He downed the hot coffee she bought in one violent gulp, draining the cup to the bottom. Jina stared, impressed despite herself, at his ability to chug scalding liquid. He crushed the empty takeout cup, then scratched his cheek with a sheepish glance under her steady gaze.

“I fully intended to pay,” he said. “Until I realized I’d forgotten my wallet.”

“It’s fine. But how did you even get here?”

“Police ID gets me free rides on the bus and Tube.”

Jina let out a small, unbidden laugh at the man’s sheer cheek. Rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes, he pulled a stack of documents from his bag.

“First, I need you to sign right here.”

“What is this?”

“A document confirming we met and I asked you a few questions. Also a consent form stating there was no coercion or verbal abuse during the process.”

“Shouldn’t Mr. William Evans have to sign this too?” she asked, her eyes challenging him.

Without batting an eye, he pulled out a second, identical form, wrote “William Evans” in the signature field, and scrawled a wildly illegible signature beneath it.

“We appreciate Mr. Evans’s cooperation,” he said smoothly.

Jina’s laugh was sharp and hollow at his casual forgery.

“It’s just a formality. Who’s going to check?” he shrugged.

“All right. That aside, why did you want to see me?” Jina pushed her half-finished cup away, her posture stiffening.

“I need to confirm a few things about Ian Aylesford.”

So, he’s here to run interference for the rich young master. Jina waited, her eyes narrowed. The fatigue in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden, predatory gleam.

“Did you witness Ian Aylesford taking drugs yesterday?”

The question hit her like a physical blow. She had been bracing for questions about Kno Diag. For the one secret she thought was hers alone to come out of his mouth—she recoiled.

“No, I…”

“You went up to the fourteenth floor of the hotel, didn’t you?”

His accusatory tone made her instinctively lean back in her chair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was working in the hotel restaurant yesterday.” The denial was purely reflexive.

Inspector Haywood’s lips curved into a soft, dangerous smile. “I never said ‘yesterday.’”

Jina’s breath hitched. She bit her lip, caught by her own panicked slip. She studied the man again. The disheveled, brazen officer was suddenly a cold, calculated source of suspicion.

As Jina’s expression hardened, he linked his hands behind his head, leaned back, and slowly rotated his stiff neck.

“No need to be so wary. I’m not after the young master. I’m after Jeremy Carrington. The one who got his face bashed in yesterday and was taken to the hospital. He always causes trouble around the end of the year, so I thought I’d finally try to catch him.”

Jeremy. The name clicked.

She remembered the other man shouting at Jeremy to stop. She subtly typed “Jeremy Carrington” into her phone. A

quick search brought up a photo of him in a famous public school uniform. The face was younger than the man who’d attacked her and tried to force drugs on her, but it was him.

A dedicated webpage popped up. Clicking it revealed the name of a major corporation, one as familiar as Aylesford. And he had a title.

No wonder the hotel staff were so deferential. No wonder they tried so hard to silence me.

“As you know, he tends to have… wild nights. And the after-effects are severe. Last year, three people died a few days after a party. This year… who knows. We’ll have to wait and see if the casualties roll in.”

“So, I was keeping an eye on things this year too. How many people went in, and when and in what condition they came out.” That’s why he looks like hell.

“But the host left rather quickly this year, didn’t he? My informant tipped me that Ian Aylesford was the reason. The problem is, I couldn’t get any more information. I was about to pack up when you left the hotel. You, who walked in through the staff entrance yesterday, walked out the customer entrance connected to the river today. And your clothes had completely changed.”

The detail was precise, chilling. The fact that he knew her movements so intimately, even if she wasn’t his initial target, sent a shiver down her spine.

“…That kind of surveillance doesn’t seem legal, Inspector.”

“How can people live by strictly following the law?”

Jina conceded his point, but hearing it from a police officer was unsettling. As her silence stretched, he crushed the cup in his hand even tighter.

“Did you sleep with Ian Aylesford? Or Jeremy Carrington?”

“Hey, you…!” Jina finally snapped, her voice rising.

Inspector Haywood remained utterly unbazed. He released his hands, gave a soft yawn, and said, “Haaam. It seems you didn’t. Well, then, that’s fine.”

Was this sexual harassment? Or coercive interrogation?

She wanted to scream about filing a complaint, but that would mean bringing up the hotel incident all over again.

Haywood’s smirk confirmed her suspicion: he knew she was trapped, and he was probing the boundaries of her silence.

He gave the signed consent form a showy wave before tucking it away. He’d made her sign it for a reason.

“You asked who would see this? My superior. I get a lot of complaints.”

Jina tightened her grip on her phone. It felt like she’d met every scumbag she would ever encounter in her life over the last forty-eight hours.

“If that’s all you wanted to ask, then I’m leaving. Could I get the contact information for the person in charge of the Kno Diag case…?”

“That’s me.”

“…?”

“I’m in charge of that one too. So please, sit down again, Miss Jina Troll.”

He pulled out a new set of documents: photos of Kno Diag Mansion, pictures of the victims, and official case files. He tapped the name at the bottom with his finger.

“When I heard Ian Aylesford was involved, I personally applied to take on this case. That doesn’t mean I intend to handle it lightly. In fact, solving this properly will also help deflect pressure from the Aylesford Group chairman.”

He shook his head. “Did you know that chairman was initially trying to devour you, Miss Jina? He insisted on blaming someone—anyone—for his precious grandson’s injury. It’s his way of displacing anger, of finding an easy scapegoat for his own kin’s mistake. But now, the direction of his anger has shifted.”

“…To where?”

“To Colin Parker, the missing man. But his disappearance is strange in its own right. The police who’ve worked the case so far presume he fled, panicked after seeing his team fall and assuming they were dead. Of course, he must have been scared. A young master from a major corporation dies in a mansion he insisted on entering secretly. He must have thought his life was ruined.”

Haywood stood, looked at the café menu, and walked to the counter. He flashed his ID, exchanged a few words, and came back with a fresh cup of steaming coffee.

“But down in that basement, he had his girlfriend, Camilla Jenkins, and William, a friend he’d known for years. Would he abandon love and friendship, fleeing alone in a moment of panic? Moreover…” He blew on the hot coffee, took a sip, and paused.

“As you saw Mr. Evans acting out earlier, he insists that Colin Parker came down to the basement with them. At first, everyone thought the shock had made him delusional. Everyone else, except William Evans, said Colin Parker had checked on them and left. But Mr. Evans’s cognitive abilities are perfectly intact. And most importantly.”

Haywood drained the now-lukewarm coffee and shrugged.

“There are footprints of Colin Parker entering, but no footprints of him leaving.”

He picked up Jina’s pen and tapped the documents. “Three things have disappeared in this case. First, Colin Parker.” His finger circled Colin’s name.

“Second, James McCoy’s arm.” He moved to James’s name.

“Third… your grandmother’s body.” He circled Frida Troll’s name in the corner of the file.

“What do these three have in common?”

Jina considered the question, then shook her head. She couldn’t see any link. Colin Parker and James McCoy were friends, but her grandmother had never known them.

“Think about it,” he insisted. “There’s a very simple, huge commonality. And you and I, Miss Troll, share the same commonality.”

Jina frowned. If she and her grandmother didn’t have a link, how could she and the officer share one? She gave up and threw her hands up. “Honestly, I don’t know. What commonality?”

Haywood tapped the paper cup in front of him. “What is this?”

“…A cup?”

“Correct. And what’s inside?”

“Coffee.”

“Correct. And this?”

“Are you serious? It’s a pen.”

“Correct. Now, you and I?”

“…People.”

Haywood’s eyes curved in satisfaction. “Correct. Everything that disappeared from Kno Diag Mansion was…” He tapped the circles on the paper again. “…a person.”

A heavy silence settled. Jina, looking thoroughly worn out, broke it first.

“So, what you’re suggesting, Inspector, is that there’s a monster that eats people in Kno Diag Mansion?” A faint, weary smirk played on her lips. She had been dragged all the way here just to hear internet-level urban legends.

“I’m just saying it’s a possibility.” Haywood’s face, devoid of any humor, was entirely earnest. The sheer sincerity in his voice caused a primal, instinctive tug at the back of Jina’s neck.

“Did you call me all the way here to tell me that story?”

“No. If that were the case, I would have called you the minute you left the hotel this morning.”

“Then why?”

“Mr. William Evans requested to see you. I brought you here to grant that request. I think I’ve given you all the necessary context, so let’s go meet him. The sedative should have kicked in by now. He won’t be dangerous.” Haywood checked his watch and stood up.

“Mr. William Evans specifically requested to speak only with Miss Jina Troll,” the nurse assigned to William said, massaging her stiff neck. She looked completely frazzled from William’s recent outburst.

