Tien frantically searched for his car, desperate to escape. But like everything else in the house, the car had vanished. The children were still calling his name, sliding slowly toward him. Their feet never left the ground, dragging along the rough, concrete surface and leaving bloody trails behind. Tien tried to back away, but realized he was barely moving. As they drew nearer, he apologized for everything, even though he couldn't remember what he had done—or even their names. The children stopped, their faces filled with sadness. The girl in the blackened pink shirt broke away from the group, took his hands, and stared directly into his eyes.

Her hands were cold and stiff, yet they brought a strange warmth. When Tien looked into her eyes, he was nervous at first, but soon he felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. A vision appeared before him: seven children, including himself, playing together—one girl and six boys. They were joyful and carefree, but the scene shifted each time Tien had to leave for Saigon. The remaining six always seemed devastated by his departure, their heartbreak lingering until his next visit. Scene after scene played out, each one weighing heavily on Tien's heart.

Then, in one vision, they made a solemn promise to stay together forever. They sealed it with a blood vow, cutting their palms. The girl had to do most of the cutting, as the boys hesitated. One of them, terrified of blood, ran off after his palm was cut—and never returned. Later, Tien learned he had drowned. The rest of the group was devastated, particularly the girl. She vowed to honor their promise, no matter what.

The scene shifted to her discovering an ancient ritual, buried beneath a dead tree. She commanded the remaining boys to meet her at a secret location. They waited in a corner of the cemetery for Tien, but he never arrived. The scene abruptly cut off.

The five children stared at Tien, awaiting an explanation for his absence. Tien confessed that he couldn’t remember why he didn’t show up. They smiled and took his hands, pulling him toward something unseen. He allowed them to lead him, but a nagging doubt gnawed at him.

Something wasn’t right. In the past, the group had seven members, but now, including him, there were eight. Quietly, Tien glanced at the two boys with their heads bowed—they had no faces. His childhood friends must all be dead, and now they intended to add him to their ranks. All the strange events were their doing. Panic surged through him as he realized they wanted to drag him into their world.

Summoning all his strength, Tien ripped his hands free from theirs and hit himself hard in the face.

Blood gushed from his nose as Tien snapped back to reality. He had fallen asleep in front of his mom’s old house. Terrified, he sprinted toward his car. Remembering the ominous morning, he ditched the car and hailed a taxi instead. Inside the taxi, his phone began to buzz with notifications. He had missed several calls and messages from both his wife and his mom. They must have been worried sick since they couldn’t reach him. He attempted to call them back, but his phone wouldn’t respond. Perhaps it was better this way; they wouldn’t believe what he had experienced anyway. Tien decided that, when he returned home, he would tell them his car broke down and his phone malfunctioned—the latter being true enough.

A week later, Tien visited a doctor, who was at a loss to explain his symptoms. On the way home, he picked up his newly repaired phone and immediately called his mom. He wanted answers—he had tried researching his childhood friends, but found nothing.

“Hi, son!” his mom answered cheerfully. “Feeling guilty about not helping me with the move? Don’t worry, I hired movers. They did a better job than you would have!”

“Hi, Mom. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, but why do you sound so serious?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “Did the doctor say something bad? Is your ex-wife bothering you again?”

“Mom, I need you to be honest with me,” Tien lowered his voice. “Do you remember my childhood friends in Bien Hoa? The ones you and Dad said went away the last time I visited?”

There was a pause. “It’s been so long, son. How can I remember? I think someone’s at the door.”

“Mom!” Tien growled. “I know you’ve been lying to me. They were all dead, weren’t they?”

His mom hesitated before answering, “Yes, they were. You were there in Bien Hoa when it happened.”

“How come I don’t remember any of it?” Tien asked, bewildered. “I should have some memory of it.”

“You were in a coma,” she sighed. “You had dengue fever. We thought we’d lose you. You were unconscious for three days, and when you woke up, your memory was hazy.”

“So what happened to them?”

“They suffocated,” his mother said, her voice soft. “The police found them with plastic bags over their heads. There was a circle drawn in chalk with strange symbols inside. They said it looked like the children had been performing a ritual. You were lucky you got sick—you would have been with them.”

“Why couldn’t I find anything about this online?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the government classified it as superstition. They don’t like spreading stories like that.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Tien hung up, his mind racing. He couldn’t stop imagining his friends’ last moments, suffocating and helpless.

Although curious about the ritual, Tien avoided investigating it further. His concern was for his friends. They had been trapped for years. Determined to free them, he sought help from his family’s church, but the priests refused, warning him that the children had practiced witchcraft and freeing them could be dangerous. Other religious figures gave him the same answer. Thy noticed her husband acting strangely—he had taken a long leave from work and was rarely home. When he was around, a grim presence seemed to follow him. She begged him to stop whatever he was doing, but Tien refused.

Eventually, Tien received a call from a priest in Bien Hoa. The priest had heard of his situation through the family church and offered to help. He advised Tien not to return to Bien Hoa alone, as his friends would likely toy with him again. They were children, after all. The priest agreed to meet him in Saigon and accompany him back.

With the priest by his side, nothing unusual happened on the drive to Bien Hoa. After asking around, they located the graves of Tien’s friends. When they reached the cemetery, Tien felt an overwhelming heaviness, as if his friends were trying to hold him there. They stood in front of the graves, and the priest began the ceremony, reading from a holy book. As Tien watched, he noticed a scar on the priest’s palm, eerily similar to his own.

When the ceremony was over, the priest assured Tien that his friends had crossed over. To be safe, he offered to accompany Tien back to Saigon. On the way home, a police officer stopped them, saying someone had reported Tien’s car for being overloaded. After a thorough search, the officer found nothing and let them go. As they drove away, Tien heard faint chanting, gradually fading into the distance.