Like a hammer striking my head, I froze in place.

  Wasn't this the same ball I had seen in the hospital after I woke up?

  'This is an illusion. This is an illusion.'

  I didn't know whether considering it an illusion was a good thing or a bad one.

  If it was an illusion, then that meant I was hallucinating.

  And if it wasn't… then it meant this thing appeared only to me.

  I took a few cautious, dragging steps toward the suspended object, afraid it might move.

  I paused for a moment, slipped my shoe off my foot, then continued with the same careful steps.

  There wasn't much difference between seeing a cockroach and seeing a strange thing that appeared and disappeared—both were disgusting and terrifying.

  When you spot either of them, they freeze in place.

  And when you try to report it… you can't find it.

  The same behavior as a cockroach.

  And the most suitable weapon against cockroaches was a slipper.

  That was the first thing that crossed my mind…

  I stopped two steps away from the strange object, hesitating.

  Should I hit it directly? Or throw the slipper at it?

  I abandoned the slipper idea when I noticed the difference in size between it and the black fuzzy ball.

  It was about the size of a human head.

  Are hallucinations even something you can hit?

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  I put my shoe back on and watched the ball for a few seconds.

  There was no movement.

  Maybe the problem was in my eyes?

  I remembered my maternal grandmother once going to an eye doctor because she was seeing black shadows. He had told her it was retinal detachment.

  Yes… but it was impossible for something like that to happen to me.

  At the very least, I wasn't suffering from retinal detachment.

  I moved my eyes quickly around the room, but I didn't see any black shadows anywhere except where the fuzzy ball was. My gaze snapped back to it immediately, afraid I might miss a movement—or that it might jump at me.

  But the ball was still the same.

  Then there was no other possibility except that it was a hallucination…

  I placed my hand over my heart and gave it an encouraging push.

  Then I went ahead with the idea I knew was inevitable, the one I had been postponing.

  …I extended my finger toward the ball, afraid it would leap at me at any moment.

  Just like what happened with my father, I expected my finger to pass right through it.

  But no.

  Contrary to all expectations, my finger touched the ball.

  I felt its texture at the tip of my finger.

  Despite its fuzzy appearance, its touch was anything but pleasant.

  What did it feel like?

  Yes… like hair.

  Didn't the fact that I could touch it mean it wasn't a hallucination?

  Yes, just as I thought—it must be some kind of decoration.

  My mother must have put it there while I was in a coma.

  I gathered my courage again, then spread the rest of my fingers and held the ball in my palm, gently feeling it.

  But this was strange…

  What kind of technique allowed this ball to remain suspended?

  I couldn't see any hanging strings or adhesive points…

  The moment that thought crossed my mind—

  right above where my hand was—

  a horizontal slit appeared on the black, hair-textured ball.

  The slit slowly opened, revealing a smooth, soft yellow gem.

  Little by little, the small black pupil elongated, sharpening into a predatory vertical slit. It wasn't just looking at me; it was observing. An eye—ancient, cold, and misplaced—staring from a void of hair.

  With one sudden movement, the small black circle turned into a vertical slit—

  and it looked straight at me.

  Yes. It looked.

  It was an eye.

  'Run. Run. Run.'

  That was the only thought I could form when the yellow eye's gaze fell upon me.

  A secret terror crawled through my body.

  It wasn't just the strangeness of the sight—

  there was something terrifying in that look, as if it were staring into the depths of my soul.

  But the thought was only a thought.

  I couldn't move an inch.

  I didn't even realize what state I was in.

  I was gasping, as if my lungs were being squeezed of air, sweat pouring out of my body from sheer fear.

  I wasn't able to break free until the ball closed its slit—after a duration that felt like an eternity.

  My body jerked backward.

  It wasn't by my will—it was more like an instinctive reaction, like touching fire.

  What I had touched wasn't a fuzzy ball.

  It was a burning ball of fire.

  What was that?

  What was that?!

  My awareness had been stolen from me—and then suddenly returned.

  A wave of terror attacked me, and a scream escaped my mouth.

  I quickly covered my mouth—but it was too late.

  "Mariam!!"

  My mother burst into the room, followed quickly by the rest of the family.

  "What happened?"

  I removed my hand from my mouth and pointed in one direction—

  with a trembling hand and a face pale as a corpse.

  I pointed to where the ball had been.

  "T-the… ball."

  Everyone looked where I pointed, then their gazes returned to me, as if they were staring at an alien.

  And one question—

  one single question—nearly gave me a heart attack worse than touching the fuzzy, hair-textured ball itself.

  "Which ball?"

  It was there.

  Right in front of them.

  And they couldn't see it.

  Now… it was certain.

  I was the only one who could see it.