even planted a screwdriver as a prop for his little act!"

I bent down to pick up the screwdriver by my feet, the one he'd used on the lock. My fingers had barely touched it when she kicked it down the stairs, and it clattered down two flights.

The officers frowned. One crouched to pick it up, then looked at my cracked screen.

"The photo isn't clear, and the physical evidence can't be directly tied to anyone. We'll pull the complex's security footage tomorrow. In the meantime, keep your doors and windows locked, and call us right away if anything comes up."

The woman blew up on the spot. "What do you mean?! It was him! Why aren't you arresting him?!"

"Ma'am, we work from evidence." The officer's voice dropped.

The onlookers murmured among themselves. Low, but every word bored straight into my ears.

"The evidence is right there and they still won't arrest him. He must have connections."

"See how he doesn't even defend himself? Clearly guilty."

I stood where I was, and the fury I'd started with cooled into something cold and hollow.

By the time I got back from giving my statement, they were still clustered in the stairwell, pointing and whispering.

I lifted my eyes and swept the crowd of gawking neighbors, then fixed my gaze on the woman's face. Word by word, I said, "Listen carefully. If I ever lift a finger for your problems again, you can call me a lowlife."

Then I turned and went back inside, and the talk behind me shot up at once.

"See that? Guilty! Nothing to say, so he just spews threats!"

"Even after the cops showed up he still won't admit it! What a piece of garbage!"

"Let's see if he ever dares harass anyone again!"

The woman's voice was smug. "I told you he'd slip up!"

I didn't look back. I went inside and bolted the door.

The world finally went quiet.

I picked up the blood pressure pills on the table, ready to take them to my mother the next day.

But the next evening, the moment I got to the hospital,

the phone in my pocket suddenly buzzed like mad.

I opened it. At the very top was a video.

The neighbor's tearing, screaming sobs exploded out of the room. "Help! Someone's prying my door open!"

4: 4

Prying at her door?

My finger stopped on the screen. In the video, the sound of metal scraping the lock cylinder came through sharp and cold.

Creak — click!

One after another, the noise crawled under my skin.

The residents' group chat had already spat out over a hundred messages. The newest three were all voice notes, all tagging me.

"Everyone, come see for yourselves! It's him! He's holding a grudge because I exposed his little act yesterday, so today he sent someone to pry my door open for revenge!"

"I knew it, a sicko like you is petty to the bone! Play the quiet innocent all day, then pull something rotten behind everyone's back!"

"If anything happens to me, it's all your fault!"

Underneath, the pile-on scrolled fast, every name a familiar one.

"I said all along he wasn't a good person. Called out and now he's lashing out, terrifying!"

"So the dark figure was him this whole time. Gotten addicted to writing his own little drama, huh?!"

"No wonder his mom's laid up in the hospital. Rot at the top, rot at the bottom. Not one decent person in that family!"

I stared at the screen. My chest went tight at first, and the longer I stared, the more I actually laughed out loud.

Laughed at how stupid they were, and laughed at myself for hesitating two whole seconds yesterday.

I didn't type a single word of pointless defense.

I just opened my location, and took a photo of the caregiver card at the head of the hospital bed, the room number on the wall, and the water kettle steaming beside my hand.

Location and photo, both dropped straight into the group.

The corner of the photo showed the time, clear as day: 22:17, less than two minutes off from when she'd posted her video.

"I'm at the hospital. Your family's mess, keep me out of it."

The group went dead silent in an instant.

The messages that had been flying a second ago jammed hard against the one where I posted the picture.

A full half minute, and nobody said a thing.

After a long while, the third-floor resident who'd cursed the loudest finally squeezed out a line: "This location... isn't that really City General Hospital?"

"The photo doesn't look shopped either. So then... the one prying at the door isn't him?!"

"There couldn't actually be a burglar, could there?! The dark figure he mentioned yesterday, was it real?!"

Nobody brought up the word "revenge" again. The few who'd been jumping the hardest didn't even dare toss out something to smooth it over.

The neighbor's next voice note came right after, her voice clearly shaking, but she forced the bluff anyway: "You, you're lying! What's with the act?! You definitely shopped that photo in advance just to scare me!"

The words had barely left her when a dull thud hit outside her door.

The whole door shuddered with it. She cut off mid-word, the phone nearly slipping out of her hand.

The prying at the lock didn't stop. It got heavier.

Blow after blow, each one turning her insides cold.

She crept up to the peephole. All she could make out was a blurry dark figure pressed against the door, shoulders jerking, a baseball cap pulled low.

A layer of cold sweat shot up her back in an instant.

That wasn't right.

That wasn't right!

If he really was at the hospital, then who was standing at her door?!

The next second, the neighbor in the video cried out.

"You... who the hell are you!"