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Detective Walsh was one of the most competent detectives in Barusa Town because of his knack for solving baffling cases. This was thanks to his logical mind and relentless determination. However, the case in Madeline’s Highschool and the missing person’s case made him doubt his detective skills.
Still, there was one case that eluded him and that was his murdered parents.
“I never walked into that house since their murder,” he muttered staring at the picture of a two-story white bungalow with boarded-up windows. “Well, I don’t have much of a choice do I?"
Putting the picture back into the pocket of his brown jacket, he walked out of his office and entered his car.
The drive to his family's home was just an hour away. As he drove, he recalled the day he learned his family had been murdered many years ago. He was in his last year at the police academy when a detective delivered the devastating message to him and asked questions.
They didn’t have enemies.
They were good people.
So why did they die?
All that was left was the house. It had a long reputation for being haunted by rumors of lost souls and eerie sightings that sent shivers down a spine. It snowed heavily when he arrived at his family’s home. Stepping out of the car, he looked at the three-story bungalow and walked up to the front door. He grabbed the spare keys he had kept for years and unlocked the door.
The door creaked as he opened it to an oppressive atmosphere. The air was thick with dust and the silence was heavy. Swallowing saliva, he walked inside the house leaving the door open.
Which slammed shut upon his entry.
Astonished, he ran to the door, but the door wouldn't budge when he tried to open it.
“Shit!” he muttered when his key nearly bent on impact. “Now what?”
An eerie sound filled the air so he took out a flashlight and a gun.
“Who is there?” he yelled.
A ghostly shadow appeared behind him and quickly vanished when he turned around but saw nothing. Swallowing his fear, he walked into the decrepit hallways until he stumbled into his father’s study.
“I remember my dad always had a mirror in his study,” he muttered under his breath as he looked around the room. “I wonder why?”
Behind him was a mirror but his reflection was replaced with that of the bloody corpse of a woman staring at him with bloodshot eyes. The ghost reached out to grab him but the chill on his neck forced him to turn around to see his reflection looking back at him. The Detective heard a squeaking sound behind him and turned around to see an arrow pointing to the bookshelf. Confused, he walked towards the bookshelf and touched the books until one moved revealing a secret passage behind the shelf.
“Was this always there?” he asked looking down the stairs leading to the abyss below. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the stairs until he discovered a room filled with symbols written on the wall. He also discovered an armchair and a stool next to a broken bookshelf but books and papers were scattered across the floor.
“What am I doing here?" he asks as he picks up one of the books entitled 'Witch Craft and Soul Taking’.
"What the hell?”
Then he heard something close. Panicked, he dropped the book on the stool and rushed up the stairs only to discover that the entrance to the passageway was closed.
“Hey!” He banged on the stone wall in frustration. “This isn’t funny!”
He heard a cackle and thrashed his head to see the ghostly image of his late father walking down the stairs. A shiver swept up his spine as he followed him down the staircase until he saw him staring at the mirror.
“Father?” he asked.
It disappeared in response and the Detective noticed the black book he was looking at was flipped to a page. The papers scattered on the floor were arranged neatly on the stool. After marking the page with his bookmark, he stuffed the papers in his bag.
‘I’ll look at this when I get to the office,’ he said as he looked around. ‘Let’s get out of here,’
This time, he took a closer look at the room and noticed a set of gears on the wall. Curious, he looked around and found the other gear stashed behind the pile of books. When the gear was fixed, the door to the secret passage was opened. The Detective climbed out of the room and walked out of the study.
“Well that was creepy,” he thought to himself. “But how will I get out of here?”
With the front door still locked, he tried the dining room door and it was unlocked much to his surprise. The bloody corpse of his late father flashed before his eyes once he entered the room.
‘Maybe this was a bad idea…’
The door slammed shut behind him and a click was heard. He turned around and tried to get it open but it refused to budge.
‘Great! Now what?’
The dining room had an open kitchen attached to it. The more he inspected the room, the more he remembered the early events in his life and his family.
‘My father always loved an open kitchen,’ he said as he entered a huge white-tiled room with stoves and ovens. ‘I remember him telling me he was once a cook before meeting my mom. Then why did he hire a chef to cook whenever we host a gathering? Could it be that he was lying?’
