It was the last day of our family vacation. Dad went out to grab late-night snacks, and Mom was in the bathroom taking a shower. Suddenly, the hotel room door let out a sharp beep, and a strange man swiped a keycard and walked right in. He locked the door behind him and headed straight for the bathroom. I hid under the covers, absolutely terrified, sobbing as I dialed my dad’s number. "Daddy, come back! Hurry!" Dad sprinted all the way back to the hotel, bumping right into the man as he walked out of our room, casually pulling up his pants. The man even smiled and greeted my dad. "My bad, buddy. Walked into the wrong room." The two of them got into a brutal fight in the hallway. The man pushed my dad down the concrete fire escape stairs, then fled the scene without a trace. The hotel claimed it was simply a system glitch—an extra keycard printed by mistake—and compensated us with $50,000. But my mom never spoke another word after that night. A year later, she passed away in a psychiatric facility. I was sent to live with my grandmother, haunted every single night by the sound of that electronic beep. From then on, my nightmares played on an endless loop: sometimes my phone call caused my dad's death, sometimes not calling caused my mom's. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the year I was seven. The front desk receptionist was smiling, handing two keycards across the counter to my dad. I stared dead at the encoder next to her computer keyboard. Resting on it was a third card, its green light still blinking. "Miss," I pointed at it. "Who are you giving that third keycard to?" Chapter 1 The receptionist's practiced, professional smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. She glanced down at the card I was pointing to, then casually covered it with her palm. "You're mistaken, sweetie. This is just a dud card. The system glitched and didn't write the information properly." My dad looked down as well. "A dud?" "Yes, sir." The receptionist smiled and slid the two real keycards into a paper sleeve. "Sir, you are booked in the family suite on the 17th floor. Your two cards are ready." "Breakfast is from 7:00 to 10:00 AM in the second-floor dining room." As she spoke, she tried to nonchalantly sweep the third card under her hand into the recycle bin next to her. "Don't throw it away!" I let out a piercing scream and lunged across the counter, slamming my hands down over hers. I didn't have much strength, but the sudden movement was startling. The receptionist jumped, and the guests lined up behind us began casting strange looks in our direction. My dad looked confused too. "What's wrong, sweetie?" I just stared at that card. In my previous life, the police had investigated the hotel's backend system. The hotel's official explanation was a system malfunction. They claimed the receptionist accidentally encoded an extra keycard, which was later mistakenly picked up by another guest. That was how that man was able to swipe open our door. The hotel was willing to pay $50,000 in damages. But by then, my dad was dead, and my mom had lost her mind. My family was completely destroyed in an instant, yet everyone told me: "The hotel already paid the settlement. It was just a tragic accident." But my family could never come back. "Daddy, take this card too." The receptionist’s expression shifted. "Sir, this card is useless." "If it’s a dud card and my kid wants to play with it, just let her have it." "This..." The receptionist tried to pull her hand back, but I gripped her wrist with everything I had. "Didn't you say it was useless?" "Why won't you give it to me?" My dad finally sensed that something was off. He looked directly at the receptionist. "Since this is an extra keycard printed for our room, we should have the right to dispose of it, shouldn't we?" The receptionist’s smile looked strained. My dad nodded. "Alright." "Then destroy it right now, right in front of me." The receptionist didn't move. A few seconds passed before she managed a forced smile. "Of course." She picked up the keycard and tapped it against the encoder machine next to the monitor. "There you go, sir. It's completely wiped." The machine flashed a red light. The receptionist casually tossed the card into the recycle bin, smiling brightly. "It's completely useless now." My dad patted my head. "Alright, you feel better now?" I didn't answer. The events of my previous life were still vividly burned into my memory. I remembered exactly what the police had told me during the investigation: a red light simply meant an invalid operation. It did not mean the card was wiped. I shook my head frantically, looking up at my dad with tear-filled eyes. "Daddy, I don't trust her. Let's test it ourselves, please?" The receptionist froze entirely. "Test what?" I pointed at the recycle bin. "The third card." All the color instantly drained from her face. Chapter 2 My dad