“What are we going to do?” she asked Haywood.

“What do you mean? If he only wants to see Miss Troll, what can I do?”

“Should we record it…?”

“That’s protocol, but… I’m going to interview Mr. Evans separately anyway. There’s no real need. Listening to that recording back is a massive headache.” Inspector Haywood gave a massive yawn and stretched.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait out here.”

“Understood.”

As Jina moved to follow the nurse, Haywood, walking toward a waiting chair with a defeated slump, suddenly called out.

“Ah, speaking of which, that perfume…”

“What? Perfume?” Jina stopped. The nurse looked at him with a puzzled expression. He scratched his head, waving a dismissive hand at the two women staring at him.

“It’s nothing. Go ahead.”

Jina continued after the nurse, lifting her arm to sniff her clothing. She sniffed again. There was the faint, clean scent of body wash, and nothing else. She lowered her arm, following the nurse down the hall.

Knock, knock. Jina tapped lightly on the door. A voice from inside immediately invited her in.

“I’ll be brief. I’m a bit slurred and drowsy from the sedative,” William added. He also said that if he fell asleep, she should simply inform the nurse and leave without waking him. The instruction was a relief. Jina was slightly nervous about meeting him alone.

She opened the door. William lay alone in a tidy room, turning his head and lifting his hand slightly in greeting.

“I am William Evans.”

“I’m Jina Troll. You wanted to see me.”

“Yes. I apologize for the trouble, but I felt I needed to meet you to confirm that I’m not crazy.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re someone who knows how much interest Colin had in that mansion.” He gestured to a nearby chair, inviting her to sit. His calmness now made it almost impossible to believe he was the same man who’d been screaming in the lobby. Jina pulled a caregiver’s chair close and sat.

“Was the person who kicked me earlier a police officer?” William asked first.

“Yes. Inspector Andy Haywood.”

“Did he say anything about me being crazy?”

“He didn’t say that.”

“Do you know why people say I’m crazy?”

“…Yes.”

Jina knew exactly why. The public had been fascinated not just by the injured Aylesford heir, but by William’s claims.

He insisted Colin had been in the basement and had vanished. He also claimed James’s arm hadn’t disappeared, but had been eaten by something.

Missing people and an unknown monster.

It was the perfect urban legend. Police footage had offered zero support, and when they announced his stories were the result of psychological shock, public interest evaporated.

“Are you still claiming that Colin is inside the mansion?”

“Haa…” A heavy sigh of pure frustration escaped him.

“The video the police saw wouldn’t have shown Colin. You’re right. We went ahead of him into the mansion.”

“Why was that?”

“Just before we entered from the road, I got a call from the broadcasting station. You know how ambitious Colin is—he didn’t want to stop at an internet channel. He was trying to break into television. He was pitching the idea everywhere, and that call came at that exact moment.”

William closed his eyes, summoning the image of that moment.

They were just about to turn onto the rutted, unpaved track to the mansion when Colin answered the call. His voice dropped in a hushed, frantic whisper.

“Oh my god, it’s a broadcast station PD! They want to talk to me?” Colin slapped his hand over the bottom of his phone, his face flushed with panicked excitement.

William scowled. This was the contact Colin had been agonizing over—a break that promised more money than their channel had ever seen. He should have been thrilled. But William looked up at the sky, a ceiling of heavy, gray clouds. It was barely noon, yet the light was already dying, promising an early, total darkness.

They were losing time. As the cinematographer, William felt a spike of anxiety. Could he capture satisfactory footage before the light failed completely?

“What should I do?” William gestured pointedly to the camera in his hands.

Colin merely waved him off. “You guys go ahead. I’ll follow once this call is over. Ah, yes, yes. This call is fine right now.”

William watched Colin pivot back to the conversation, already fully absorbed in the PD. William sighed and began moving the heavy camera gear from Colin’s car to another vehicle. The other members helped move the rest of the bags, but Ian stood a few feet away, stretching languidly and taking pointless photos of the desolate surroundings with his phone.

“Why don’t you help a little?” William challenged.

Ian shrugged. “That’s your job.” The dismissal was pure, unadulterated arrogance, the sound of a master addressing a hired hand.

That annoying offspring.

William bit back the insult. He had to endure it. Every cost of the channel was currently funded by this obnoxious rich kid’s allowance.

Displeasing him meant risking the entire operation. Even the expensive camera currently warm in William’s grip was bought with Ian’s money.

William walked over to Colin. “I’ll go ahead. Don’t forget to film your intro when you come in.”

Colin nodded, flashing an OK sign without looking away from the screen. Every episode began with Colin’s walk-up and narration, so he’d have to film his opening segment solo.

He’ll film his part well.

Colin always gave them lip service about the channel being a joint effort, yet he wanted to be the sole focus of every video.

The others resented i, but William didn’t care. He was only concerned with his salary, top-tier equipment, and footage that satisfied his own exacting standards.

He drove the rest of the grumbling crew toward the mansion, filming every decent spot along the miserable track.

“When is that damn mansion going to show up?” Ian, in the passenger seat, finally broke the tension.

Camilla, James, and Rob started echoing the sentiment from the back. The journey, all the way from London to Edinburgh and then out to this desolate point, had worn them down.

“Even with Colin’s explanation, I don’t get why we came all this way for just a mansion.”

“Right. There are plenty of mysterious mansions closer to home.”

Ian twisted around to face them. “What, Colin hasn’t told you yet?” He offered a predatory smirk. “There’s a corpse inside the mansion.”

“What?” Startled, William slammed on the brakes. The sudden stop sent everyone lurching forward, then snapping violently back against their seatbelts.

“A corpse? What are you talking about!”

“Hey, Seed! Drive properly!” Ian rubbed his forehead where he’d nearly smacked the window. He continued his explanation, unfazed. “They say the old woman who lived there died and was left inside. That’s why Colin’s eyes lit up. A corpse accidentally discovered during an exploration! ‘What Happened in This Mansion!’—that’ll be the title, right? Where else are you going to find a real dead body? It’s a sensational topic that other channels can’t touch. It’ll be national news.”

William felt a dull headache bloom behind his eyes at Ian’s excited, breathless tone. “My god, what was the mansion owner thinking, allowing this…”

“They didn’t get permission.”

“What?”

“They didn’t get permission.”

William stared, his mouth hanging open. The whispers after meeting the supposed owner now made sickening sense. They were trespassing.

“Damn it. This isn’t right. I have to tell Colin to stop.”

As William spoke, turning the wheel to cut the car back toward the road, the thick fog suddenly dissolved. The mansion, nestled deep in the land, was revealed. The noisy car went dead quiet.

An eerie silence settled over them. They all stared, speechless, at the vast structure under the oppressive sky.

Then, Ian scowled and muttered, “What did you say? ‘Get it out’?”

“What?”

“Who said ‘Get it out’?”

The people in the back exchanged confused glances.

“No one said anything,” Camilla insisted.

She looked to Rob and James, who shook their heads. William hadn’t heard a word, either.

Ian was not convinced. He scowled deeper. “Are you kidding me? Are you trying to make a fool of me?”

“We really didn’t!”

Their voices were about to escalate when James pointed at the mansion. “I thought I saw something fluttering over there.”

They all spun to look. In the center of the mansion, faintly visible through the clinging fog, something was moving. In any other situation, they would have been shouting in excitement, telling William to drive closer. Today, sensing a strange, thick aura clinging to the air, no one spoke of rushing to film.

“Something, over there…”

“Yeah, it feels creepy.”

Their content was built on exploring abandoned places. They’d been to dozens of ruins, including older mansions and sites that had suffered catastrophic collapses. But Kno Diag held a peculiar, bone-deep gloom entirely unlike any of them.

“Do we… really have to go there?” It was James who spoke, his voice thin and shaky from the back seat.

Even Ian looked surprised. James was the biggest of them, a former professional athlete. He was more fat than muscle now, but his strength was still formidable, and any task requiring brute force was his. His courage was as big as his frame; he would walk into places Colin hesitated to approach, shrugging off ghost stories. Seeing him falter, their own doubt intensified.

“Still, if we finish filming today, it won’t derail next week’s schedule,” Camilla said, her voice cautious and strained. As Colin’s girlfriend, she managed the schedule. If they didn’t finish today, she’d be the one facing the fallout.

At that moment, Ian, who had been staring blankly, flinched violently and exploded. “Stop it, damn it!”

Everyone stared, startled by his sudden curse. He nervously dug at his ear, as if someone had whispered something noxious into it. Then he yanked open the car door.

“What the hell, you guys! You’re all in on this, aren’t you?”

He stepped out of the car and started marching toward the mansion.

