A haunted, living apartment complex that feeds on its residents slowly consuming their sanity, their bodies, and finally their souls.

Anyone who enters is trapped in its web of terror. The protagonist comes to this cursed building searching for his missing elder brother, only to realize the apartment is alive... and watching.

It's summer, and I hardly wake up early… not unless Mom comes to wake me. But she wasn't with me—she was in the village, and I was living alone in the city. I had finished my studies and was just looking for a job.

I’d been trying to call my brother for the past four days, but his phone kept showing switched off. At first, I thought maybe he was just busy with work. But when those four days turned into two weeks, I went to his apartment—the one he moved into three weeks ago.

For the first week, everything seemed fine. He used to call me every day and tell me everything was good. But then suddenly, something changed…

The police came—and left. But no one knows what happened to my brother.

Mom was in a terrible state, crying nonstop. She kept blaming the city—“This city has swallowed my son.” She kept saying, “How many times did I tell him to take that teaching job in the village? But who ever listens to me…”

Her tears just wouldn’t stop… and seeing her cry like that, even my own eyes welled up. Me—someone who never cries. Not even when Dad left us…

But today, that same Shubham was crying.

Life felt so dull and empty without Bhaiya. After he disappeared, I found out he had even paid off Dad’s debts… and was saving money for Mom. He had even bought an insurance policy for himself. But... without a body, the insurance money couldn’t be claimed. And without a body, there couldn’t even be a funeral.

Inspector Sharma said, “If he didn’t go missing on his own, then either it’s a murder… or suicide.”

The moment he said that, I shouted, “My brother can’t commit suicide! Please… find him!”

He replied, “Look, missing kids get searched for—not 26-year-old men. He must’ve gone somewhere on his own. He’ll come back. And if we find a body, we’ll inform you.”

That’s all he said… and then he left. I never saw him again.

Sometimes, I’d get a call—“We’ve found a body in Srinathpur. Come identify it.” I’d go… only to find out it wasn’t my Bhaiya.

But every time I walked away from those morgues, a part of me still held on to hope—that maybe, just maybe… he was still alive.

And that very hope… it made me stronger. Colder, maybe—but stronger. For a whole year, there was no trace of him. I kept living my life—like someone who’d already lost, someone who was empty inside… holding on to just one thing: hope.

One day, I was going through Bhaiya’s computer—reading some of his draft articles. That’s when I came across an old one. The title read: “Hungary Apartment.”

It said that “Anyone who goes there… disappears.”

The address mentioned? It was the exact same place where Bhaiya had been living.

And it was from there… that he vanished.

I sat there, lost in thought. Why did he go there?

Was this part of his work?

You see, Bhaiya used to write articles on paranormal activities. He was always deeply interested in things like that.

I was standing right in front of the building. It looked like even a small earthquake could bring the whole four-story structure crashing down.

The paint had faded long ago, washed away by rain and time. The building looked dull, lifeless… and something about it gave me a strange sense of fear. Just standing there made me uneasy.

But instead of stepping back, I tightened my grip on the bag—and without thinking twice, I walked in.

I had stayed in many places before… but this one felt different—scary in a way I couldn’t explain. The moment I stepped inside, it felt like I had walked into a dark cave. Darkness hung in every corner… it was as if sunlight never touched this place.

At the reception sat a woman, reading a newspaper. The paper looked old and torn, and it definitely didn’t have today’s date on it.

The woman had curly hair. The moment she noticed me, she lowered the newspaper and gave me a strange, fake smile.

“Come in, dear,” she said.

I stepped closer and said, “I need a room number 4"

But just then, my eyes caught a photo placed on the drawer behind her. In it, she stood beside a little boy. The photo looked like it was taken at a beach—you could clearly see the ocean in the background.

She noticed my eyes on the picture. Calmly, she closed the drawer and said, “People should learn to respect privacy.”

I nodded and quickly apologized. She smiled and replied, “No worries.”

“The room’s condition is a bit rough… actually, most rooms here are like that. But this one… is different.”

She started walking, guiding me toward the room.

We stood in front of it. I felt uneasy—something didn’t feel right.

To the side, I noticed another room. In total, there were eight rooms lined up on that floor. Only these eight were rented out.

Just eight rooms… and one landlady.

To find out how many people were currently staying here, I had to ask her.

I took the keys from her hand and casually asked, “So, how many people are staying here right now?”

She smiled again and said, “At the moment, just four. Well, five if you count me… I stay downstairs.”

“Oh, and yes,” she added, “you’ll have to go to the upper floor for the bathroom… and meals are served downstairs.”

I nodded, signaling that I understood.

Just as I was about to step into the room, she suddenly grabbed my wrist from behind.

The smile on her face had completely disappeared.

In a soft, almost whispering voice, she said, “Take care of yourself.”

For a moment, I froze. The way she said it—it sent a chill down my spine. It felt less like advice… and more like a warning.

Was it true? Do people really go missing from this place?

Did my brother vanish from this very building?

If that’s the case…

Then I have to find out what’s behind it all.