There is no Number 13 at the hotel.
At least, there isn't supposed to be.
But when shadows stretch in the wrong direction and the architecture begins to forget its own shape, what starts as a quiet academic stay becomes something else entirely.
Elegant, unsettling, and steeped in the unseen, Number 13 is M. R. James at his most refined—where the floorplan of reality folds, and one door too many stands ajar.