looked at me for a few seconds. The sheer, soul-deep terror etched into my face helped him make a swift decision. "Take it out." "Sir, I promise you, it's already deactivated." "Even better if it is." My dad's tone remained polite, but firm. "We'll go up to the room and test it on the door." "If it doesn't open, I'll personally apologize to you for my daughter's unreasonable behavior." The receptionist remained glued to the spot. The guests behind us were getting impatient, and another staff member walked over. "What's going on here?" The receptionist rushed to explain, "Nothing, the little girl saw I grabbed an extra card by mistake and insisted on looking at it." I immediately fired back. "You didn't grab it by mistake. When you were encoding the cards, the machine beeped three times." Her face completely stiffened. My dad turned to her. "You made three cards?" "I..." The hotel manager happened to step out of his office. After getting the gist of the situation, he quickly put on a smooth smile to play peacemaker. "It was likely just an employee error, sir. Sometimes guests in family suites request three cards, so she might have made an extra one out of habit." The receptionist nodded eagerly. "Yes, I just encoded an extra one out of habit." The story had changed. A minute ago, it was a "dud card the system misprinted." Now, it was "encoded out of habit." In my past life, they used these exact same slippery tactics to sweep everything under the rug. My dad's expression slowly darkened. "Take it out." The manager shot the receptionist a look, and she reluctantly fished the card out of the recycle bin. My dad took all three cards and clenched them in his fist. "Please show us to our room." The manager's smile faded a bit. "Sir, if you're really that worried, we can simply encode new cards for you right now. There's no need to..." "Test it." My dad cut him off with two words. Three minutes later, we were standing on the 17th floor. My dad pulled out the first keycard and tapped it against the electronic lock. Beep. The green light flashed, and the door clicked open. He did the same with the second card. Finally, my dad pulled the door shut and held up the third card. The receptionist's lips were completely devoid of color. My dad pressed the card against the lock. Beep. A crisp, electronic chime echoed in the hallway, the green light flashed, and the heavy door swung open. Dead silence fell over the corridor. The receptionist stared at the floor. Cold sweat beaded on the manager's forehead, his practiced smile entirely gone. I stared unblinking at that open door. In my previous life, it was exactly this sound that signaled the beginning of our family's nightmare. Late that night, around 11:00 PM, my dad went out to buy the barbecue skewers my mom had suddenly craved. I was on the bed watching cartoons, and my mom was in the shower. Then, the door let out that soft chime. Beep. I thought my dad had forgotten something, but when I looked up, I saw a completely strange man. In this life, I had finally caught the card that was never supposed to exist, right before that door could be swiped open by a predator for the first time. My dad didn't yell or lose his temper. He simply pulled out his phone, snapped a photo of the three keycards in his hand, and calmly asked: "Now, would anyone like to explain this?" The receptionist looked ghastly pale, her voice cracking with a sob. "I... I really just made an extra one by accident, and I forgot to wipe it..." "Then why did you tell me it was a dud?" "I was afraid you'd misunderstand." "Why didn't you just hand it over to me?" "Hotel policy says we can't casually give out..." "Then when I explicitly asked you to destroy it, why did you fake it?" The receptionist had absolutely nothing left to say. The manager quickly stepped in. "Sir, this is undeniably a grave error on our employee's part. Tell you what—we will immediately move you to a different room, offer a complimentary upgrade to our executive suite, and waive your room charges for tonight entirely." My head snapped up. It was happening again. Just like in my previous life. First, they claim it's a system error. Then they offer free rooms, free breakfasts, and eventually, a $50,000 settlement. They always tried to throw money at the problem, but no one ever answered the most important question: How did that card end up in a stranger's hands? Chapter 3 I grabbed my dad's hand tightly. "We don't want compensation." The manager clearly wasn't expecting that. I glared at him and asked, "Who was that third card for?" "Sweetie, it was just a careless mistake by the staff." "Then why did she try to hide it?" The manager's polite demeanor cracked. "No one was hiding anything." I pointed a finger straight at the receptionist. "She slid the card right next to her keyboard to hide it." The receptionist fired back immediately, "I just set it down there!" "Then