“I even gave you money, and you’re playing stupid games? Hurry up and film, you bastards. If you keep this up, you won’t get paid starting this month.” He was shouting, convinced they were all ganging up to mock him.

Ian’s attitude, viewing them purely as hired help, elicited a round of collective, annoyed sighs from the three remaining in the car.

William sighed and stepped on the accelerator again. Ian might be a self-important prick, but he held the power of the purse.

This was their job, and they had bills to pay.

Reluctantly, and steeped in a profound sense of unease, they drove toward the mansion.

Up close, the mansion was far more dilapidated than they had realized.

“I thought it had only been abandoned for a few years, but there are so many collapsed parts,” Camilla observed, scanning the crumbling structure. “It might be dangerous.”

The first thing that drew their eye was the flag hanging from a window on the second floor. It must have been white once, but wind and rain had shredded and dirtied it to a sickly gray.

“The corpse must be there,” Ian whispered.

Everyone swallowed, a dry rasp in their throats.

The mansion felt stranger the closer they got. William pulled out his phone. No signal. The area was marked as completely unavailable. Contacting Colin was impossible. Still, he sent a desperate text:

📱 [Do we really have to film here? It doesn’t feel right.]

The message hung there, showing only “Sending.”

“What are you doing? William. Not filming,” Ian snapped, glaring. With Colin gone, Ian had immediately appointed himself leader.

William didn’t argue. He just signaled the others: Let’s finish quickly and leave

. The team understood the silent communication. As if there were no other choice, they began unpacking the gear.

The established filming protocol was routine: Colin’s drive-in narration, then a drone flight for an aerial survey, followed by an exterior walk-around.

Then they’d film the entry, get inside, and conduct a quick sweep of the internal structure. Despite their reluctance, they worked fast. It was better to film and escape.

But problems started immediately. The fog was now so thick the drone couldn’t capture a thing. It even crashed into the mansion wall once. Without the drone, they couldn’t check for safe entry points or structural dangers. They had to go in blind.

The ground-floor windows were too high to breach even with a ladder so they headed for the main door.

“It’s locked from the inside,” James reported, shaking the knob. He waved the others back, then kicked the door with all his might.

BANG!

The lock held, but the force tore the hinges away from the wall, and the heavy door was ripped off its frame.

“Go in,” Ian commanded, nodding his chin toward the gap.

James clicked his tongue and stepped into the darkness first.

They were all waiting for James to give the all-clear, but Ian suddenly darted inside.

“Ian? What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? He told us to come in.” Ian glanced back at the three of them as if they were deaf. Then he vanished into the gloom.

The remaining three stared at one another.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.” If James had spoken, they would have heard his booming voice. As they hesitated, Ian’s angry shout echoed from the depths of the manor.

“What are you doing! Get in here! Let’s hurry up and film, then leave!”

The three grabbed the remaining equipment and stepped inside. The entrance hall was cavernous, with a high ceiling that culminated in a broken, half-collapsed glass dome.

There was no more time for hesitation. William, who had been filming their entry, put down that camera and pulled out another. The others followed suit, rapidly unpacking their gear to survey the immediate surroundings.

“Doesn’t it smell strange?” James stopped abruptly, his movement toward the stairs freezing.

Ian frowned. “Isn’t it the smell of a corpse? They said it was on the second floor.”

Camilla and Rob clamped their hands over their mouths. The musty air tasted like rot, and the sudden fear that it was the stench of death was palpable.

“It’s been years, so it’s not fresh death,” James murmured. He sniffed the air again, then backed away from the stairs.

“More importantly, this… it smells like moss…”

He kept searching for the source until he suddenly lay down flat on the grimy floor. “It seems to be coming from underneath.”

“Is there something in the basement?”

William tapped the floor with his shoe. Instead of a solid, flat sound, a hollow echo returned. It was the sound of a large void beneath the floorboards.

Would a basement echo like that? Is the entrance floor supposed to be this hollow?

William’s uneasiness spiked, and he was seconds away from shouting at them to move the equipment outside when—

“What is this?” Camilla pointed toward the corner of the entrance, where the floor met the wall.

Everyone crowded closer.

“Is it a drawing?”

“It looks like writing too?”

They were primitive forms, not quite letters, and unknown symbols extended from the damp wall down to the floor.

“It’s… creepy.” Camilla took a step back.

Even Rob, who had been silent up to this point, slowly retreated. “We should wait and examine it together when Colin arrives.”

William didn’t need to be told twice. He killed the camera and shoved everything back into the bag. Every one of them felt the same instinctive cry: They needed to leave this mansion now.

“You’re kidding.” Amidst their hesitant retreat, Ian alone stepped forward. He walked right up to the drawing, lowered his trousers, and began to urinate.

William roared, “Ian! Stop!”

Ian just chuckled, shaking his waist. A stream poured onto the dark red writing. William and the other three violently turned their heads away.

That crazy bastard. The four of them thought the same thing, a silent consensus of disgust. They were already criminals for trespassing, and now he was actively vandalizing the property. At least the camera was off.

“Look, it’s washing off,” Ian said, pulling up his pants. He tapped the spot with his foot. Just as he claimed, the writing had become faint, dissolving the moment it was touched by the liquid.

The instant they registered the fading symbols, an instinctual cry—stronger than any mere feeling—screamed in their minds: Get out. Run away from here!

“Immediately—!” Just as William was about to shout the command to flee, the floor gave way.

BANG!

With a deafening roar, the entryway floor collapsed. They plummeted without a scream, the fall from the first floor to the basement feeling like an eternity, a drop into an abyss.

The moment their bodies slammed into the hard ground:

“Gasp!” A low, guttural voice, belonging to none of them, seemed to penetrate their minds alongside the sickening thud. “Finally.”

The four of them had no time to process the voice or its terrifying implication. The sudden fall and the massive roar of the collapsing structure echoed violently through the manor.

For a moment, William couldn’t grasp what had happened. All he could focus on, even as he was falling, was the camera bag he always guarded. The problem was, the corner of that cherished bag had slammed into his lower back.

“Ugh…” William groaned, face-down in the dirt. Beside him, Rob was curled into a ball, screaming.

Above them, the rest of the first-floor ceiling continued to cave in. Thick, choking dust obscured their vision. With every desperate gasp, fine, ancient-smelling sand filled their lungs.

It felt like being buried alive.

Drip, drip.

The catastrophic collapse, which had sounded like the world was ending, slowly subsided. The rain of falling stones stopped, and a chorus of coughs and groans rose from the darkness.

“Is everyone okay?” Camilla was the first to scramble to her feet, checking on her colleagues.

Rob, next to her, quickly followed, brushing the dust from his hair. “Shit…”

At their shouts, Ian slowly got up a short distance away. He looked momentarily dazed, trying to process the impossible, before staggering fully to his feet.

Seeing three of them mobile, William felt a spark of relief. At least three weren’t seriously injured. One of them could climb out, report the situation, and call for help.

“William!” Camilla rushed over the second she saw him lying there. “Oh my god! What do we do? Please get up…”

“Ah! Stop!”

Camilla reached for him, but William recoiled with a sharp, pain-filled cry.

“Goddammit. My back and neck are shot,” he gritted out. “Moving even an inch is agonizing.”

“Then what should I do!” Camilla, usually the most composed of them, was tearful and flustered. Rob, the youngest, was near tears and uselessly fumbling.

While the two of them hovered over the injured William, Ian stared at the debris, pulled out his mobile phone, and tried to dial out. After several frustrated attempts confirmed the total lack of signal, he simply hurled the phone away.

The screen of the latest model cracked with a pathetic sound.

Stupid bastard, what a temper.

William watched his impulsive, useless fury. The phone could still be used for light, but Ian’s rage trumped logic.

Still, Ian was thankfully mobile. William looked for the only person remaining.

“James? Where is James?”

The others finally started searching.

“James!”

“Where is he!”

Fear spiked in their pale faces, a vision of him completely buried under the debris. Then, his voice drifted from a dark corner.

“H-here…”

Rob rushed toward the sound, but the moment he stepped onto a pile of rubble, a loud groan ripped through the air.

“Rob! Get down!” Camilla yanked him back.

Beyond the debris, they could hear James’s labored breathing. Finally, circling the pile, they found him: one arm was trapped.

“James!”

“Don’t make a fuss. Only the arm is trapped. Luckily, it’s still attached, and my fingers move. So, as long as no one climbs on top, I’ll be fine.”

His cool demeanor, despite his predicament, brought a visible wave of relief to Camilla and Rob.

Lying on the floor, William heard the exchange and finally felt his muscles relax. At least they were all alive.

“Damn it, am I the most injured one?” William forced his voice to sound deliberately bright.

