Night had fallen over a hotel in the eastern part of Singapore during the Lunar Ghost Month, and the lobby was bathed in a dim, eerie glow. Brandon, the front desk manager, was used to the quiet monotony of the night shift. He enjoyed the stillness, the rare interruption of a check-in or the occasional request from a guest.

At 3:17 AM, the phone rang, jolting Brandon from his drowsy state. He glanced at the caller ID: Room 204. Puzzled, he picked up the receiver.

"Front desk, how can I assist you?" he asked, his voice steady.

Silence greeted him. He strained to hear any background noise, but there was nothing—just an oppressive silence. After a few seconds, he hung up, dismissing it as a prank or a technical glitch.

Minutes later, the phone rang again. Room 204.

"Front desk," Brandon repeated, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone. Again, silence. This time, he felt a shiver run down his spine. He hung up more forcefully, muttering under his breath about inconsiderate guests.

For the third time, the phone rang. Brandon snatched it up, his patience worn thin. "Listen, if this is some kind of joke, it's not funny!" His voice echoed in the empty lobby. Once again, no response.

His frustration morphed into a gnawing unease. Determined to confront the troublemaker, he decided to check the hotel’s guest management system. He logged in and navigated to Room 204. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he double-checked the records.

No guest was assigned to Room 204. The room was listed as vacant, having not been booked for several weeks due to ongoing maintenance.

Brandon felt a cold sweat trickle down his back. He glanced towards the hallway leading to the lifts, the shadows seeming to grow darker, more menacing.

Curiosity and fear battled within him. Summoning his courage, he decided to investigate. Grabbing a master key, he made his way to the second floor, each step echoing through the silent corridors.

He reached Room 204 and stood before the door, his heart pounding. Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key and turned the handle. The door creaked open, revealing a room cloaked in darkness. He flicked on the light switch, and the overhead lights flickered to life, casting a dim glow.

The room appeared normal at first glance—neatly made bed, empty chairs, and a pristine bathroom. But something felt off. An unnatural chill hung in the air, and the shadows seemed to move with a life of their own.

As Brandon stepped further into the room, he noticed the phone on the bedside table. It was off the hook, the receiver resting beside it. He picked it up, staring at it in confusion. Suddenly, he felt a cold breath against his ear, as if someone were whispering to him to leave.

His heart raced, and without a second thought, he bolted from the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. He didn't stop running until he was back at the front desk, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Brandon looked around the empty lobby, the eerie silence now a menacing presence. The phone on his desk remained silent, but the memory of that cold breath lingered, a chilling reminder that some rooms are best left undisturbed.