why didn't you give it to my dad?" "I..." She was speechless again. My dad had zero patience left. "I want to see the keycard encoding logs." The manager's face hardened. "That is internal hotel data, sir." "Then we call the police." My dad pulled out his phone. "Let the police look at it." The receptionist's head snapped up, her voice suddenly shrill and panicked. "Is that really necessary?! I made one extra keycard, and no one even took it! Do you seriously need to call the cops over this?!" My dad gave her a cold look. "I initially thought you just made a clumsy mistake. But looking at your reaction, I'd say it's absolutely necessary." She snapped her mouth shut. Left with no choice, the manager escorted us back to the lobby and opened the backend system. The screen displayed Room 1708. Total active keycards: 3. The creation times were mere seconds apart, and all three were logged under the same receptionist's employee ID. There was no system glitch. The machine didn't automatically spit out an extra card. Someone had manually, intentionally encoded three separate cards. My dad pointed at the screen. "You call this an accidental keystroke?" The receptionist's face flushed bright red. "My finger slipped." "If your finger slipped, why not just hand it over to me?" "I..." My dad stared her down. "Why hide it next to the keyboard?" The manager interrupted, "Sir, please calm down." "I am completely calm." My dad stated flatly. "I am only asking one question: Who was this card meant for?" No one answered. Right at that moment, the automatic sliding doors of the lobby glided open. A man in a black t-shirt walked in. He wasn't carrying any luggage. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room, but he didn't head for the front desk. Instead, he casually let his gaze sweep across the lobby. The moment I saw him, it felt like all the blood was drained from my body. In my previous life, I was too terrified to look at him when he entered the room, hiding deep under the covers. I only saw his face clearly after my dad ran back. When he walked out of our room, he was still zipping up his pants. Facing my dad in the hallway, he didn't look panicked at all. He even smiled and said, "My bad, buddy. Walked into the wrong room." And then they fought. I will never, ever forget the malicious look on his face when he shoved my dad down the stairs. It was this exact man. I buried my face in my dad's chest, shaking like a leaf in the wind. "Daddy..." He looked down at me, but I could only point a trembling finger toward the man in the lobby and whisper, "I'm scared of him." My dad followed my gaze. The man seemed to sense he was being watched and looked up. Our eyes met. He didn't look away or act suspicious. Instead, he offered my dad a casual, polite nod, looking exactly like a complete stranger making accidental eye contact. Then, he didn't approach the desk. He walked over to the lounge area on the far side of the lobby, sat down on a sofa, and pulled out his phone. It all looked incredibly normal, as if he were just a regular guest. My dad crouched down. "Do you know him, sweetie?" I shook my head. In this life, I certainly wasn't supposed to know him. The manager glanced over as well. "That appears to be a guest, sir." I suddenly asked, "What room is he staying in?" The manager frowned. "Guest privacy policies prevent me from disclosing that." "Then you can at least tell me if he's actually checked into this hotel." The manager didn't answer. Another receptionist nearby discreetly checked the system and hesitated before answering, "It looks like... no." The lobby fell into a suffocating silence. The man remained on the sofa. No luggage, no attempt to check-in, not meeting anyone. He just sat there, waiting. I knew exactly what he was waiting for. He was waiting for the husband to leave. Waiting for the wife to be alone. Waiting for the perfect, vulnerable moment. Chapter 4 My dad looked at the receptionist. "Do you know him?" Her eyes darted nervously, refusing to look toward the lounge area, but she answered far too quickly. "No." It was too fast. She hadn't even paused to think. I stared at her. She kept her eyes glued to her desk, and the man on the sofa never once glanced in her direction. But the harder they tried to ignore each other, the more obvious it became. "Is that so?" My dad pulled out his phone and dialed 911. The manager's face twisted in horror. "Sir, this was just a keycard encoding error! Just because some guy is sitting in our lobby doesn't mean anything! Why are you calling the police?!" "Your hotel printed a third active keycard for my room. Your employee hid it from me, lied about it being a dud, and then lied about destroying it. And right now, there is an unregistered man loitering in your lobby." The manager tried to protest, but the man on the sofa suddenly stood up. It seemed he realized the waiting game was over. He