As Annie took a step toward the door, Arda quickly straightened up.
"I lost my way while chasing my dog into the forest," the old woman said in a sorrowful voice. Even though they couldn't see her, just from her voice, one could imagine a sweet elderly lady standing behind the door. She was probably wrapped in a floral gray sweater from years past, with a headscarf tied neatly on her head and a cardigan draped over her shoulders for warmth.
Under normal circumstances, Arda wouldn't have hesitated to open the door for someone like her. After all, what harm could come from a sweet old lady?
But his father had warned them—specifically. And that made him hesitate.
Maybe this was part of the test? Maybe opening the door, even for an innocent-looking old woman, would mean instant failure?
Arda was kind. He didn't want to see innocent people suffer.
"I'm so cold, children. Won't you let me in?"
"Really?" Annie asked, her voice filled with concern. She turned to Arda. "Arda, Dad wouldn't have warned us about someone like her, right? He meant bad people… right? Maybe we should let her in?"
Arda frowned, struggling to decide.
"I also have cookies, children. We can share them together."
Annie's eyes lit up. "Arda! She has cookies!"
Seeing that her brother wasn't objecting, Annie eagerly moved toward the door.
But just as she reached for the handle, Arda suddenly shouted, "Wait!"
Annie turned to him, startled.
"Don't open it!" Arda's voice was firm, almost panicked. His brows were drawn together. He had realized something.
He stepped closer to the door. "Hey, Auntie!"
"Yes, dear?"
"How did you know my sister wasn't alone?"
Silence.
That was the strange thing Arda had just noticed.
Yes, Annie had spoken, and yes, he had responded—but they had both spoken softly. And with the wind howling outside, an elderly woman with aging ears shouldn't have been able to hear them so clearly.
The curtains were shut tight. There was no way she could have seen them.
So how did she know there were two of them? Why had she addressed them as "children"?
"What kind of question is that, dear? I just assumed a little girl wouldn't be out here alone at this hour. Anyway, it's freezing out here. Can we talk inside?"
"Arda, she's cold," Annie pleaded, her eyes begging him. She was still ready to open the door.
But Arda couldn't shake the unease in his gut. His instincts had always been strong—stronger than he could explain. His body often reacted to danger before his mind even processed it.
And right now, his entire being screamed that opening this door would be a terrible mistake.
"No." Arda's voice was firm. "We can't let you in, Auntie. I'm sorry."
The woman's voice wavered with shock. "What will I do out here, child? The wolves… the cold… they'll get me."
"Arda!" Annie protested.
Again, Arda hesitated. His heart ached at the thought of leaving an old woman alone in the dark forest.
But his instincts were louder than his heart.
He clenched his jaw. "We can't. Please… just go."
A deep sadness entered the woman's voice. "I see… You must be scared since I came so late at night. I understand, children… Good night."
Soft footsteps retreated into the darkness.
As soon as she was gone, Arda exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His body had been tense from the moment she knocked.
"Ugh, Arda!" Annie groaned. "Why didn't we let her in? She was cold! She was scared! And she had cookies!" She emphasized the last part dramatically.
"We couldn't, Annie. Don't you remember what Dad said?"
"I do, but she was just an old lady!"
Arda couldn't deny it. She really had seemed like just an old woman.
What could she possibly do? Pull a gun out of nowhere? And even if she did, this flimsy wooden door wouldn't stop her.
But that was only true in a normal situation.
And this wasn't a normal situation.
Arda hadn't gotten here by normal means. He had fallen from the 100th floor of a building.
So whatever was happening here… wasn't normal.
"Dad told us, no matter what they say, no matter who they are, don't open the door. That includes old ladies."
"But… but…"
"I know it doesn't make sense, Annie. But we have to trust Dad."
Arda pulled Annie into a comforting hug and led her away from the door.
She sulked, her excitement from earlier completely gone.
But there was nothing Arda could do about that. He hadn't expected any of this either.
If there had been a murderer or a wild animal outside, he wouldn't have been surprised.
But an old woman…? That was strange.
Something bigger was happening here.
Something… unnatural.
Arda glanced around, reevaluating the situation.
'Middle of the night. A cabin. A forest. A strange visitor knocking at the door.'
When he put all the pieces together, a clearer picture formed in his mind.
'This feels like a ghost story.'
He thought about the horror stories he had heard before. One in particular came to mind.
It wasn't just about ghosts. It was about demons. Or malevolent spirits.
He didn't remember the full story, but he remembered the rules.
And one rule fit this situation perfectly.
Evil spirits—or demons—couldn't enter unless they were invited in.
That explained why their father had warned them.
"And why this flimsy old door had been enough to keep whatever was outside from getting in.
'That changes everything.'
If he were dealing with something physical, he could fight it. Maybe he wouldn't win, but at the very least, he'd make sure his enemy paid for it.
