Past midnight, at twelve o'clock.
The supernatural phenomena on the fourth floor of the Ghost Post Office seemed more active than ever before. The ghosts, previously suppressed by the rules of the post office, now felt completely out of control.
The sound of something repeatedly ramming its head against the door echoed dully.
Outside the door, hurried footsteps paced back and forth. Occasionally, the faint noises of someone moving along the hallway could be heard.
But what truly sent chills down their spines was the faint, drifting sound of singing rising from somewhere in the post office. The melody was peculiar, like an opera singer performing, the tone heavily laden with dramatic inflection. Yet, the singing intermittently faded away, disappearing as quickly as it had emerged, making it difficult to discern clearly. Judging by the distance of the sound, it seemed to come from a place far beyond the fourth floor.
