Lim Chu Kang Camp, home to the 4th Singapore Infantry Regiment, is nestled in a region known for its eerie silence and ominous history. Flanked by cemeteries and abandoned kampongs, the camp is a hotspot for supernatural sightings and unexplained occurrences. Tales of ghostly apparitions, whispered secrets, and eerie encounters have been passed down through generations of soldiers stationed there.

Private Hasan had been assigned to sentry duty that fateful night. As a soldier in 4 SIR, he was well-versed in the routines and challenges of life at Lim Chu Kang Camp. Despite the eerie atmosphere, he had grown accustomed to the silent graves of the Chinese cemeteries that lay beyond the barbed wire fences. The moon hung low, casting an ethereal glow over the headstones, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze was the only sound to break the stillness.

The pillbox where Hasan stood was a relic of the past, a concrete fortress meant to guard against unseen enemies. Its narrow slits offered a panoramic view of the cemetery, and it was here, as the clock struck midnight, that Hasan saw them.

Seated on a moss-covered tombstone were two men unlike any Hasan had ever seen. One man was dressed in a flowing black robe that seemed to absorb the moonlight, wearing a tall, square hat that marked him as a figure from another era. The other man wore a pristine white robe and a similar hat. Both held delicate fans in one hand and long, ornate pipes in the other. The sweet, pungent smell of tobacco wafted through the air as they took leisurely puffs, exhaling plumes of smoke that drifted lazily upwards.

Hasan's heart raced as he watched the men. There was something both regal and unnerving about the way they sat, so at ease in a place of death. The men seemed to be in their own world, unaware or unconcerned by Hasan's presence. As they continued to fan themselves, their eyes, dark and deep, locked with Hasan's.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Hasan's training dictated that he should challenge the intruders, but his voice caught in his throat. Their gazes were hypnotic, holding him in place. Then, with slow, deliberate motions, the men stood, their robes billowing around them as if moved by an unseen breeze. They gave Hasan a final, knowing look before turning and walking deeper into the cemetery.

Hasan blinked, and the men were gone. The tombstone where they had sat was once again just a weathered piece of stone, indistinguishable from the others around it. Trembling, Hasan reported the sighting to his duty officer, but a thorough search of the area revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

In the days that followed, Hasan shared his experience with some of his Chinese friends in the camp. They listened intently and then shared their own knowledge of the supernatural. They told him that the men he had seen resembled descriptions of the Black and White Deities of the Underworld in Chinese folklore. These deities, often depicted in similar attire in old paintings and historical records, were responsible for escorting the souls of the dead to the afterlife. Just as Hasan was guarding the living world, these deities were on guard duty in the realm of the dead.

The incident left a lasting impression on Hasan and his fellow soldiers. Though they continued their duties with the same professionalism, the night seemed a little darker, the silence a bit more profound. They realized that on that fateful night, there were indeed two sets of guards on duty – Hasan, protecting the camp, and the Black and White Deities, overseeing the spirits. Two guardians from different worlds, united in their vigil.