THE SICK OLD MAN

When I reached page 120 of the book, I discovered a handwritten mobile phone number. Intrigued, I called the number with my friends. On December 16th, the phone answered, instructing us to come to Sponge Street, home number 987. After debating whether to go, we decided to, but one friend fell ill and couldn’t join. With flashlights and sedatives in hand for precaution, we rang the bell at an old shop. An elderly man welcomed us, explaining his sick father’s situation. He had sold everything, including his books, to buy medicine. The last book had the phone number for help. He needed certain equipment we hadn’t heard of. Seeing his dad, diagnosed with a rare illness called cancbıonne, we bought medicines. Realizing too late that it was a trap, we attempted to flee, but he halted us with a knife. Escaping, I heard screams and suspected his sinister motives. He wrote his phone number in random books, selling them online. Victims, lured by the number, faced a deadly scheme involving a fake costume, medicine request, and gruesome outcome. I exposed the truth, leading to raids uncovering the entire story. Stolen medicines were returned to the pharmacy, and families of victims, if any, were compensated.