Chapter 3: Five in the Apartment

I finally got back to our little shared apartment.

The door opened with a familiar creak. The lights were off. The only glow came from the TV.

Three people sat on the couch, staring at the screen, unmoving. The TV volume was turned way down, like a silent film.

Their faces looked almost ghostly in the flickering light, eyes glassy, skin pale as milk. I hovered in the doorway, suddenly unsure if I should step inside.

The flickering light made their faces shift between light and shadow.

Hearing me come in, they all turned to look at me at the same time.

It was Lillian—tall, buzz-cut, a nose ring gleaming in the blue light; Tanya—her hair wrapped up in a silk scarf, hands white-knuckled in her lap; and Marcus—athletic, dark-skinned, with big, watchful eyes.

The bathroom door behind me opened, and Derek came out too.

He was toweling off his hands, eyes darting from me to the others like he’d just walked into a tense family meeting.

"I knocked earlier. Why didn’t you open the door for me?" I asked.

"After we got home, we all got a message," Lillian explained first.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the thick air in the living room.

Tanya huddled in Marcus’s arms, looking terrified, sobbing softly: "I was too scared to open the door."

Her shoulders shook, and Marcus—always the calm one—held her tight, shooting me an apologetic look.

Marcus looked at me and pursed his lips. "I thought it was a prank. Looks like it’s real."

He didn’t look convinced, but the words hung between us, heavy and final.

As if to confirm their words, I got a new message:

[Management will conduct a home inspection. Please cooperate.]

[Management staff will wear blue uniforms and carry a notebook.]

[Do not open the door to anyone except management staff.]

The screen glared cold and blue. I read the words twice, just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

"The three of us got home one after another around ten. As soon as we walked in, we got this message," Lillian continued.

Her voice wavered, but she held up her phone as proof. Tanya wiped her eyes and nodded.

"So you didn’t open the door for me just because it said not to?" I was a little angry. "We’re roommates!"

I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice. Even though it’s a shared apartment, we’ve always gotten along, cooking and hanging out together.

Just because of a weird message, you won’t open the door?

I wanted to argue, but worried that raising my voice might count as noise, so I held back.

My teeth clenched, but I bit back my words. I glanced at the wall clock—past midnight now.

"Alex." Derek called out, his voice trembling a little. "There are four of us renting together..."

That hit me like a punch.

I counted the people in the room over and over. No mistake, five people.

We’re renting a three-bedroom for four people.

There’s one extra person.

Who is it?

I looked from face to face, searching for something out of place, but everyone looked just as scared as I felt.

"That’s how it is. We all think we’re tenants in this apartment, but we also know there are only four tenants." Marcus folded his arms.

His voice was flat, but I could hear the fear underneath. "Don’t joke with me." A chill ran down my spine. "Did someone bring a friend to stay overnight..."

I couldn’t help but scan the room again, as if a stranger might suddenly materialize out of the shadows.

"No," everyone answered in unison.

Their voices overlapped in a chorus of denial. And yet, in my memory, all five of us are tenants. No one knows who the extra person is—everyone thinks they’re sharing the apartment with the others.

Strangely, I can name them all, but can’t remember which room each person lives in.

My mind raced, trying to recall—hadn’t Derek always had the smallest room? Or was that Lillian? Everything was a blur.

Derek told me that after he came back, he found that all three bedroom doors had labels. The master bedroom with its own bathroom said "Dad & Mom," the south-facing room said "Younger Sister," the north-facing room said "Older Sister," and the sofa in the living room was labeled "Older Brother."

He laughed nervously, "Guess I’m stuck on the couch."

[You are the father. No matter if you are male or female, young or old, you are the father.]

[You have a wife and three children: older brother, older sister, younger sister. You live in Apartment 502.]

"Follow the guidance of the real rules and play your role well."

I got it.

I looked at the others. "Right before eleven, did everyone get a message about their identity? We need to live according to that identity."

I’m the father, Tanya is the mother, Derek is the older brother, Lillian is the older sister, and Marcus is the younger sister.

As I said it, the words felt unreal, like I was reading a script for someone else’s family.

Buzz buzz—

A new message alert:

[Management home inspection has begun. Only the parent can speak with management staff.]

At the same time, the doorbell rang.

A chime that usually meant pizza or a friend, but tonight it sounded like a warning.

Five of us, but only four belong. Someone here isn’t real—and none of us know who.