James’s reply came from beyond the rubble. “Are you complaining? Wait. Once my arm is free, I’ll carry you up like a princess.”

“That’s very reassuring!” William shouted back. He slowly, painstakingly, rolled onto his back, trying to keep his neck and spine perfectly straight. Despite his caution, the pain was immense, almost enough to make him black out.

But everyone was alive. Not critically injured. Their future plans might be a mess, but he was grateful it hadn’t been worse.

“Rob! Ian! Try to find a way up for now! We need to get out as quickly as possible and meet Colin to request rescue!” Since they hadn’t surveyed the mansion, he didn’t know the layout, but being underground, there had to be stairs. “Turn on your mobile phone flashlights and search the surroundings! Mine’s in my pocket.”

Camilla, kneeling beside him, quickly retrieved his phone, switched on the flashlight, and began to scan the space.

Much of the dust had settled, revealing the unsettling truth of their surroundings. He had expected a basement with several storage rooms, like any other old mansion…

“Here… what is this?” Camilla’s voice was thin with terror as she looked around.

The phone light seemed to die the moment it hit the walls. All that was visible was darkness.

“Shit, what is this? Why can’t I even see the walls?”

Ian, brushing dust from his expensive clothes, spat a curse. Even his voice trembled slightly. Ian, too, sensed the horrifying wrongness of the situation. He reached for his thrown phone, but realizing it was dead, he snatched the one from Camilla and began pacing.

After a few steps, a wall finally appeared. But no one rejoiced. Why could a wall this close not be seen from just a few feet away?

Silence fell. Camilla and Rob huddled together, refusing to leave William’s side. Only Ian, muttering constant curses, felt his way along the wall.

William thought that Ian’s stubbornness might, for once, be useful. He waited for Ian to find the stairs, or for Colin to arrive.

But Colin didn’t appear, and Ian didn’t find the stairs.

“You can’t even find one staircase?” William shouted in frustration.

“What do you want me to do when I can’t see it!” Ian roared back, just as frustrated.

William turned to Camilla and Rob, who were only trembling. “You two, hurry up and search too. Quite some time has passed. It will be even harder when it gets dark.”

The two reluctantly got up. This was already a nightmarish space. The thought of true darkness descending filled them with dread.

The three of them held their phones, feeling along the surrounding walls. Rob’s voice, now a terrified whimper, broke the silence.

“There are no stairs.”

“……What?”

“There are no stairs going up. There’s no door either. It’s all walls here.”

William struggled, his head straining to look up. A basement with no stairs to go up. Stairs were necessary for basic movement. If there were no stairs…

This was a place one was not meant to descend into. Or perhaps, a place one was not supposed to come down to.

Panicked, Camilla sat down and wept. Rob whimpered. Even Ian returned to the center and slumped down. A fear they had never experienced before pressed down on everyone trapped on the cold floor.

“Let’s wait a little longer. Colin will be here soon.” William cursed Colin under his breath. What essential point could they be discussing with the broadcasting station that took this long?

“You three, at least try to move the debris pressing down on James’s arm. We can’t just lie here like this.” Unlike William, James was only confined by the weight. If freed, he would be a massive help.

Deciding movement was better than paralysis, the three silently started clearing the rubble pinning James’s arm. Thump, thump. The sound of stones being thrown vanished instantly into the absolute darkness.

William’s anxiety grew in the blackness that consumed all light. Somehow… It feels closer. He blinked, trying to focus on the boundary between their small pool of light and the surrounding void. At first, the darkness had felt ten steps away. Now, it was five steps closer.

William bit his lip. It’s the pain. I’m hallucinating. He shook his head, but with every blink, the darkness seemed to creep toward them.

“Wh-what? It’s bleeding!” Rob, clearing the rubble, shouted in alarm.

“Oh my god, James! Are you okay?” Camilla’s eyes widened, looking down at the floor. James had said he was fine, but had he been hurt after all? A dark stain was spreading out from under the debris.

“Blood?” William knew that much blood couldn’t be from a minor scrape. Enduring the agony, William moved, turning his body toward the spreading stain. A dark red flood was pooling out from under the collapsed stone.

“Oh, Lord…” He wasn’t religious, but the name slipped out.

Just then, he saw the darkness approach the debris. Snap out of it. I’m seeing things. The pain is causing visual problems. He shook his head again, but the darkness seemed to writhe, approaching the rubble more clearly. It reached the small pool of blood.

—Blood.

A low voice echoed again. It wasn’t just William; Ian, Camilla, and Rob looked around with terrified faces.

“…Who just spoke?” Even James mumbled, as if he had heard it.

No one spoke. The voice was unfamiliar. As everyone held their breath, William watched the pooled blood disappear. The puddle shrank as if someone was drinking it. The blood-soaked floor was instantly dry.

Even if the blood had flowed away, this was impossible.

Then.

CRUNCH!

The sound of something large being grabbed and chewed ripped through the air.

“Aaaaaaaah!” James’s scream echoed through the basement.

“My arm! My arm!” James’s body, moments ago pinned by the debris, now rolled, thrashing wildly. His body was missing an arm.

William and the others stared in stunned silence at the horror unfolding. James’s severed shoulder was visible. The cut surface was raw and ragged, looking less like a wound and more like something had simply bitten it clean off.

Delayed fear slammed into them at the surreal sight.

“Kyaaaaaaaah!”

“Ugh! James!” Camilla and Rob screamed, stumbling backward. Ian froze, unable to utter a sound.

As James thrashed, blood sprayed onto the floor. But the stains vanished instantly. The floor seemed to swallow his blood.

—It tastes disgusting.

The voice was heard again. William knew, instinctively, what the entity found disgusting: the arm and blood it had just torn off and consumed. The darkness seemed dissatisfied.

Just then.

“What happened here! Is everyone okay? My god, did the floor collapse?” Colin’s voice echoed from above. He had arrived.

“Colin! Colin! Get us out quickly!” Camilla, ecstatic, raised her hands. The others did the same. Hope had finally appeared.

“Colin, save us!”

“Ladder! No, anything, a rope is fine! Get us out of here!”

Amidst the panicked pleas, William, desperately trying to maintain some clarity, shouted, “Colin! Hurry back to the road and report it! You can’t get all of us out alone! Call the police! Or go to a nearby village and ask for help!”

Colin was greedy, but he was also their smartest, most capable leader. He would surely grasp the gravity of the situation. William expected him to say, “Okay, wait a moment.” Instead, his reply was entirely unexpected.

“Damn it, why isn’t anyone answering? Why is it so dark? I can’t see anything!”

“…Colin?”

No answer? Can’t see? They were screaming right below him!

“Hey, can you hear me? Someone answer!” Colin’s shout was loud, bordering on panicked.

Damn it! With that curse, Colin’s voice disappeared, but Camilla, Rob, and Ian only screamed for him louder.

A moment later, a rope was lowered from the edge of the collapse. Realizing his mistake, William shouted with all his strength.

“No! Don’t come down! Just report it! Turn around and leave right now!”

The other three scrambled toward the rope. It ended far above their heads, swaying just out of reach, no matter how high they jumped. Colin was peering down from above. If he had eyes, he would see his teammates leaping for the rope, but he simply frowned and muttered, “This should be enough.”

William understood. The space they were seeing was completely different from what Colin was seeing.

William turned his head. James’s huge body was convulsing, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Something… something… ate… my arm…” The shock and blood loss had clearly shattered his mind.

The rope swayed, and Colin’s figure was visible, descending. Then the voice came again.

—New meat is coming down.

It was clearer and louder than before, sounding like it was whispering right next to him.

—Stay still. I need to fill my stomach.

At the commanding voice, William’s mouth, which had opened to shout a warning, snapped shut.

I must obey. That was the only thought in his mind. He had to obey the command of the voice’s owner. In front of this entity, he was merely a lowly, weak morsel. He must not disturb its satisfying meal.

William watched Colin descend, unable to blink.

Midway down, Colin seemed to realize something was terribly wrong and began to scramble back up the rope. Ian, who had been jumping for the rope, screamed.

“Don’t go! Save me! If you leave me here, I won’t let you off! Hurry and take me up! It’s because of you I’m here! Save me! I’ll give you as much money as you want once we get out! Please!” Even the arrogant heir, who feared nothing in the world, was reduced to a pathetic, whimpering human in the face of this terror.

“Ian?” Colin stopped his ascent, muttering the name. It was as if he had only just heard Ian’s voice, having heard nothing until that moment.

William forced his gaze away. Resistance was futile. Everyone… would be swallowed by this darkness.

Veins bulged on Colin’s forearm. Hanging on a rope without skill was exhausting, even for someone fit. His arm began to cramp. Yet Ian only screamed for him to pull him up, not to climb to safety.

