247 Iesp 458 Risa Murakami Apart (2025)

And I was already past my expiration date.

And from the bedroom, a woman’s voice—warm, smiling, wrong—called out:

Behind me, the front door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

No. We didn’t. The scale stopped at 500. 247 IESP 458 Risa Murakami Apart

The IESP (International Extra-Sensory Perception) bureau classifies hauntings on a scale from 1 to 500. A 247 is considered “Moderate-to-Severe Ambient Disturbance.” It’s the kind of case they give to agents who’ve screwed up but haven’t yet been fired.

My EMF reader didn’t spike. It flatlined. That was wrong. A 247 should rattle the dial like a maraca.

That’s how I ended up in Risa Murakami’s apartment at 3:00 AM. And I was already past my expiration date

“What mistake?”

“You’re not here to document me,” Risa said. Her voice came from everywhere and nowhere, like a radio tuned between stations. “You’re here because IESP sent you to clean up their mistake.”

“Level 247s don’t manifest physically,” I muttered, recording into my wrist mic. “Something’s off.” ” I muttered

Subject: Risa Murakami Location: The Apart

“The apart,” she whispered. “Apartment 458 isn’t haunted by me. I’m trapped here by her .”

That’s when the lights flickered and the numbers on the microwave changed. Not to 0:00. To . The apartment number. Then to 247 . Then to 11 —the months she’d been dead.

I heard breathing behind me. Not a whisper. Not a wind. The wet, rhythmic inhale-exhale of someone standing too close.