Doleia slowly lifted her gaze and looked at herself in the mirror, unable to help but marvel at how perfectly her makeup matched her performance gown today. Her makeup artist, Linda, sets her final touches, and gazed at her work with satisfaction.
Linda: "Miss, you look absolutely stunning today. Honestly, I've done makeup for so many top stars, and not many can compare to your beauty!"
Doleia raised her fair hand and gently covered her rosy lips, smiling shyly as she joked, "Linda, you praise me every time, yet I still can't help but feel so happy every time you say it."
-----
Knock, knock, knock.
"Doleia, may I come in?"
"Come in!" she replied.
A tall, mature-looking man stepped into the room. His facial features bore some resemblance to Doleia's, though her beauty clearly took more after her mother.
He looked at his beautiful daughter and said with a proud smile, "Wow… look at my precious girl. You've really grown up. If your mother were here today, she'd be so proud of you." He let out a quiet sigh—so soft that even Doleia didn't catch it.
Her mother had passed away when she was 15. That day, the chauffeur, exhausted from caring for his sick son, had nodded off at the wheel. The car crashed through the guardrail and plunged off a bridge into the river below.
Doleia lowered her eyes, taking a moment to collect herself from the memories of her mom. Then she turned to her father and comforted him gently, "It's okay, Dad. I believe Mom can see me from heaven—and she will be proud of me too."
Her father nodded, smiling again. It wasn't a day for sadness.
"Oh, right—almost forgot," he added, suddenly remembering. "Your grandpa sent you a gift today, and decided to have me to give it to you before the performance as an encouragement."
Doleia's eyes lit up. "Really? What is it?"
With a mysterious smile, her father reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled something out.
"He said, now that you're grown, you should have more freedom and of course, go anywhere you want… psst—without the driver and bodyguards!"
At that, Doleia instantly guessed what the gift was, already imagining carefree days cruising around with her best friends—shopping, laughing, singing in the car. She beamed with excitement.
Her father added sternly, "But! If you ever run into trouble, you call me right away, got it? Don't forget, your dad still has a little authority in this city."
Doleia smiled sweetly. "Got it, Dad. Thank you! I'll thank Grandpa properly after the performance too."
She glanced at the clock on the table.
"Oh, Dad, you should head back to your seat. I'm probably up next!"
Her father gave her a loving nod and said: "Good luck on your piano performance, sweetie."
He turned around and is about to leave, when Doleia rushed over and wrapped her arms around him.
"Love you, Dad."
He paused for a moment—surprised—then turned around to hug back and embraced the daughter he'd give his life to protect.
-----
Doleia slipped into the pair of haute couture heels specially tailored for tonight. As she gently lifted the hem of her gown, she stood up, ready to head backstage and await her cue.
Just as the host called her name and the audience erupted into applause, her eyelid twitched sharply, her heartbeat quickened, palms turned clammy, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. A strange wave of unease rose in her chest.
She frowned slightly but quickly shook her head, brushing off the feeling as nothing more than pre-performance nerves.
The concert hall was neither too large nor too small—its size was just right. Soft lighting bathed the space in a gentle glow. Standing backstage, Doleia peeked through a slit in the curtain, her gaze sweeping over the audience. The seats were filled with family, relatives, and close friends.
She spotted her grandfather—the man who had spent months planning this very performance—sitting proudly in the front row, eyes full of warmth as he looked toward the stage. Beside him was her father, the face she had relied on all her life, beaming with pride. Her friends waved at her from their seats, their familiar faces glowing with love and encouragement.
A sense of calm settled over her, washing away the earlier unease.
"You can do this, Doleia. You've been playing the piano since you even remembered." She said to herself, trying to boost her confidence.
Doleia stepped onto the stage, standing before the gleaming white grand piano. She bowed deeply to the audience, her voice soft and gracious as she thanked each guest for attending.
Her fingers touched the keys, and music flowed gently into the air. The melody wove through the hall, captivating the crowd—until a sudden, piercing scream shattered the serenity from the corridor outside.
"Help!——"
Frantic footsteps echoed through the corridor—fast, disjointed, full of panic.
This wasn't part of the performance.
It was the sound of people running… fleeing from something.
Doleia's fingers froze on the keys, the music halting abruptly. Murmurs rippled through the hall as heads turned toward the source of the noise.
Then—bang!
The doors to the concert hall burst open.
A woman stumbled inside, her face twisted in terror. Slamming her body against the doors, she screamed, "Block the doors! Call security! Hurry—they're coming!"
For a heartbeat, everyone just stared, stunned. A few finally rushed to help, but the hall's design worked against them—the audience had to climb up several tiers to reach the entrance door, and by the time they reached the doors, it was too late.
There was no way a single woman could hold back what came next.
And then they saw them—
Figures in shredded clothing, their flesh torn and bloodied, some missing limbs but still crawling forward, relentless.
Not people.
Monsters.
They lunged at the crowd like rabid beasts, grabbing the nearest victims and tearing into them without hesitation.
Screams erupted. Panic spread. The concert hall descended into chaos.
Onstage, Doleia stood frozen. Her whole life had been one of comfort and privilege—she had never witnessed horror like this.
Her father knew something was off at this point. He screamed to Doleia, "Run Doleia, Run! Don't look back no matter wh——"
He was knocked down by someone running, and got caught by one of the figures near him before he could even finish his sentence.
Her mind screamed for her to move and save her dad, but her feet wouldn't budge. She could only watch as the people she loved—her family, her friends—were dragged down before her eyes.
She saw him lying in a pool of blood—only to witness him miraculously rise again. He dragged one crippled leg behind him, paused for a moment, and then began limping step by step in her direction.
Joy surged through her heart. She lifted her skirt and rushed down the stage, wanting to catch him before he fell again.
But then—he slowly raised his head, and for the first time, she saw his face clearly. Her body froze.
The right side of her father's face had been torn to shreds, the flesh mangled and bleeding. His once-bright eyes were now dull, grey orbs with no pupils.
Her eyes widened as she gasped, a sharp ringing echoing in her ears. She stumbled back in horror, her heel catching on the hem of her gown. With a sharp twist of her ankle, she fell hard onto the floor.
"Ahhh!"
The pain was searing. The weight of her gown and heels made it nearly impossible to get up quickly.
She struggled to rise, panic taking over—but it was too late.
All she could see was her father's mouth, wide open, and his mangled face coming closer and closer. Her breath caught in her throat. Tears welled up and spilled over as she squeezed her eyes shut in despair.
Then——silence.
At some point, the world had gone quiet. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a familiar bedroom.
Still trembling, her breath shallow and uneven. Her mind was a whirlpool of terror and confusion.
"Was it just a dream?"
She blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the vivid images that still haunted her—her father's bloodied face, the screams, the panic, the sharp fall.
It felt too real.
Slowly, she moved her leg to help herself up—and winced.
A sharp pain shot through her ankle.
Her hand flew down to clutch it, and her heart dropped. The pain was real. She stared at the swelling beneath her fingers.
"No… it couldn't be…"
With trembling hands, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, almost afraid to look.
The date on the screen made her blood run cold—three months ago.
She wasn't dreaming, she had really came back!