The darkness moved. It reached out and pulled the rope Colin was hanging from.

CRACKLE!

With the sound of something collapsing from above, Colin and the rope fell into the darkness. He was instantly dragged away without a scream.

“Help me! Help…!” A voice thick with belated terror echoed from beyond the darkness. That was all.

CRUNCH! The sound of tearing flesh and crushing something hard.

CRUNCH. Bones shattering, something wet splattering. No one could see it, but they knew exactly what was happening. A savage meal was taking place.

The sounds of slurping and gluttony continued. Now, no one in the basement dared to even breathe. They knew they were next. The eating sounds finally stopped, the prepared food having run out.

GRRRRR. A vibration traveled through the floor, indicating the entity’s profound satisfaction.

—I’m done eating.

The voice echoing in William’s head sounded chillingly familiar now. It sounded like Colin’s voice.

—I want to eat more.

Pure desire dripped from the words.

The darkness moved again. It grabbed Ian’s ankle and pulled.

“No! No! Save me! Aaaaaaah!” Ian flailed and vanished. That was the last thing William saw before losing consciousness.

He had no doubt that it would be the final memory of his life.

“You’re awake?”

When he opened his eyes, Ian, who had vanished into the darkness, was standing before him. He asked as if nothing had happened.

“William, how do we get out of here?”

Jina ran a tired hand over her face. Listening to William’s frantic words, only one thought solidified: This is what a calm descent into madness looks like.

She had been called, but this was a waste of time. Jina began to gather her things to leave.

“You didn’t call me here expecting me to believe that, did you? Why don’t you talk to Inspector Haywood instead? He seemed like he would listen well to what Mr. Evans had to say.”

She recalled the inspector’s face, the one who insisted that only people had disappeared from the mansion. If he were here now, William and the inspector would have had a very satisfying conversation, indeed.

“No. I can’t trust the police. They won’t believe me either.”

“Honestly, I don’t believe it either.”

“No, you’re different.”

William shook his head hard, a resolute action that stalled Jina’s attempt to leave. She’d been ready to shift her weight and stand, but his certainty pulled her back down.

“How many people do you think I’ve told this to? From the minute the police came down into that basement, I’ve told everyone. Every single person. Do you know what their reaction was every time?”

“Weren’t they similar to mine?”

Jina pressed a thumb and forefinger to her brow.

Poor bastard. The shock of losing a friend had clearly twisted his wires.

“They were different. They… didn’t listen to me.”

“I didn’t listen……”

“No. Even if you thought I was talking shit—going mad and spouting nonsense—you listened. But the others…!”

The sedative pumping through his veins did nothing to stop the panic. William’s breathing hitched and grew ragged again.

“They didn’t listen at all. Couldn’t hear me, is what’s more accurate. They just averted their gaze, as if I were silent. No matter how loud I shouted, they wouldn’t meet my eyes. You’re the only one who’s heard my story all the way through. I didn’t expect much, honestly. What I wanted to ask you when we met was something else entirely.”

William’s eyes, full of pleading, locked onto Jina.

“There will still be cameras down there that the police couldn’t recover. What I saw will be recorded on them. Can you bring them to me?”

When James confirmed the ominous sound by tapping the floor, William had killed the machine and tried to move. He thought he’d shut everything down, but one thing remained: the small body cam he’d clipped to his chest. It recorded everything—from the moment he fell until after.

He realized it when the paramedics hauled Ian up and strapped him onto a stretcher. The hazy curtain lifted from William’s consciousness, clearing just enough to recall his last memory. He’d opened his eyes, and the first thing he’d seen was Ian, standing and staring right at him.

He’d given the obvious answer to Ian’s question: they needed to call 999 to get outside help. After that, his memory blurred. But he’d felt it—whatever had done this to him was moving away.

Later, when the police announced all five had been rescued, he’d asked for the names. A kind paramedic gave them: William, Camilla, Rob, and Ian. James, they said, had passed away.

Colin wasn’t on the list. William distinctly remembered Colin being dragged into the darkness, yet everyone insisted he hadn’t been there. They looked at him, their eyes full of suspicion that he was simply delirious.

Struggling to get up, his hand found the body cam on his chest. It was meant for an immersive video and had barely an hour of battery. But Colin’s initial descent would be on it. And the darkness that had swallowed him and Ian.

This was it. Proof. If he showed them this, they’d know he was telling the truth. He fumbled blindly at his chest, peeling the memory card free. Just as he was about to hand it over, the stretcher jolted, then violently lifted.

〈Ack!〉

The sharp spike of pain stole his grip. The memory card tumbled from his fingers and hit the ground. He’d thought nothing of it then. He could just ask someone to get it.

But no one listened to him. Not during the transport, not at the hospital in Edinburgh, and not after he arrived in London.

What truly drove William mad wasn’t the police, but the utter betrayal of the teammates who’d been right there with him.

“What do you mean Colin was there? He never even came down, did he?” Camilla, Colin’s own girlfriend, shivered, whispering that she never knew he was ‘that kind of man.’

“Colin didn’t come down. He abandoned us. Rescue call? We got lucky, a signal suddenly connected. Don’t remember who made it. Look, I’m quitting, anyway. Colin’s gone…” Rob mumbled, refusing to meet William’s eyes. And then there was Ian.

“Mr. Ian Aylesford does not wish to meet you.”

He tried to contact Ian, but it was Ian’s lawyers who responded. That was the better scenario. He couldn’t even contact James, who had passed away.

Meanwhile, the police returned the belongings found at the scene. William frantically tore through the list and the items, but the memory card he’d dropped was nowhere to be found.

“Is this all of it?”

“Yes, but is there anything else you’re looking for?”

The officer’s question was quiet, but William felt the weight of her gaze.

She watched him—quiet, cautious, like a predator assessing its prey. William, the words about the memory card right on his tongue, snapped his mouth shut.

Not long after he was transferred to London, Camilla came to visit.

“Camilla, Colin did come down. You were crying and screaming for them to rescue him, too!”

“William. Don’t talk about Colin in front of me again. He’s just a coward.” Camilla’s reply was cold, final—she truly believed her lover had abandoned her.

“I can prove it. I have proof that Colin was there!”

“What is it?”

“That’s…”

He could have told her the card was still underground, begged her to get it. But he went silent, staring into her eyes. A cold wave of paranoia washed over him. He felt it—the same dark, oppressive energy he’d sensed in the basement, now radiating from Camilla’s gaze.

William vaguely changed the subject. But during their conversation, Camilla tried several times to find out what item he was looking for. All the while, she kept praising Ian.

“He’s completely changed since the accident. Honestly, before this, he treated everyone like his personal staff. But now? He apologizes first, and he’s become incredibly gentle. Polite, even. I ran into him by chance after visiting the police, and if he hadn’t spoken to me first, I wouldn’t have recognized him.”

Camilla had always admired Ian’s wealth, but this level of praise was new. Disturbing.

After Camilla left, he contacted Rob. Rob didn’t seem happy to receive William’s call, but he didn’t hang up either.

The air of the conversation shifted when Ian’s name came up. Rob—who’d been speaking with the indifferent, annoyed drone of most youngsters—lit up the second Ian was mentioned.

“I met Ian yesterday. I met his lawyer too, and they said it was partly their fault in this incident and that they would do their best to fulfill any compensation I wanted. So, I jokingly asked if I could get a job at an Aylesford subsidiary, and they agreed. Thanks to that, my parents are proud of me these days.”

William couldn’t tell the excited Rob about the last image he remembered of Ian.

And this morning, Ian, who had been avoiding his calls, contacted him.

“I heard from Camilla. You have proof that Colin was there.”

Ian’s call should have been a relief. William didn’t want compensation; he wanted the memory card. Ian could get it with a single order to his staff—it would be nothing for him.

“Ah, that…”

But the words caught in his throat. He saw it again: Ian’s helpless form, dragged into the darkness after Colin.

Colin was dragged into the darkness and vanished.

Ian was dragged into the darkness, but returned.

Camilla, Rob, Ian himself—they all insisted he was changed. William felt it now. The voice on the phone was completely foreign to the Ian he’d known.

“…I think I was mistaken about something.”

“Mistaken?”

“It must have been the shock of Colin leaving us. It’s not as much as Camilla, but I was with Colin for a long time. Besides, right before we went down, he was excited, talking about the broadcasting station and how only good things were left to come…”

After listening to William for a while, Ian suddenly asked.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The last thing?”

“Before the police arrived, the last thing you remember.”

“Uh, that…”

William chose a suitable answer.

“I remember you asking me how we were going to get out. But after that, my memory is hazy. I was in so much pain then, I wasn’t myself…”

“Yes, I understand.”

He thought the call would go on longer, but Ian cut him off.

