When I was a sophomore in college, my grandfather passed away.

It all started with a call from my mom. The phone rang right during my lunch break after classes, and when I answered, she told me through her tears, "Grandpa died."

My grandfather had suffered from dementia for about ten years, eventually being classified as Care Level 4, and had been living in a nursing home for the past four years. That morning, news of his passing reached my parents' house.

He was my maternal grandfather, but my dad was very close to him too. Upon hearing the news, my dad immediately left work early to handle all the arrangements. Mom called me only after she had finally calmed down.

I was attending a university in another prefecture, but I could get back home in about four hours by train, so I immediately packed my bags.

I then met up with my mother near the funeral home where my grandfather's body was being kept, and we headed straight inside together.

"Hey, son. How've you been?" "Yeah, alright I guess. More importantly, how's Grandpa?"

Inside one of the rooms—a lobby deeper in the building that felt surprisingly livable, like a hotel—the room was filled with the smell of incense. My dad, dressed in a suit, was talking with a staff member. When he turned and saw me walk in, his expression relaxed with relief.

After bowing lightly to the staff member, I followed my dad as he stood up and led me into an adjoining back room, where I found my grandfather lying on a bed.

"Father, our boy came to see you."

Seeing my grandfather lying there with his eyes closed so peacefully, as if he were merely sleeping, it strangely didn't feel real. But watching my father bow his head in prayer beside him, a thought echoed inside my head: He really is gone.

After spending a few moments reuniting with my grandfather and updating him on how I'd been, I sat down with my parents to discuss the schedule and scale of the funeral.

But there was so much to figure out—itemized cost breakdowns, member lists for attendees, deciding between a private family service or a general funeral, minor details regarding hall sizes, selecting a priest—that my mind honestly started to feel overwhelmed.

"What would you like to do about overnight accommodations?"

Right then, the staff member brought up the time set aside to honor his memory and say a final goodbye while keeping watch over him for the night.

First thing tomorrow morning, my grandfather would be transferred from the funeral home for embalming.

Of course, he would be brought back by the evening, but since the funeral would begin the next day, tonight and tomorrow night were the only two nights we would have left to spend with him.

My father had taken paid leave for the day of the funeral, but since my grandfather passed away right during a busy stretch at work, Dad couldn't take tomorrow off.

Mom was completely drained, both emotionally from losing her father and physically from rushing around handling paperwork and packing his things at the nursing home.

Compared to them, I was just a carefree college student.

"How about I stay overnight?"

So I volunteered to stay in the guest room—a Western-style room at the funeral home—to act as the point of contact.

Surprisingly, both of my parents were deeply grateful. When my dad told me, "That's a huge help," I felt a bit embarrassed, but genuinely glad I could help.

Once everything was settled, my parents returned home for the evening, and the staff member left the room, leaving just me and my grandfather.

It had been two full years since I left for university out of state. Since I hadn't come back home even once, this was our first meeting in two years, and I couldn't help but notice how thin and frail he'd grown.

The moment I was alone, a wave of emotion washed over me, making my eyes well up.

They were faded memories now, but when I was little, my grandfather used to play with me all the time.

I joined my hands in prayer before him once more, then went to lie down in the tatami room where the TV was set up.

Although this suite was designed to hold the deceased, it was also equipped with amenities so family members could watch over their loved one during their final journey—a full suite complete with a bedroom, bath, toilet, and kitchen. It was thoughtfully designed so that people traveling from far away like me wouldn't have any trouble.

In the corner of the large L-shaped living room sat the bed where my grandfather lay resting. Leaving the sliding screen open, I relaxed in the bedroom-cum-tatami space, watching TV to pass the time until tomorrow.

Though every now and then, I had to touch base with my parents, check on tomorrow's schedule, and run down to the front office like a middleman to relay messages to the staff.

By the time those small interactions were done, it was already past nine at night, so I walked through the living room toward the bathroom.

I glanced over at my grandfather, but there was only his still body lying on its back under the white cloth. I didn't think much of it and went into the bathroom.

The bathroom interior looked just like one at home, but it was fully accessible without any small steps or ridges, making it very comfortable. Besides, the building itself seemed quite new, equipped with modern fixtures, making it hard to find anything to complain about. If I get used to a luxury place like this, I won't be able to go back to my run-down apartment, I thought sardonically as I washed my hair—when suddenly, I heard a strange sound.

Thump.

