Illya glanced towards Oz and saw the boy already asleep made obvious by the soft snores that filled the quiet room. The door continued to move open, wider and wider, beckoning her to go out. If this was her doing, then she might just have something to show her. Illya could only hope they were answers that she had been waiting to be answered, because as stupid as it may sound, the white-haired girl is already scrambling out of her futon, careful to not wake Oz.
“This is just like in horror movies,” Illya muttered to herself before a shaky breath was released. The sense of foreboding in her stomach still persisted, but something tells Illya she needed to go to the bottom of whatever it may be. I’m going to die, she thought dejectedly with a gulp as she inched closer to the hallway outside h
