Chapter 11: An Entity at My Passenger Seat?

Silay walked down the hospital corridor, humming a light tune under his breath as he checked his tablet and adjusted the files tucked under one arm. It was a quiet morning, just the way he liked it. His steps felt lighter today. Maybe it was the change of pace, or maybe it was because his thoughts kept returning to the forest. 

To that strange yet oddly comforting village.

He hadn’t really explored much of it yesterday, everything happened too fast, they even forgot to eat dinner. But maybe next time… he’d stay a little longer. Maybe walk past those glowing capiz lanterns or trace the path of the falling Salingbobog petals.

Maybe… if Suliyao invites me again.

The thought made him smile faintly, though it seems like the doctor didn’t notice it.

He turned a corner, heading to assist with a minor procedure when a familiar figure paused beside him. It was Li, already changed and ready for early morning surgery. The man leaned ever so slightly closer, eyes squinting at something that caught the light.

“What’s that?” Li asked, tone flat but curious. “You don’t wear things.”

Silay blinked and looked down. Right. Around his neck hung a simple necklace, almost easy to miss if it weren’t for the tiny crystalized salingbobog flower resting just under his collarbone. He had forgotten to take it off.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “a souvenir…?”

Li didn’t look amused.

“That might contaminate the field,” he said calmly, keeping his hands to himself in a sterile stance. “Remove it. Jewelry’s not allowed past this hall.”

Silay gave a sheepish nod and unclasped the necklace, slipping it into his coat pocket without complaint. “Noted. Good luck on your operation.”

Li gave a slight incline of the head before walking past him, already focused on the next task.

Silay, left in the quiet hallway.

Since Lirika’s discharge, the hospital has returned to its usual rhythm. He had not encountered any more strange cases like that. No spirit-induced comas, no sudden brainwaves reacting to the unknown. Just routine.

Silay found this ‘usual’ oddly incomplete.

His days were filled with familiar faces and scheduled sessions. One of his morning patients was a young woman recovering from a spinal cord injury after a vehicular accident. He guided her through assisted gait training, adjusting the parallel bars and supporting her posture as she took trembling steps with a brace. Her arms shook, but her eyes were determined.

Another was an elderly ex-boxer who had recently suffered a mild stroke. They worked together on coordination and grip strength exercises, Silay softly reminding him which color ball to squeeze or which peg to aim for. The man joked too much and grumbled louder, but he followed every instruction like muscle memory.

And in the afternoon, he saw a teenager with cerebral palsy who was due for botox injections to manage spasticity. Silay took the time to explain everything, drawing little faces on the syringe caps to ease the boy’s tension before starting the delicate procedure.

Everything followed its place on the calendar. Predictable. Linear. Uncomplicated.

Still, there were quiet moments in between, when Silay would glance at his coat pocket and touch the flower necklace inside, just to make sure it was still there.

Night had quietly settled over the hospital. The hallways, once buzzing with hurried steps and hushed conversations, now stretched long and dim, like tunnels sinking into silence. Silay’s steps echoed as he made his way to the last patient for the day, then he could finally clock out, head home, and maybe… check if Suliyao figured out how to use the stove.

He glanced at his phone.

Still no messages. No calls. Not even a ping.

Silay sighed and pocketed the device. “I’ll call after this one,” he muttered to himself, twisting the doorknob to the VIP room.

The lights were dimmed as expected however something felt off. The patient’s bed was empty, blankets slightly pushed to the side.

“Oh, where did she go? Comfort room?”

He stepped inside, keeping his step light. The soft soles of his shoes thudded dully on the polished floor as he approached the door to the ensuite bathroom.

“Miss? Are you in there?”

No answer.

He knocked, gentler this time. “Miss?”

Still nothing.

The air was too still. Too thick. A sterile quiet, like someone had vacuumed the life out of the room. He turned slowly, something in his chest whispering that he shouldn’t. The lights above flickered once, like a slow blink.

Then came the sound. A soft rustle. But it didn’t come from the bathroom.

It came from the walls.

His eyes darted to the corners, the ceiling, the space beneath the bed. But the room looked untouched. Normal.

Too normal.

He took a step back. The silence had changed. It became layered, as though something beneath it was breathing in tandem with him. The air buzzed with pressure, a low droning hum he could feel in his teeth, not hear.

His hand instinctively reached for his white coat pocket. He hesitated.

Don’t wear those glasses inside the hospital.

Suliyao’s voice, firm and quiet in his memory. But right now, it felt more like a warning than a suggestion.

Silay’s fingers curled around the glasses.

And paused.

The hairs on his neck rose. Not from a gust of air but from the sensation of being watched. From inside the room.

And yet… he was alone. Wasn’t he?

No footsteps. No voice. Just the slow, suffocating weight of being observed.

He swallowed hard, glasses still in hand.

“…Where could she be?” he whispered.

The ceiling light above him flickered again.

And in the brief blink of darkness, it sounded like someone exhaled right by his ear.

“Silay?”

The man flinched so hard it was as if his entire body froze mid-breath. The dimmed lights above buzzed softly, then flickered back to full brightness as the voice pulled him back to reality.

Itel stood at the doorway, a frown on her face, her blazer slung over one arm.

