The doorway appeared on the third morning of the renovation.
Until then, the western wall of the upstairs corridor had been perfectly ordinary. The workers had removed several layers of faded wallpaper and found nothing unusual beneath them except cracked plaster and old brick.
But when the owner returned after lunch, a narrow wooden door stood in the middle of the wall.
No one admitted installing it.
The handle was cold, darker than the wood around it, and covered with shallow marks that looked almost like writing. The corridor was only two metres wide, and the exterior wall of the house stood directly behind it. According to the original plans, there was no space for another room.
They opened it shortly before sunset.
Behind the door was a long corridor illuminated by a weak yellow light. It stretched farther than the entire length of the house. The wallpaper matched the pattern that had been removed that morning, although it appeared newer and completely untouched.
At the far end stood another door.
The owner called into the corridor and heard his own voice answer from somewhere beyond it.
It did not repeat his words.
It said his name.
The workers left the house immediately. The owner remained behind long enough to close the door and place a heavy cabinet in front of it.
The next morning, the cabinet was still there.
The doorway was not.
Only the original wall remained, freshly plastered and completely dry.
One of the workers never returned to the site. His phone was later found inside the locked house, lying on the floor where the doorway had appeared.