I'm the type of person who turns off the shower to save water unless I'm actively rinsing, so I froze when I heard a noise other than the squelching sound of lathering shampoo.

The TV was still on, but what I just heard was clearly a different sound.

Did one of the staff members come inside? If so, terrible timing.

I quickly turned on the faucet to rinse off the foam, the warm water blasting away the suds amidst a cloud of steam.

Thud.

Then I heard another sound, this time much closer.

Maybe a staff member was looking for me and opened the door to the changing room. Even if it were staff, opening the changing room door felt like an invasion of privacy, which annoyed me a bit, but finishing my bath was my top priority.

I rinsed off the remaining soap, turned off the water, and squeezed the moisture from my hair.

Phew, much better.

Turning back toward the frosted glass door, I saw a pale, flesh-colored human silhouette standing right on the other side, and—

"Whoa?!"

I let out a short scream and nearly slipped and fell.

Stepping right up to the bathroom door was completely out of line. Furious, yet trying to suppress my pounding heart, I yelled through the door.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

When I yelled in a harsh tone, the shadow pressed its face flat against the frosted glass, its expression squished so hard into the stretched skin that its flattened features were vividly visible.

Gross.

The childishness of the prank actually creeped me out even more.

Unable to help myself, I poked at the area where the nose was pressed against the glass, and the figure pulled away and vanished.

I shoved the door open immediately, wrapped a nearby bath towel around my waist, and burst out of the changing room into the living room to catch the staff member.

"...Wait, what?"

But even though I had chased after the fleeing intruder immediately, there was no sign of anyone anywhere in the spacious living room that stretched out toward the entryway. What's more, there was no sign that the front door had been opened at all.

Just in case, I checked places where a person might hide, like the kitchen or the bedroom closet, but naturally, nobody was there.

Puzzled, I was about to head back to put my clothes on when, for some reason, I walked over to where my grandfather was resting at the edge of the living room.

Looking down at the incense that had been lit earlier, I noticed the thin plume of smoke swaying gently in the air, drifting off toward the bedroom where I had been relaxing.

As I stared intently toward the bedroom, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the cloth covering my grandfather twitch slightly.

I spun back toward him immediately and stared at his face through the cloth when my smartphone began ringing in the bedroom.

It gave me quite a jolt, but when I answered, it was my mom calling to say she'd arrive around 7:00 a.m. tomorrow, so I took the opportunity to ask her to bring me breakfast.

It was a bizarre occurrence, but by the time the call ended—maybe because I'm just easygoing by nature—I stopped worrying about it, finished getting dressed, and ate the convenience store bento my mom had bought me earlier.

After that, I spent the time eating my meal while watching TV, playing games on my phone, and messaging my friends—aside from my grandfather's passing and the luxurious suite, it felt pretty much like enjoying a normal night living on my own.

Even spending the night alone with a corpse, which sounded terrifying on paper, didn't bother me or fill me with dread since he was family.

I spent the rest of the night lounging around in total peace of mind.

The anomaly occurred shortly after I went to sleep, around 2:00 in the morning. I woke up in the dark room, with only the faint hum of the air conditioner echoing, feeling a sharp, piercing gaze from somewhere.

The nightlight on the light switch and the red indicator on the smoke detector bled into the faint streetlight filtering through the window, but the unlit room was still dark.

I fearfully turned my head toward the living room, and I could just make out a section of my grandfather's bed.

"...!"

I tried to sit up, but I realized I couldn't move my body. Suddenly, a stench of burning incense brushed past my nose, a strange chill shot down my spine, and an unmistakable sense of dread washed over me.

Flutter, flutter.

As I lay there looking toward the bed, I saw something floating above it—right above my grandfather's head.

Squinting my eyes to look closer, I realized it was the white cloth.

Imagine placing a tissue over someone's face while they breathe; with every exhale, the tissue lifts and flutters from the force of their breath.

That was exactly what was happening right above my grandfather sleeping in front of me.

As my throat went dry and I gasped at my chest-bursting heartbeat, the bed began to rattle violently. I tried desperately to comprehend what was happening, but no sooner had the rattling stopped than my grandfather, who had been lying flat on his back, suddenly sat straight up.

My eyes widened, and I stared at the scene before me in utter shock.

Half bathed in the shadows cast by the streetlight, his face was completely shrouded in darkness. Yet the figure that had clearly risen from the bed leaned forward with awkward, jerky movements, then collapsed onto its hands and knees, sliding right off the bed onto the floor.