“I was wondering why you entered an empty room. I thought you were just going to check something out, but you were taking too long.” Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed his wrist and gently tugged. “Stop staring like that, you’re scaring me.”

Silay let himself be pulled, still gripping the glasses in his other hand. He only noticed Itel was out of her uniform when they stepped into the hallway, the woman was likely on her way out when she spotted him taking a wrong turn.

They exited the room. Silay gave one last glance inside.

His neck prickled again.

Like a cold, dry mouth had just pressed against the skin there and left no warmth behind. Just a mark.

“Ack,” he shivered slightly.

“You okay?” Itel asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “This corridor has no patients in it. Did you accidentally take a wrong turn?”

Silay blinked. Then blinked again.

“…Yeah,” he said finally, a little disoriented. “Maybe I did.”

But in the back of his mind, something crawled, unsettled and slow.

The last patient he was supposed to see…

He had a name and a room number, didn’t he?

Why did his feet bring him there instead?

And why did it feel like something was waiting for him to arrive? As if… he was being played with.

He slipped the glasses back into his pocket, quietly, without a word.

Itel bid her farewell once they reached the hospital exit, where the overhead lights were brightest and a few night shift nurses already settled at the front desk.

“Get home safe,” she reminded, tossing a wave before leaving.

Silay smiled in return and turned toward the staff area. He had to retrieve his satchel and change into casual clothes, ones Suliyao had personally tailored for him. The thought made him feel warm again, like the morning hadn't worn off just yet.

As he changed, he winced slightly and rubbed at the side of his neck.

Must be the long hours. 

He reached into the white coat, retrieving the flower necklace he’d removed earlier and gently placing it back around his neck. The petals brushed lightly against his skin, oddly cool. His glasses were then hooked onto his collar as usual, like a habit that had started becoming second nature.

On his way to the exit, he slowed as he noticed someone by the automatic doors.

“…Li?”

He called over with a small laugh, “Wow, I thought you hate overtime?”

The figure turned to him, Li’s face expressionless, not replying. Well, Silay was used to that.

Silay’s voice dropped. “You okay?”

But the man didn’t say anything. Just… stood there.

Still, Silay offered a smile and a small wave, then casually walked forward. “Alright, see you next shift.”

From the front desk, the nurses stared.

One nudged the other, whispering low. “Who’s he talking to…?”

Their eyes trailed behind him, toward the glass doors.

There was no one there.

Just the faint reflection of Dr. Manawari smiling to the empty air beside him.

And walking away as if someone was there with him.

The temperature in the lobby seemed to drop a little.

“…We’re really working the night shift after that?” one of them mumbled, hugging her clipboard close.

Another nurse swallowed hard. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Haha, indeed, it’s oddly quiet tod—” Before the young nurse could continue, her seniors immediately zipped her mouth for her. 

* * *

At the hospital parking lot, Silay fished for his keys as he approached his car, stretching his neck a little. 

Just as he reached for the door handle, he froze. There was a reflection on the window, someone was behind him. 

He turned.

Li.

The sudden closeness of that stone-cold expression made Silay nervous.

“Wha—Li?” he half-laughed, trying to shake off the chill running down his arms. “What are you doing? You have your own car.”

Li’s eyes bore into his, unmoving.

“Give me a ride,” he said.

It should’ve sounded casual. A simple request. But there was something wrong in his voice. Something that scraped too low and felt rehearsed.

Silay swallowed and sighed. “You’re acting like… Fine.” He clicked the remote, unlocking the car.

They entered.

The sound of seatbelts unspooling felt louder than it should’ve in the quiet lot.

Silay settled into the driver’s seat, glanced at his phone, and called Suliyao. It rang once. Twice. No answer.

He sighed, thumb hovering for a last try. “Your seatbelt, put it on,” he told Li without looking.

There was no reply.

Silay blinked, turned slightly, only to be met with an unplaceable motion.

The passenger seat was empty.

Then—

Weight.

Heavy and sudden.

Li was no longer beside him. He was straddling Silay’s lap, close enough that Silay could see every detail of his unnaturally dark pupils.

“What are you doing?! I-I’m not interested in something like this! Get off!”

His phone continued to ring, oddly loud, strangely out of place in the chaos.

Li didn’t speak.

His hands, still cold and steady, moved to Silay’s neck, fingers pressing too firmly.

“Stop—” Silay gasped, nails digging into the man’s arms, trying to push him back but…

He couldn’t move him.

The strength felt all wrong. Like Li’s bones were made of stone. Like something had settled into him, wearing his shape.

Silay clawed at his wrist, choked as his head pressed back hard into the seat. The car creaked softly from the shift of weight.

A sharp pressure throbbed behind his eyes.

His phone, forgotten at the holder, blinked with a new notification.

He couldn’t see what it said. Everything was blurry.

And the weight on him wasn’t shifting.

His legs were going numb.

The ringing stopped. Silay didn't know whether Suliyao answered or not.

“Help…” he croaked, “please…”

The silence that followed felt unnatural. Almost... expectant.

But the thing on top of him didn’t move.

It wasn't even breathing.

It just stared.

Author’s Note:

Scary…