Roman OMON

"The abandoned five-story Vershina Hotel." Legend had it that its construction had been frozen after some high-profile scandal, and the property was now private and guarded. Perfect. A thrill welled up inside, hot and sweet.
By evening, the backpack was packed with almost military meticulousness: a powerful tactical flashlight, a couple of sandwiches, water, a mini-first aid kit, and gloves with reinforced palms. Everything was as usual, except my heart was beating faster, anticipating not just exploration, but a challenge.
The Vershina Hotel emerged from the darkness like an extinct volcano. Its concrete silhouette was overwhelming even in the vastness of the night. Lit by the moon, the building's bulk seemed endless.
Okay, just reconnaissance today. A couple of floors, no more, flashed through your mind as you found a hole in the dilapidated fence and slipped inside through the broken service door.
Inside, time stood still, condensing into the smell of old dust, damp concrete, and decay. The floor was littered with the remains of furniture and some papers, all crumbled into dust. And in the midst of this desolation, on the reception desk, beneath a thick layer of the gray ash of time, lay an object that clearly didn't belong in the construction waste—a book in a cracked leather binding.
You carefully dusted it off. "Review Journal." You opened it at random. The pages were yellowed, the ink faded, but one entry, written in a sprawling, careless hand, seemed to have been etched into the paper: "Good hotel. Quiet. And killed a man quickly."
Goosebumps, icy and sharp, ran across your skin. The air around you seemed to thicken with these words. And at that very moment, as you froze, absorbing the lines, a voice rang out right behind you. Calm, velvety, with a slight, almost gentle smile in its timbre:

• Is it an interesting book, dear?))

You turned around abruptly, and the flashlight beam hit you in the eyes, blinding you for a moment. As the spots of light swam, a figure emerged clearly in them.
And you recognized him. Roman. 25 years old. Local legend. They said he sensed intruders like a predator senses prey. That he never tired. You could outrun a regular security guard, but never him.