“See you soon.”

“Ian? Ian!” he called out urgently, but only the flat dial tone was left.

An unsettling sense of unease clung to him all day. Then Jina Troll arrived. Unlike all the others, she listened to his story to the end. He didn’t care that she didn’t seem to believe it was all true; he was grateful for the simple act of being heard. And she was the owner of the goddamn mansion.

“Since it’s your mansion, you’ll have to visit again. Please, just look for anything I might have lost. If you need to hire someone to search the place, I will pay for it all. Even if you find the memory card.”

Jina gave William a wry, tired smile. Visit Kno Diarg Mansion again? Never. But the police had already informed her she had no choice.

“If I go, I’ll look. I can’t promise a specific schedule, though.”

Jina replied and stood up.

“I need to go get treated for my injuries too. I’ll be going now.”

“Thank you just for coming. But… did you happen to meet Ian?”

She had. Just hours ago. He’d even helped her. “I did meet him.”

“What did you think of him? You know how vulgar he was. The day he met you, he kept talking about your chest. What’s the point of going to a good school? He was a fool with no intelligence to pretend to be refined. But how did he suddenly…”

Even Jina, who’d only met Ian once, had to agree. He wasn’t just maturing; it was a fundamental shift. He truly seemed like a different person wearing the same skin.

Jina was about to comment on Ian, but glanced at her watch. Time to go. After a final, formal exchange, she left the room. The nurse had told her to report to the office counter in the middle of the corridor, so Jina pushed the door open and started down the hall.

“You were here.”

Someone blocked Jina’s path.

Jina slowly raised her head. Just as she had seen him at dawn, Ian was smiling and looking at her.

“Mr. Aylesford…?”

“Call me Ian.”

His casual familiarity made Jina instinctively take a step back. Less than a day had passed since the hotel. Seeing him again, the memory of that dawn flooded her, and a tremor ran through her body.

Her mind insisted she was fine, that it was over, but her body remembered the helpless terror.

“Are you here to see William Evans?”

Jina shrugged and replied to the question.

“The police asked me for a statement as a witness.”

“There are no police here.”

“That can’t be, Inspector Haywood said he’d be waiting outside…?”

Startled, Jina tried to hurry past him to go downstairs, but Ian took a step to the side, blocking her path.

“……?”

Jina stared up at him. He must be visiting William, but why block her? Then she remembered his help last night and slightly dropped her head.

“Speaking of which, thank you.”

“For what?”

“Uh… for kicking that crazy guy—Jeremy, or whatever—at the hotel.”

“Ah.”

Ian made a face, as if the memory was only just resurfacing. It was strange. As if he had completely forgotten the entire event until her mention.

If he wasn’t seeking thanks, his reason for blocking her was suspect.

“More importantly, what did you talk about with William?”

“…….”

He asked the next question as if the entire hotel incident was irrelevant.

He doesn’t want to talk about being at the hotel. If so, his current attitude made sense. Why admit to being at a party full of drugs and illegal activities? Inspector Haywood knew, yet she hadn’t said anything either. It was partly due to the promise she’d made the general manager, but even if it were known, she’d undoubtedly be viewed with suspicion.

“We didn’t talk much. Just that the police needed a statement…”

Jina tried to shift the subject. Ian’s lips curved into a cold, predatory smile.

“Liar.” His voice was low and devoid of patience. “What. Did. He. Say?”

Suddenly, her lips parted—an automatic, horrifying betrayal. Before a thought could form, her tongue, drawn by an unknown, impossible force, threatened to move.

Don’t answer anything.

A desperate, primal voice shrieked from deep within her. It was familiar, a clear memory from a lifetime ago, and a voice she instinctively knew she could trust.

Don’t speak. Don’t say anything.

Jina chanted the words to herself like a mantra. Her parted lips snapped shut, and she bit down hard on her lower lip. A stubborn, fierce resolve settled in her jaw: she would not open her mouth again.

“Jina Troll.”

The instant her name left his lips, she felt a violent pull, and the world tilted. It was like being seized and thrown. The quiet hospital corridor was a kaleidoscope of chaotic shaking. Her vision darkened—the dry winter sunlight flooding the window moments before was instantly consumed by night. Space and time warped in her mind.

“You have to answer.”

In the chaos, only Ian’s voice could be heard. An absolute command that she, who was nothing, had to obey.

The voice became a form and shook Jina. In that chaos, Jina gripped her bag tightly and braced her legs to avoid falling.

Seeing her struggle to hold on, Ian reached out. The moment his hand neared her neck, a raw, primal instinct took over. Jina swung her bag, striking his hand away.

“……!”

For the first time, Ian actually recoiled, a flicker of surprise on his face. The dizziness vanished as instantly as it had arrived. The corridor, which had been churning and shifting, was normal. The world outside the window was the same.

Jina was relieved, but confused. Had she dreamed it? Cold sweat trickled down her spine. Her body was drenched, as if she’d run a marathon. She sucked in a rattling breath as Ian asked again.

“That bag. What’s inside?”

The question held none of the strange, compelling force of the one before. Jina opened her mouth. “Nothing much…? My wallet?”

She usually carried few things. Her laptop was at home. Her bag held only her wallet with her transit card and driver’s license, lip balm, and hand cream—just miscellaneous items.

But Ian, as if her bag were a hammer engulfed in flames, rubbed the hand he had bumped and showed a look of aversion.

“Anyway, I’m leaving. Whether you accept it or not, thank you!”

Jina didn’t wait. She deliberately brushed past him, her bag clutched tight under her arm. He didn’t try to stop her. He simply watched her go, a strange, amused expression playing on his face.

The nurse had promised someone would be waiting at the central office counter, but the corridor was empty. Not just the counter—the entire floor was unnervingly silent. As if William was the only patient left.

Jina finally made it down to the first floor alone. Fortunately, the nurse who had guided her was standing there.

“You were here. Is William Evans’ visit over?”

“Yes? Ah… it was.” The nurse replied slowly, her head tilted slightly.

“But why did I come down to the first floor in the first place? Thank you for letting me know, anyway.”

A second nurse, approaching from the opposite direction, spotted Jina and hurried over.

“Inspector Haywood had an urgent matter come up. He asked me to tell you he sends his apologies.”

“Is that so?”

She recalled his drawn, tired face, the way he’d gulped coffee like water. Busy was an understatement.

She pulled out her mobile phone. A text from him had already arrived. Urgent call from the station, leaving now. Sorry about today, I owe you a coffee.

Stuffing the phone back in her pocket, Jina hunched her shoulders and started toward the bus stop. Then, William’s earnest plea made her turn her head.

That had to be the room. When she’d been inside, the view had been clear, but now the blinds were drawn tight. Jina stared at the opaque window, which hid the interior completely, before finally turning to leave.

She just wanted to get back to a world governed by common sense.

Andy peered into the office. With Christmas bearing down, the Metropolitan Police Department was quieter than a graveyard.

He pushed the door open soundlessly and tiptoed toward his desk, striving for maximum invisibility. The moment he slumped into his chair and leaned back, hoping to disappear beneath the cubicle walls, a voice cut through the silence.

“Andy.”

He winced, turning slowly as if caught with his hand in the till. His superior stood behind him, arms crossed.

“Superintendent Howard.”

Susan Howard. Andy’s direct boss, and his chief source of blistering reprimands. Yet, she was also the one person he truly respected. She was the only reason he, a walking catastrophe of rule-breaking, was still employed, having defended him repeatedly from the pressure coming from above.

“Where have you been?”

“The Scotland case, you know? The one where the mansion floor collapsed and Aylesford’s boy got hurt? I was assigned to—”

“Inspector Haywood.”

The use of his full title, cold and formal, made Andy drop his gaze.

Would I ever fear anything more than her voice? Maybe a tooth extraction without local anesthesia.

“Do you think that’s what I’m asking?”

“Then what…”

“Don’t play the idiot, Andy. You think I don’t know who your informants are, or that they’re currently pulling out of a particular operation?”

Busted. His mouth felt like sandpaper. He swallowed hard.

“No, look, there was a seriously big drug deal… You know I’ve been tracking the bodies since New Year’s last year. That party gets bigger every time. This year, I wanted to get a solid lead and—”

“Andy.”

The name was a warning now, though tinged with a familiar, weary softness.

“I’m telling you this for your own safety. We had a call about Carrington’s son covered in blood early this morning. It caused a massive stir. They were demanding an immediate arrest until they realized Aylesford was involved. Either way, the Carrington side is on a hair trigger right now. Don’t go provoking them when they’re already agitated.”

“Are they ever not agitated?”

“……Andy.”

“I know. I know you’re worried. Why else would you be back in London when you should be down in Winchester with your family?”