Slither, slither, slither...

The sound of clothes rubbing against the floor mixed with the creaking of the bed as he crawled across the ground.

Watching the clumsy, low crawl, I realized it was slithering straight toward the bedroom where I lay, and I strained with all my might to move my body.

But the sleep paralysis wouldn't break. Shaking violently, all I could do was watch as the figure relentlessly dragged itself toward me.

No! Why is Grandpa doing this?!

Had I done something terrible to him? Up until high school graduation, I had visited him several times a month, but had I angered him by not visiting for nearly two years after starting college? Was he that furious with me for never coming to see him?

As I lay paralyzed, trapped in a swirl of terror and remorse, a low groaning sound began to emerge from the figure.

"...N... o..."

I couldn't make it out clearly. The dark shape of my grandfather was inching closer and closer to the bedroom.

"...don't... want..."

The voice was horribly raspy for my grandfather, but I could tell it was directed at me.

Slither, slither...

The dark shape finally crossed the threshold between the living room and the bedroom, creeping another step closer.

"...I don't... want to..."

Stop.

A cold, dry sensation suddenly gripped my bare ankle, and my breath hitched in panic.

"...!!"

Then, touch by touch, gripping and pulling as if hauling in a rope, it steadily advanced up my body.

Please, Grandpa, spare me!

I repeatedly recited prayers in my mind, but the paralysis didn't break, and my voice wouldn't come out. I was on the verge of giving up.

But right at that moment—

"I don't want to die..."

Spoken in a feeble yet crystal-clear voice, those words were undeniably heavy with lingering regret.

Ah... Grandpa is terrified of dying alone. Passing away in a facility without any family by his side... he must have been so lonely.

Suddenly, the terror inside me softened, and I felt the tension drain from my body, realizing I could move again.

I sat up, hesitantly reached out for the arms clinging to my body as they tried to drag themselves up, and took them firmly in my hands.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa. I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you passed. I'm sorry I didn't come visit for so long. You must've been so lonely."

As I summoned the courage to speak in a trembling voice, the grip on my body seemed to loosen. Instead, keeping its face buried near my hip, the figure wrapped its arms around my waist and held me.

He really was lonely.

I hugged him back, repeating, "I'm sorry, Grandpa," over and over, gently stroking his back like comforting a baby until he settled down.

I can't believe something like this is happening, I thought, looking at his surprisingly small back—when my eyes suddenly drifted toward the back of the room, to the living room where the bed stood.

There, dimly visible, sat someone on the bed, upright and facing toward me.

Though it was too dark to see the face, a familiar silhouette was beckoning to me as if desperately trying to convey something.

As I stared in confusion,

Ring, ring, ring!

The landline telephone in the room suddenly blared violently.

My shoulders jumped in surprise, but the cordless receiver was sitting on a shelf right in the bedroom within arm's reach, so I answered instinctively.

"Hello?"

"Ah, sir? I am so sorry to bother you at this late hour. You requested a call back earlier, so I am calling you back... Is everything alright?"

The voice on the line belonged to the funeral home staff member who had been at the meeting. However, I couldn't make any sense of what he was saying through the receiver, so I blurted back:

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"…Huh? Oh, um… someone called from your room just a moment ago and requested that I call you back immediately..."

Even hearing his explanation again, I couldn't understand it at all, and I just tilted my head in silent confusion.

"Wait... but the voice... Pardon me for asking, but are you alone right now?"

The staff member mumbled slightly to himself before asking if I was alone. What a bizarre thing to ask. He was there in person, so he knew full well I was staying here by myself tonight.

"Yeah, I'm alone... Oh."

Halfway through answering normally, my eyes dropped.

That's right, I'm hugging my grandfather's ghost right now. Because I was comforting my grandfather who had died alone, the unusual nature of the experience had completely washed away my fear.

Proof of that was how quiet he had become now that he was comforted.

At that exact moment, I remembered the figure sitting on the bed and glanced over without thinking.

Right then, the headlights of a passing car outside flashed through the window, illuminating the face of the figure on the bed.

"Huh... Grandpa?"

Yes—the person sitting on the bed beckoning to me was my deceased grandfather.

It was only for a split second, but my grandfather had a look of intense urgency on his face, frantically motioning for me to come to him.

Wait, wait, wait. If Grandpa is sitting on the bed... then who the hell am I holding right now?!