Everywhere looked normal for a standard kitchen but had a Western dining aesthetic. This confused the Detective who remembered him growing up in an Asian home.
So why westernize everything?
He opened one of the drawers and saw a note.
‘Father had to fire the chief today.
I don’t know why?
He rants about how the chief embarrassed him in front of his guests. According to him, the food was subpar and he was ashamed that his guest Anna Jones ate it.
Mom was angry but Dad didn’t want to hear it. Mrs. Cross-wood's daughter was cute though.’
‘Mrs. Cross-wood huh?' He asked, putting the note in his bag. ‘There must be someone by that name.’
He opened another drawer and found a key hidden under a pile of silverware which he tried on the dining room door. It opened and he walked up the stairs to his brother’s room.
Upon opening the door, the first thing he noticed was the framed picture of him and his younger brother smiling at the camera.
‘We looked so different,’ he said while picking it up. ‘Sometimes, I wonder if we were adopted.’
He put the framed photo back on the bedside stool drawer, then searched the room until he found a brown book in the drawer.
‘It’s my brother’s diary,’ he opened it and discovered that most of the pageswere missing. ‘What the...?'
A gust of wind caught his attention but the windows were boarded up and closed. Humming in thought, he sat on the bed and read through the book.
'February 15th, 2008
I heard Mom and Dad argue again yesterday.
Something about Dad giving my brother a Western name.
Why are they arguing?
I don’t understand why they act like this.
I asked my brother but he told me not to worry about it.
‘They are adults. They can handle it.’ These were his words.
I wanted to tell him what I was seeing but he fell asleep before I could speak up about the visions that plagued me every night.
At least he doesn't know about the eyes underneath his bed.’
This sent a shiver down the detective’s spine.
‘Monsters? I had monsters living under my bed? Is he insane?’ He decided to think of something else instead. ‘My mom hated our Western names and always called us by our Asian names. My name was Tatsumi and Sebastian’s name was Yukihiro.”
The door swung open with a click, and he last saw a piece of white fabric disappearing past the frame of the door. Stepping out of his brother’s room, he saw a ghostly figure walking through the door next to the room. The sound of a woman crying could be heard.
“I don’t want to go there,” he whispered putting the note in his bag. “Let’s find a way out of here.”
Walking down the stairs he jumped out of his skin when he saw what looked like the silhouette of a man climbing up the stairs. Terrified, he moved aside and the figure walked past him not saying a word, and disappeared down the corridor.
Still shaking in his boots, he walked back to the kitchen.
‘There used to be a door leading to the backyard,’ he thought as he entered the dining room. ‘I can use that to get out of this house.’
After finding the door, he opened it only to find a brick wall blocking his way.
“What the hell is going on?" he asked, taking a step back. “When was that there?”
The wind howled and a loud scream echoed through the house. Terrified, he saw the silhouette run down the hall with his ghostly father chasing after him. The figure disappeared through the door while the screaming increased.
Then it fell quiet.
He looked up at the hallway upstairs and swallowed saliva.
“Alright,” he whispered while taking out his gun and flashlight. “Let’s do this.”
At a steady pace, he walked up the stairs. “I know you are here! Come out.”
His legs were shaking as the volume of the sound increased, but he steadied himself until he reached the door. With a swift kick, he knocked the door down and looked around the room.
It was empty.
He lowered his stance. “I could have."
Then his eyes fell on a box with a key lock. Putting his gun back in his hostler, he took out a lock pick and opened it. Unbeknownst to him, the ghostly figure of the woman with bloodshot eyes appeared behind him. With eyes filled with hatred, it reached out to plunge its long nails into his spine. However, Sebastian dragged her away.
The Detective heard a screech behind him and looked behind him. Finding nothing behind him, he continued to tinker with the box until it opened. Inside was a sheet of paper and a small piece of paper; a worn-out piece of paper with a name written in bold print.
"Sakura Medical Group," he said as he examined the paper. “It looks like DNA results, but I can't see anything."
He put the paper into his bag and read the diary entry on the other paper.
'March 15th, 2010
The house is quiet today and I am lonely because my brother is in boarding school but it's okay.
Remember when I said I had imaginary friends?
Well, I discovered that they were ghosts. The monster who lives under my brother’s bed? Well, he is just a monster who likes living there.