He knew his boss. She’d gone home two days ago, but the news at dawn had dragged her straight back to the city. He also knew she’d already taken steps to ensure his involvement didn’t reach the Carrington family.

“Promise me. You’ll share all information with me, and you won’t act alone without my permission.”

“What if I can’t promise that?”

“Disciplinary action.”

“Isn’t it an abuse of power to just impose disciplinary action whenever you feel like it?”

Superintendent Howard crossed her arms tighter. “I can pick any complaint filed against you and it’s grounds for disciplinary action. Do you know that? The unauthorized document signing is the biggest issue.”

“…….”

Andy shut up. She had a point. He had done a lot of things.

“Anyway, since I’ve found you, I’ll be going back.”

“……I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“If you know that, then be careful.”

She grumbled, but patted his shoulder with surprising kindness before leaving the office with a crisp, “Merry Christmas.”

In the quiet office, Andy leaned back. The office was quiet again. Andy leaned back, his head swimming from days of near-sleepless work. He pushed the chair back, tilting it so far he expected the backrest to hit the floor, and pulled out his phone.

“No reply from Ms. Jina Troll……”

He hadn’t expected one. He could still see the wide-eyed, crazy-check look she’d given him after hearing his story.

But she seems to have some connection with Ian Aylesford.

When he’d mentioned the name, her composure had cracked. Her expression was a complex mess, not simple disgust, but definitely fear.

His other phone—the one for his runners—vibrated.

“Yes. They’ve all pulled out? And the Superintendent knows, so where exactly did we get made? We’ll be more careful next time. Uh-huh, uh-huh… What?”

Andy straightened instantly.

“A woman disappeared?”

“Yes, I understand. She might still be inside. Keep watching. Send me a photo.”

He hung up and immediately received a message. It was a picture of a woman stepping out of a black cab. Her face was unremarkable except for a small, noticeable star-shaped piercing on her cheek. She was one of the women who’d been at the hotel yesterday.

This annual party had run for years. It had plenty of dead bodies from overdoses, but never a missing person. Maybe she was one of the women who accepted an extra night at a comfortable hotel as compensation for servicing the guests. He hoped to God it was the latter. Andy sank back into his chair.

“Now, what else is left to do…”

With Superintendent Howard’s explicit warning, he’d have to tread carefully around the young masters for a while.

I need to meet William Evans.

He picked up the phone again and dialed the saved number. After a few rings, a voice answered—the hospital nurse in charge.

“This is Inspector Andy Haywood.”

“……Ah, Inspector.”

The voice was weak, as if she’d just woken up. This was the same woman who’d sternly chastised him for kicking a patient.

“Has Ms. Jina Troll left?”

“Yes. She left a while ago.”

“Anything else happen? Any other visitors, perhaps…”

“No.”

The answer was immediate, devoid of the earlier haze. As if she’d been coached.

“I understand. I’ll see you next time.”

The short call ended. Andy lay back down, feeling the heavy pull of exhaustion. He’d considered going back today, but his body refused to cooperate. Besides, the welcome wouldn’t be warm. William Evans clearly distrusted the police. It would be smarter to let things stabilize before forcing a meeting.

Andy closed his eyes. Beyond the office door, the tacky ornaments on the Christmas tree flickered in the fluorescent light. Faint, tinny carols drifted through the air. He hummed the tune for a while before sleep claimed him.

Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright.

His flickering consciousness cut off even the final lines. He sank into a deep, desperate sleep.

Sleep in heavenly peace…

A luxury car sliced through the evening air, leaving the city’s dense streets behind as it cut north.

It swept past Angel and Camden, climbing Haverstock Hill. The road, once lined with businesses, gave way to a perfectly manicured residential area. Wreaths hung on every door, and shop windows were ablaze with Christmas lights.

It was the most special season of the year, marked by the occasional pedestrian dressed in novelty red clothes or a Santa hat. The bustle would last only through tonight; tomorrow was the official holiday.

As the car drove past Swiss Cottage station, the massive Aylesford logo glowed atop the adjacent building. People streamed out of the supermarket below, arms laden with holiday groceries.

The car continued its ascent, past Hampstead Heath, the massive northern park, and looped around. On a specific side road, it finally turned.

The neighborhood instantly changed. The new houses had imposing, long walls, a far cry from the open-plan street views of minutes ago.

The driver pulled up to a set of particularly high walls. The entrance guards quickly checked the car and snapped the barrier down. It seemed like overkill security for a private residence, but this was the Aylesford estate. The security made sense.

A dense forest of trees perfectly blocked any external view, making the high walls technically unnecessary, but they emphasized the family’s impenetrable boundary.

The car continued inward, finally reaching a sprawling, massive mansion perched on a small hill.

The Aylesford family owned other homes in Chelsea and Wimbledon, but this was the Chairman’s favorite. He allowed access to only two people: himself and his only grandson.

The car stopped. The secretary—who was really the estate’s personal butler—opened the door. As Ian stepped out, the employees present instinctively stepped back and bowed their heads.

The formality was excessive for the modern era, but the Chairman demanded strict etiquette. No one complained; the salaries were too high for a little head-bowing.

As Ian walked past, the tension eased from the faces of the female staff.

“He’s been staying here a lot lately.”

“I know. Ever since… that incident, right?”

“Yes. And thank God for it. The Chairman was initially furious—looked like he wanted to kill everyone—but now that his grandson is fine and well-behaved, he comes straight back here. Grandsonly love, huh?”

“But wouldn’t you be happy? A degenerate grandson suddenly becoming diligent. We’re happy.”

“True.” A wry, tired smile passed between the employees. Ian Aylesford was a liability, a name whispered with dread in their profession.

His grandfather’s power was the only reason Ian had been kept in the Chelsea mansion instead of this one.

That house, right in the heart of a wealthy neighborhood, was the perfect stage for a wayward heir.

After years of incidents, the Chairman had deliberately filled the Chelsea house with older female employees to try and reduce the debauchery.

It had failed.

Ian just started bringing women home from outside. Waking up the drunk, sleeping women and sending them out of his bedroom was a key duty for the Chelsea staff.

But after the Scotland accident—the one where his friend died—Ian had returned a different person. Quiet. Perfectly behaved.

“You think he’ll keep staying here?”

“Looks like it. He went to the Chelsea mansion with his secretary, but came back here saying the smell was too strong. Apparently, the staff managing the Chelsea place got blamed for it.”

“It’s not just the Chelsea side. There are people here who are in trouble, too.”

“Ah, the kitchen staff.” They sighed in sympathy.

“He’s suddenly gotten so picky about his food. Put down his fork and said he couldn’t eat it. The Chairman wants to replace the lot of them. He never complained about food before, but now he’s capricious.”

Still, a picky eater was better than the human landmine he used to be. A rich, demanding young master was far easier to deal with than the wrecking ball who might do anything.

“They say they’re only working until the end of the year, then they’ll hire a whole new staff.”

“At least they’ll get their Christmas bonus first.”

The staff dispersed downstairs, chattering, as Ian entered his room. The suite, with its connecting chambers, was less a room and more a private wing of the mansion. He shrugged off his coat and faced the mirror.

His light blonde hair was impeccably combed, his deep-set eyes held dark blue irises. The heir of Aylesford was undeniably handsome. That simple fact was why the Chairman doted on him. If he’d been less attractive, it would have been easier to write him off, but a specimen this perfect—provided he kept his mouth shut—fueled the Chairman’s desperate desire to fix him.

Different expressions chased across the face in the glass. He flashed a bright smile, then a scowl. Next, he abruptly burst into tears, before his features went completely blank.

After cycling through a few more faces, he suddenly reached his hand into his own mouth. His fingers dug deep, as if rummaging in his throat, and pulled something small and metallic free. It was a star-shaped piercing.

He examined the jewelry, turning it over between his fingers, then opened a desk drawer and placed it on a small, velvet tray inside.

He must not have seen it in his haste to eat.

Ian looked like a diner who had found a fish bone in a fillet. He finally stretched out on the plush sofa.

It was a feeling of satiation he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The hunger would return soon, of course, but for now, he wanted to fully enjoy the pleasant, heavy warmth.

From the moment he’d heard about Jeremy’s party from Richard, he’d known it would be the perfect feeding ground. Plenty of women there that night would be completely unprotected.

People who would disappear without anyone looking for them. He needed exactly those kinds of individuals.

The human females came in waves. At first, they seemed to pick and choose, but soon enough, they were all mixing together. That was his cue. He moved to find something to consume—something that smelled purely of alcohol, not the revolting drug Jeremy was pushing.

In his haste, he grabbed a hand and dragged her into a private room. The woman had giggled, asking if a handsome man like him wasn’t supposed to pay her. He’d slammed the door and pulled her toward the bathtub, turning the shower on full blast.