A sudden chill washed over me as if the temperature dropped a degree or two, and my heart began hammering violently in tandem. I could feel adrenaline flooding my system at a terrifying speed.

Over the phone, the staff member's voice echoed persistently: "Sir? Sir? Did something happen?!"

Before I even realized it, my stiffened hands grabbed the arms wrapped around me to pry them off, but they didn't budge—held fast by an unnatural, monstrous strength.

Steeling my resolve, I forced out the words:

"...Who the hell are you?"

I bit my lip and held my breath as the head buried against my body slowly began to lift away.

Meaning, as it pulled back, its face was gradually revealed.

Hair I didn't recognize. Skin tone I didn't recognize. Eyebrows I didn't recognize. Eyes I didn't recognize. Nose I didn't recognize.

And as those unfamiliar lips twisted into a hideous contortion, IT spoke:

"I DON'T WANT TO DIEEEEEEE!"

The moment IT latched onto me, my reflex kicked in—

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH?!"

I screamed so hard I thought my heart would explode out of my chest.

From the dropped receiver, I vaguely heard the panicked voice of the staff member—"Sir?! Sir, can you hear me?!"—but my vision instantly went pitch black, and I lost consciousness.

When I next opened my eyes, I was in the bedroom bathed in bright morning sunlight, hearing the voices of my parents and the staff member talking in the living room.

Feeling terrible, as if I'd just woken from a horrific nightmare, I sat up. I felt a strange stiffness—a heavy weight on my shoulders—and rotated them a few times to loosen the tension.

Seeing me sit up, my mom noticed right away, and my dad let out a sigh of relief. "You're awake?"

"Did you sleepwalk in the middle of the night? They said you were having a terrible nightmare."

"Huh?"

Hearing my mom's confusing words, I tried to kick my groggy brain into gear.

"Oh..."

And then, the strange events of last night rushed back to me, sending a shiver down my spine. Right—something had crawled over from my grandfather's bed and grabbed me, and I had held it, thinking it was my grandfather.

Remembering that much made everything right up until I lost consciousness flash before my eyes like a movie.

That's right. The shadow I thought was my grandfather was someone else entirely, and the figure sitting on the bed beckoning to me was the real Grandpa.

If so, then who on earth was the person I had been holding and comforting so tenderly? I tried desperately to recall, but I couldn't bring up the face I saw at the very end.

Right then, my eyes met the staff member's, who was looking at me with a somber expression, before he awkwardly averted his gaze.

My brain was still foggy, slowing down my thoughts. I got up to wash my face and eat breakfast, then sat back in the bedroom watching TV while listening to the final funeral discussion from a distance.

Once the final arrangements were settled, my grandfather was transported from the funeral home early in the morning for embalming, and our family saw him off.

As an aside, I decided to take a nap at my parents' house until evening when the embalming would be finished, but I couldn't fall asleep. The terrifying experience from last night was still hanging over me. For some reason, though, I couldn't bring myself to bring it up to my parents.

Besides, the staff member had only reported to my parents that I was "having a nightmare," and I didn't press the matter either.

Truth be told, my memories were still jumbled and I hadn't sorted out my feelings, so I didn't have the courage to ask the staff member about last night yet.

To make a long story short, my grandfather safely returned to the funeral home after embalming, and my parents stayed overnight that evening. When I asked them the next morning if anything unusual happened, they said nothing at all occurred and that they relaxed as if staying at a hotel.

On the day of the funeral, the service was held with only close relatives present. After quietly saying our final goodbyes to my grandfather in a medium-sized hall, we all moved to the crematorium where the cremation took place.

A surreal feeling came over me as I realized my grandfather, who had a physical body just moments ago, was now reduced to a few bones inside an urn.

When a human dies, they turn into an urn of ashes weighing who knows how few grams.

Feeling the profound impermanence of human life, my eyes welled up with tears once again.

Returning to the funeral home after all the schedule was completed, return gifts were handed out to the attendees, and relatives began heading home one by one.

After three days that felt both long and brief came to an end, our family gathered my grandfather's portrait and ashes and prepared to go home.

When my parents went to the restroom, I found myself alone with the staff member, so I brought up what happened two nights ago.

"Um, about two nights ago... I don't remember much of it... But I called you on the phone, right?"

Unsure whether the whole thing was a dream or reality, I asked with my head bowed, and the staff member's face went rigid as he opened his mouth heavily.