turned and started walking toward the exit. My dad’s instincts flared, and he took a step to pursue him. But the horrific imagery of my past life exploded in my brain. My dad lying in a pool of his own blood. That man's terrifying, merciless face. I could not let my dad die chasing him! I wrapped my arms around my dad's leg with every ounce of strength I had, screaming and sobbing hysterically. "Don't chase him!" "Daddy, don't go! Please, please don't chase him!" My dad was frozen in his tracks by my agonizing cries. He looked down at my face, twisted in sheer terror, and finally stopped. The man quickly disappeared through the sliding doors. A few minutes later, the police arrived. The receptionist adamantly stuck to her story: she made an accidental keystroke, and she had absolutely no idea who the man in the lobby was. Since the man had already left, it seemed like the situation was going to hit a dead end—until the police demanded to see the lobby CCTV footage. They scrubbed the footage backward. At 5:14 PM, hours before we even arrived at the hotel, the man had come in. He didn't check-in. He just walked up to the front desk and spoke for a few moments. Though there was no audio, the camera clearly showed the person he was speaking to was the exact same receptionist. They absolutely knew each other. The receptionist's face drained of all color. The police officer glared at her. "You said you didn't know him." Her lips trembled. "He... he stayed at our hotel before." "Staying here makes you friends?" "He comes by often." "To do what?" "To visit a friend." "What friend?" The receptionist couldn't answer. The footage kept playing. The man stayed at the desk for less than two minutes before leaving. At 7:06 PM, our family walked into the hotel to check-in. The three keycards were printed consecutively. Two were handed to my dad. The third was slipped silently next to her keyboard. Nobody said a word, but the receptionist's hands began to shake uncontrollably. "Is this your 'accidental keystroke'?" the officer asked. Her lips moved uselessly a few times. "I... I forgot about it." The police fast-forwarded the video. At 8:43 PM, the man returned to the hotel. He didn't register at the desk, nor did he approach the receptionist. He just sat on the lobby sofa for over forty minutes. During that time, the receptionist glanced at him exactly six times. The seventh time was when my dad stepped out of the elevator. My dad had come down to buy water at the convenience store. When my dad walked past the lobby, the man on the sofa looked up. The receptionist looked up. They both simultaneously tracked my dad as he walked out the front doors. A bone-deep chill washed over me. In my past life, on the last day of our trip, my dad went out around 11:00 PM to buy late-night snacks. It was only after he left the building that the man swiped the card and entered our room. He didn't just stumble into the wrong room by accident. He had been waiting. Waiting for the man of the room to leave. Chapter 5 My dad connected the dots too. His expression turned lethal. "So, you were waiting for me to step out?" The receptionist shook her head frantically. "No!" "Then why was he just sitting there?" "I don't know!" "Then why, when I went to the convenience store, did you both stare at me as I left?" "It was a coincidence! Just a coincidence!" Her voice grew shrill and frantic, as if she were trying to convince herself rather than us. The police officer ordered her to hand over her phone. She took a sharp step backward. "Why should I?" In that instant, every eye in the lobby locked onto her. Realizing how guilty her reaction looked, she quickly scrambled to cover it up. "My phone is my private property." The police didn't forcibly seize it on the spot, but they officially ordered the hotel to secure and preserve all CCTV footage and backend server logs. My dad had no intention of staying another minute in this hotel. He told my mom to wait in the lobby with me while he went upstairs to pack our bags. I panicked immediately. "No, we're all going together!" My mom looked confused. "Dad's just going up to grab the suitcases." I clutched my dad’s shirt in a death grip. "Together." Seeing my panic, my dad didn't ask questions. He took both of us up in the elevator with him. When the doors slid open on the 17th floor, a voice called out from down the hall. "Sir, wait a moment!" A cleaning lady pushing a housekeeping cart hurried over, holding a white paper keycard sleeve. "Did you drop this?" My dad took the sleeve. Printed on the front was our room number: 1708. But both of our keycards were safely in his pocket. He opened the sleeve. There was no keycard inside—only a small, folded piece of paper. He unfolded it. Two lines were scrawled across it. "Let me know when the guy leaves." "Usual deal, unlocking it is on you."
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