“Is this your taste? Not bad, though.”

Those were the woman’s last words. He opened his mouth and swallowed everything.

He emerged alone a long time later. No one noticed the difference between the number of people who entered and who left. The fourteenth floor was already too far gone in its own depravity.

He closed his eyes. He was a being who did not require sleep, but he deliberately lay still for hours, eyes closed. In this human form, his actions had to mimic theirs. It was the only way to avoid suspicion of his true nature.

With his eyes shut, he thought of William Evans, whom he’d visited earlier today. He was a skinny male, but one who might not taste bad.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered the human greeting to someone far away.

At that very moment, a man launched himself from a hospital rooftop.

Police descended on the scene, tape immediately cordoning off the blood-splattered area. A hospital nurse, tears streaming, gave a statement about the horrific event that had taken place just hours before the holiday.

“Yes, the deceased is William Evans. He was a patient admitted here.”

The gloom of Christmas Eve morning broke into a heavy downpour. Jina swore under her breath and wrestled with her umbrella. Londoners rarely bothered with them, but even she, a long-time resident, had to shield herself from this brutal rain.

She walked for a few more blocks before reaching her friend’s house. She could hear the lively noise even before she reached the porch.

The door swung open a moment later. Her friend, already flushed and slightly drunk, threw her arms around Jina.

“Oh, Jina!”

Jina hugged her back and stepped inside. The atmosphere was a warm shield against the harsh weather. Her friend complained constantly about the age of the house, but to Jina, it simply felt welcoming and crowded with people.

“Here, a gift.”

“Why would you… Wait a minute. Oh, my god! How did you get something this insane?”

Her friend had been about to offer a dismissive, polite thanks, but her eyes went wide when she saw the label on the bottle Jina presented. This wasn’t cheap plonk to get casually tipsy. This was the kind of wine one posted on social media as a flex.

“It’s fine. The hotel gave it to me, and I can’t sell it. Let’s just drink the damn thing ourselves.”

At those words, her friend shot a look at the bottle, then muttered, “Still…” and ran to the others, shouting Jina had brought the magnificent wine, instantly tearing off in search of glasses.

Most of her friends were aspiring chefs, like Jina. Due to their shared trade, the moment they saw the label—even the slightly scuffed one—they knew its worth and cheered.

“Jina, we love you!”

“Marry us!”

Jina smiled, a genuine, bright smile that felt foreign after the last few days. The silly confessions made the knots in her chest loosen.

The hotel had sent the wine—a peace offering, no doubt, worried about their own reputation.

The damage to the label, ensuring it couldn’t be resold, reminded her of the general manager’s petty face.

She’d considered trying to sell it purely out of spite, but watching her friends’ reaction now, she was glad she’d brought it.

A spot was instantly made for her between the tightly packed seats, a chair roughly pulled up.

A plate of pasta, carelessly topped with tomato sauce, was pushed in front of her, and a cheese platter, contributed by another friend, was passed around.

Since they were all cooks, the food, thankfully, was well-made and comforting.

They were short on proper glassware, so the wine was poured into hastily washed mugs and passed around, but no one cared.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!”

Mugs and glasses of all shapes clinked in the center of the table, and the easy flow of conversation resumed. The warm air. The delicious scent of garlic and wine. Amiable conversation. Occasional bursts of laughter.

Jina felt a lump form in her throat, a profound sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she’d desperately needed.

As the talk drifted to a newly opened high-end restaurant, a friend who’d worked alongside her at a similar establishment years ago switched seats. She leaned in, speaking in a low voice.

“Are you doing okay?”

“So-so.”

“My close friend works at the hotel you were at.” The hesitation in her voice was clear. “So… I heard about what went down on the fourteenth floor.”

Jina’s hand froze. Her friend gestured toward the adjacent room, suggesting they needed privacy. Once they were alone, the friend set down her wine mug and took Jina’s hand.

“Are you really alright, Jina?”

“I got a little banged up, but there was nothing to worry about. They ended up fighting amongst themselves. Luckily, I managed to get away. That wine was from the hotel, too.”

“Hoo… Thank goodness.” Her friend exhaled sharply, then her lips moved again. She wasn’t finished.

“Why, is there something you’re curious about?”

“Curious about what? I don’t want to know anything more about those rich people’s crazy games. Actually… your mother contacted me. She said she couldn’t reach you and asked me to check if you were okay.”

Jina’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That woman? Contacted you?”

“Well, to be honest, we’ve been in touch for a while. She found me on social media and reached out. She told me you’d blocked her, and just asked if I could check in on you sometimes and let her know you were alive, since she didn’t want to bother me too often.”

“That must have been a huge nuisance for you.”

“Nuisance! She barely contacts me. You know, your mother was always kind to me when I was young, and I told her I was happy to do it—out of concern for you!” Her friend waved the idea away.

“But recently, she’s been contacting me a lot. Especially the day you went to Scotland, and the day the incident happened at the hotel, she even called me.”

“……”

“So I told her I was back in touch with you and everything seemed fine. Anyway… since she’s so worried, wouldn’t it hurt to unblock her and say hello? She was actually crying when she spoke to me.”

“……”

Jina didn’t reply. Sensing her distress, her friend left the room first, suggesting Jina make the call.

In the quiet room, Jina fiddled with her mobile phone. She was worried. Initially, she’d been annoyed, assuming her friend was being used as a spy, but hearing the friend say she’d been crying made her feel strange.

Come to think of it, she always sent messages before something significant happened to me. Does she really have some kind of weird sense?

Jina gave a wry smile, opened her messenger, found [Korean Woman], and unblocked her. After a moment’s hesitation, she typed a short greeting.

📱[Merry Christmas.]

Since she had called her friend crying out of worry, it seemed right to send this much. A read receipt popped up instantly.

Was she typing? While waiting for the reply, Jina’s finger twitched, and she pressed the block button again.

Coward.

Her heart hammered. Surely, the reply would have been something like, I love you, asking if she was okay and wishing her a Merry Christmas.

Jina found her immediate re-blocking ridiculous, lacking the courage to face that flood of emotion without breaking down. Jina hurried out and returned to her friends.

The conversation continued in the warm, secure air. With so many unpleasant things happening lately, even this trivial conversation felt like an immense gift.

The wine vanished quickly. Her friends, grumbling that cheap wine after good wine would ruin their palates, opened new bottles.

One after another. As the empties piled up under the table, more and more friends started sprawling out on the sofa.

When even the host finally collapsed onto the table, Jina got up. As the only one left who hadn’t drunk much, she had to clean up.

“Why are you cleaning… Leave it… I’ll… tomorrow…”

“Enough. Go to sleep.”

Jina quickly began tidying the table, gathering leftover food and washing the empty plates and glasses. As the time passed, the table was spotless.

She had enjoyed a time free from worry, and this small chore was her thanks. Thinking she should leave, Jina sat back down.

Going home meant a cold, dark room. Walking alone on the dark streets was dangerous. It seemed better to crash among her friends and head home in the morning.

She thought about lying face down, but sleep wouldn’t come. Lying there, Jina turned on her mobile phone. She had no specific goal, just aimlessly browsing, eventually landing on a news site. She looked at articles about new restaurant openings and Christmas recipes she’d missed.

Then, scrolling past the main page, she accidentally clicked the Social Affairs section and saw a small headline.

Patient Jumps to Death from Hospital Rooftop

Below it was the name of the deceased.

William Evans.

Jina shot up from her seat.

The article was brief: At midnight today, a patient at a London hospital jumped from the rooftop and died. CCTV analysis confirmed he went up alone, and there was no record of him talking to anyone.

It suggested he had acted impulsively, having recently shown signs of mental instability, blaming himself for a colleague’s death. The police were investigating whether the hospital had been grossly negligent in patient management.

A different person with the same name?

Impossible. The small thumbnail photo in the corner was unmistakably William Evans, the man Jina had met just hours ago.

Suicide?

Impossible. William, who had begged her to find the memory card, was distressed by Colin’s disappearance but full of desperate determination to uncover the truth. He had repeatedly asked her, even offering to pay for the search. There was no sign whatsoever that he intended to give up his life.

Then, Ian came to mind. He must have met William after she left. Had something in that meeting changed William’s mind?

Lost in thought for a long time, Jina turned off her phone screen and closed her eyes. It had been the most relaxed day she’d had in a long time, but her heart was heavy again. In the end, she didn’t sleep a wink and greeted the dawn.

Leaving her friend’s house, Jina walked toward her own. On the deserted street, an electronic carol drifted from a distant home.

Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright…

Jina quietly murmured the next line to herself, a desolate whisper.

May you sleep in heavenly peace…