"...You indeed called me, sir. However... well..."

Frustrated by his hesitation, I pressed him further.

"I think I saw a ghost, but I don't remember clearly. Do you know anything about it?"

Seeing the serious look in my eyes, the staff member resigned himself, took a few deep breaths, and answered.

"To tell you the truth..."

According to the staff member, this is what happened: That night, while he was working in the office, a phone call came in. A call at this hour? he thought, but realizing I was staying overnight, he thought something might be wrong and immediately picked up.

"Yes, funeral office speaking."

As he listened, he heard a quiet, crackling noise like breathing against the receiver, followed by a voice coming from far away.

A raspy male voice repeated, "...Call... me..." about three times before the line abruptly went dead.

Worried that I might be sleepwalking or that something bad had happened, he decided to call back. When I answered in a perfectly normal voice, he asked what I needed, but something felt off.

Then, I suddenly let out a scream and stopped responding, so he realized something was definitely wrong and rushed to the room.

Arriving at the suite, there was no answer when he knocked on the door, so he unlocked it with a master key. Saying, "Excuse me!" as a formality, he stepped inside—only to freeze in shock as he saw something glide silently across the dark living room.

He immediately hit the light switch by the entrance, flooding the room with light.

But the shadow that had just crossed the room was nowhere to be seen.

"...Sir? ...Excuse me."

He cautiously walked into the room, and after seeing I wasn't in the living room, he peered into the bedroom.

There he found me, collapsed on the floor without a blanket, clutching the phone receiver. Because I was lying there like a corpse, he panicked, thinking I might have tripped and hit my head.

"A-Are you alright?! Hang in there..."

But the moment he tried to rush to my side, an extraordinary chill ran down his spine, causing him to freeze.

The windows were closed and the air conditioner wasn't blowing air. Yet he felt a lukewarm breeze, like breath, brushing against the back of his neck.

Gulping down his saliva, he slowly turned around and saw the white cloth flutter down to the floor like a dropped handkerchief.

The staff member looked from the cloth to the bed, and from the bed to my grandfather's body, unable to comprehend how the cloth could have fallen off.

Still, driven by professional instinct even at a time like this, he knelt down to pick up the cloth to cover my grandfather's exposed face.

Right as he dropped to one knee—

"I DON'T WANT TO DIEEEEE"

A muffled, watery voice whispered right into his ear.

He said he collapsed on the floor in a state of shock for a while after that, but once he came to his senses, he properly covered my grandfather's face, dragged me back onto the futon, and pulled a blanket over me.

Having recounted all this with a pale face, the staff member bowed his head deeply in apology.

"...Normally, this is not something we would ever reveal to a client's family."

But knowing I had likely gone through the exact same terrifying experience that night, I didn't feel like blaming him and gently told him, "Please don't worry about it," encouraging him to lift his head.

Still, I had two lingering questions I couldn't leave unasked.

"By the way... did you come by the room around 9:00 p.m. that night?"

"...No. We were preparing for the funeral that evening, so... until the phone call in the middle of the night, I don't believe any employee visited your room."

Finding no match in his memory, the staff member shook his head thoughtfully.

I asked my second question right after.

"...Would it be alright if I asked what kind of person stayed in that room before my grandfather?"

The staff member's face darkened slightly. Holding back whatever was stuck in his throat, he lowered his voice even further and spoke.

"...The guest who utilized that room right before your grandfather died by hanging."

Just as the staff member bowed his head, my parents returned, so to avoid suspicion, I bowed to him and said, "Thank you for everything."

With that, I got into the car with my grandfather's portrait and ashes, and we left the funeral home behind.

That was the strange experience I had at the funeral home. Whether it was a hallucination brought on by grief over my grandfather's death or just a dream, I don't know.

But if the staff member's story was true, I must have seen something that night and passed out. And that figure I saw through the frosted glass while taking a bath—that, at least, was unmistakably real.

Maybe it was a prank played by the lingering regret of the person who hanged themselves before my grandfather.

If so, then the person who called the front office in the middle of the night might have been my grandfather. As I left the funeral home, I realized he was probably trying to say, "That's not me!" because I was comforting a total stranger thinking it was him.

My grandfather had always doted on me. Up until he developed dementia, he spoiled me rotten.

I believe he called the staff member to save me.

Looking at my grandfather's portrait, I pledged to myself that from now on, I will always return home on the anniversary of his death.