But if this was something… beyond physical—something like a ghost—he might not even realize he was dead before it was too late.
It wasn't death that scared him, though.
He had already died once.
What scared him… was Annie getting hurt.
Now that he understood what they were up against, his resolve hardened.
No matter who—or what—stood on the other side of that door, he wouldn't hesitate again.
…
…
…
About fifteen minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time, it was loud and frantic.
The sudden noise made Annie jump in fright.
Arda, however, was prepared this time. He quickly clamped his hand over Annie's mouth, stopping her from responding.
"Is anyone there!?" a voice shouted from outside. The man was out of breath, and his voice was filled with fear.
Arda didn't answer.
"Please, help me!! Please!!" The desperation in his voice was so intense that it felt almost tangible.
Annie's warm breath hit Arda's palm. She was tense—understandably so. The last visitor had been a sweet old lady, someone who, despite the odd situation, had seemed harmless. But now, the one pleading for help was a grown man, screaming in terror.
"Please! If someone is in there, open the door!" The banging on the door intensified, followed by a terrified scream. "There's a bear! It's coming for me! It's going to tear me apart! Hurry!!"
'A bear?!'
The words stunned Arda. The man's fear was so real, so raw, that for a split second, he hesitated.
And in that split second—Annie broke free from his grip!
She sprinted toward the door.
"I'm coming!!" she cried out.
"No!" Arda lunged after her, catching her just before she reached the door.
"Oh, thank God!" The man outside gasped with relief, stopping his pounding on the door. "Please, let me in! The bear is getting closer! Please!!!"
"Let me go, Arda! He's going to die!!" Annie struggled against his hold, her eyes welling up with tears.
Earlier, when the situation had been calmer, Arda had time to think, to analyze. But now—now everything was happening too fast. Someone's life was on the line, and Annie was too panicked to think clearly.
"Snap out of it, Annie! Do you really think it's normal to have two visitors in one night? There's something off about this!"
"Please! I'm not suspicious, I swear! If you don't let me in, I'm going to die!! I'm begging you!!" The man's voice broke into sobs, proving he had heard their conversation.
Tears streamed down Annie's face. "Are you sure, Arda? What if he's telling the truth?"
Arda's expression darkened. He shook his head. "The chances of that are close to zero, Annie. What are the odds that, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the forest, two different people would come knocking on this cabin's door? And for such bizarre reasons?"
"AAAGH! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!!" The banging turned violent. "IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE! AAAAAAAAAAGHHH!!!"
Annie's breathing grew rapid and uneven.
ROOOOAAARRR!!!
A deep, guttural roar echoed from outside.
It sounded like a bear.
And it was close.
"Arda, there's really a bear! We have to open the door!!" Annie thrashed against his grip.
Arda was shaken.
Was the guy telling the truth?!
Even so, he didn't loosen his grip on Annie.
Once again, his heart and instincts were at war.
His heart screamed at him to open the door and save the man from being ripped apart.
But his instincts warned him that this could be a trap.
Yet—even his instincts hesitated.
Whoever was out there was an incredible actor. Because if this was a trick, they were faking fear perfectly.
And in the midst of his hesitation—
"AAAGH! NO, PLEASE, STOP! AAGH! IT HURTS! STOOOP! AAGH! AAAAAAAGH!!!"
The man's agonized screams filled the night as the bear's snarls rumbled just outside the door.
The sickening crunch of breaking bones drowned out even the howling wind.
Arda's face twisted in horror as he hurriedly clamped his hands over Annie's ears.
But he was too late. She had already heard it.
Her face was frozen in a tight grimace, tears falling like a waterfall.
Even though Annie couldn't hear it anymore—Arda could.
The screams. The snapping bones.
He couldn't see it, but he could picture what was happening outside.
And in that moment—an awful wave of regret crashed over him.
What if he'd been wrong?
What if there was nothing supernatural going on?
What if their father's warning had just been a precaution—a way to keep them safe from the real threat: wild animals?
Like the one currently tearing that man apart.
After a while, the screams stopped.
Only the sounds of chewing remained.
Arda's hands, still pressed over Annie's ears, were damp with sweat.
Yet, strangely—he couldn't cry.
He felt bad for the man, of course. But the tears wouldn't come.
Maybe it was because he had already experienced death once.
Maybe he had simply become numb to it.
That thought disturbed him.
He didn't care if his life ended.
But he didn't want to become indifferent to the deaths of good people.
Even if he was physically dead—he still wanted to be a good person.
The chewing sounds continued for a while before heavy footsteps began to fade into the distance.
Finally, Arda lowered his hands.
Annie immediately threw her arms around him and sobbed into his chest.
Arda hugged her back.
But this time, he didn't try to comfort her.
Because he knew—it would be impossible.