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"Are you worried?" Mark asked, standing in the doorway of Roseanne's bedroom. He scratched the back of his head in frustration. "I mean...will you regret posting that video tomorrow? I know Yerim wanted closure or whatever but it's you who's on the line here — not her. You're the one who's going to be socially sacrificed."

A soft horn honking in the distance interrupted their silence. Roseanne and Mark were both used to the nightly sounds of traffic. Even keeping the windows closed didn't drown the noise out.

Roseanne shrugged, gripping her fluffy pillow. "Could it get any worse? I posted the first video because I thought the police were just going to ignore what happened. I even got some proof of what actually happened there and I just felt like it was an opportunity to make things right-to finally have good luck on my side," she pulled at the t-shirt she started wearing to bed two nights ago.

"You and your superstitions," Mark grumbled.

"Says the boy who never lets me open an umbrella indoors."

"One, there's no reason to have an open umbrella inside. Two, I'm a man, not a boy," he chuckled. After Roseanne smiled in response, he asked, "have you checked the video?"

"To see if people are watching it?" Roseanne shook her head. "No way. I won't be able to sleep if I read all the hate messages Tzuyu's fans are posting about me."

"Maybe you should take the video down," her friend suggested. A group of men laughing just outside their apartment floated through the window's glass. Mark reached into his sweatpants pockets. "I'll have my earplugs in tonight."

Roseanne nodded as she watched her friend disappear from her doorway. Her eyes closed as she thought of Yerim's excitement in learning she wasn't wrong about Tzuyu's death. If the ouija board was to be believed, Tzuyu had been murdered. She ignored her phone lighting up with messages and drifted to sleep.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed but a loud banging on the front door jolted Roseanne from her sleep. She froze in bed, wondering who would be making such loud noises late at night. Roseanne eased herself out of the bed as she swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. She grabbed her phone to see it was past three in the morning.

"Who is it?" She called out, her voice raspy from sleep. She took a hesitant step forward as the knocks became less demanding. "I'm not opening the door until you say who you are."

The knocking stopped but Roseanne walked forward until she was almost in front of the door. She froze as she waited for the knocking to continue. "Hello?" Her voice wavered as she leaned forward to look through the peephole.

"Rosé," a voice whispered from behind. A sizzle of fear burned through her as she straightened herself away from the peephole she was about to look through. She licked her lips, unsure of what to do. This wasn't a safe neighborhood and someone had already vandalized their door earlier.

"Mark, if you're playing a trick on me right now, you are so going to regret this," Roseanne threatened as she slowly turned around.

No one was behind her. Her phone buzzed in her hands as she glanced down to see she had a new message from an unknown number. She frowned. She had received messages from the number before she fell asleep.

"Rosé," the voice whispered again, in an urgent tone, this time coming from her bedroom.

"Mark?" Roseanne repeated. "Seriously, is this you? If you're trying to scare me, it isn't working. You're just annoying me and I hope you know payback's a bitch."

When no one responded, she made her way to her bedroom; the sounds of the cars rumbling down the streets were louder. She peered in, her eyes taking in everything as if the boogeyman was suddenly going to appear. Her breath hitched when she noticed her bedroom window was open.

"What the hell?"

Three loud bangs at her door caught her attention. This had to be some kind of trick by some idiot in the complex. Roseanne stomped over to her window and slammed it shut, clicking the lock in place. She walked over to Mark's room and turned on the light. He turned his head, still asleep. Roseanne walked over to his bed and shook him awake.

"What's happening?"

Roseanne waited until he pulled his earplugs out before asking, "was it you?"

"Was what me?"

"Or did you get someone to try and scare me?"

Mark rubbed both hands across his face. "What are you talking about?"

She grabbed one of his hands and pulled him out of bed. "Someone had been banging on and off for the past twenty minutes. Then someone was whispering my name and it sounded like they were right behind me and when I went to my room to check, my window was open and you know I always have it closed because the last thing I need is someone breaking in and stealing our furniture."

Mark's eyes widened. "Are you saying someone broke in?"

"Or tried to," Roseanne replied, looking around, her arms crossed against her chest. "Should we call the police?"

Mark ran to the small closet next to the apartment door and grabbed the baseball bat he kept in there. "Let's look around first."

They went through each room, closet, and drawer to make sure no one else was in the apartment.

"Are you sure you didn't dream all of this happening?" Mark asked. "Why would someone break in just to whisper your name?"

"I don't know, Mark! Why do crazy people do crazy things? I think we should call the police."

"And tell them what? Do you think someone broke into our apartment to try and scare you? They won't do anything, Rosie."

Her phone buzzed again and she gasped. She cleared her throat and lifted her eyes to her friend. "Please call the police, Mark."

"Rosie, I don't-"

"Just do it!" She cried.

He rolled his eyes and walked to his bedroom to get his phone. While he was away, Roseanne looked back down to finally inspect the messages she had missed earlier. Whoever it was repeated the same message several times. It was the same word which had been scratched into their apartment door.

Liar.

Liar.

Liar.

Liar.

Liar.

Liar.

Those messages didn't bother her as much as the last message she had received that caused her to shake in fear and demanded Mark to call the police.

It was a picture of her asleep in her bed, curled up in her pink t-shirt.