Creepy isn’t it?
I am also talking to a ghostly man who has been teaching me how to use my powers. This is thanks to the book I found in my father’s study.
My powers aren’t much. I can cultivate spirit energy, shoot projectiles out of my hands and summon ghosts to tell me their story. However, there is a power I must stay away from. It’s called Death Sight.
It helps me see when someone is going to die but if I prevent their death, I will lose half of my life span. Upon asking the ghostly man why this happens, he told me that this is the cost of interrupting someone's fate at the cost of the loss.
I wish I didn’t have this power.
I hate it.
I have to be selfish to keep myself alive but selfless to keep someone else alive.
This power of mine really bothers me.'
When he was done reading the entry, he inspected the room for anything of use but found nothing.
“This is making my head spin,” he thought as he opened the door to the bathroom and checked the taps but they weren’t working. “Figures. Just when I needed water to clear my head.”
He looked at the mirror in front of the wash hand basin. Tired eyes, a four o'clock shave, and a disorganized mustache, he glared at his reflection until it slowly disappeared before his eyes.
“What the…”
Then a ghostly woman appeared and grabbed his neck. He fought hard to pry her fingers away but she dug her nails deeper into his flesh. This caused him to lose consciousness and as he dropped to the floor, the last thing he saw was his brother looming over him.
The Detective jerked up with fright and breathed heavily. Instinctively, his hands reached out to touch his neck and he hissed at the pain.
“That wasn’t a dream,” he murmured looking around him. “I'm in my brother’s bedroom? How did I get here?”
In response to the sound of shattered glass, he thrashed his head and looked at a standing mirror that was placed close to him.
“Oh no!” He quickly swung his feet off the bed and put on his shoes. “I am not going through that again.”
After completing the task, he looked up at the mirror and jumped out of his skin when he saw his late brother's reflection. He ran to the door panicked and tried to open it, but it was locked.
“Oh come on!” He shook the door handle in a vain attempt to open it. Giving up, he turned around to the glaring eyes of his brother who stretched out his hand and twitched his fingers.
"He wants something?" He dipped into his bag and took out his diary. ‘Is it this?’
Sebastian's eyes flashed in anger and he twitched his fingers again. Confused, he put the book back and took out the black book he found in the secret room in the study. To his shock, Sebastian nodded and the Detective's hands shivered when he placed the black book in his hand.
Taking the book, Sebastian dipped his hands into his pocket and took out a key. Still trembling, the Detective’s took the key from the ghost and watched him disappear. Looking at the key, he rushed to the front door and tried to open it.
The door opened and he rushed out of the house. The strong winds had picked up the pace whipping snowflakes at his face as he walked to his car. He opened the door, stepped inside, and tried to start the car. This proved difficult because it had been left outside in the cold. However, after a few attempts, it worked, and he drove back to the office.
Meanwhile, in a dark hall filled with mirrors, Sebastian walked through it with the book in his hand.
“Did you get it?” a female voice echoed through the void.
“Yeah,” he opened the book and a white glow illuminated his face. “There is a spell I can use to take control of the labyrinth but it won’t be easy. How are things going on at your end?”
The voice sighed. “It’s not good. Someone more menacing is threatening her domain and if we are not careful it’s going to end in a war.”
Sebastian closed the book and drew a pentagram on the floor. “What about the chosen one?”
“Let’s say she won’t bother us anytime soon."
“I highly doubt that. She still has my book and the key to set me free.” Then he looked up with red fiery eyes as the pentagram underneath him glowed. “To set us free."
“Yeah but the Dark Lord still has her claws on her,” the voice sighed. “It’s all my fault. I led him to her.”
“Don’t blame yourself. The wheels of fate are turning in our favor. We just need to wait.”
“Maybe I should poke her curiosity while I am at it?”
He smirked as his white hair locks started to levitate. “Don’t do anything suspicious, you understand?”
“I know,” there was a pause. “I love you.”
A sad look appeared on Sebastian’s face. “I love you too.”
The moment their communication was severed, Sebastian immersed himself in the ritual chanting until he floated above the pentagram and attracted dust-like particles to him.
"Just a little while longer," he whispered. "Just a little while longer,"
ns 15.158.61.51da2
