After coming to, he slowly propped himself up, cursing this mansion's tendency to knock him out after near-death experiences.
The first thing he noticed was that he was back in the hallway.
It was now significantly different than the shrinking room he had ventured through.
For example, the paintings were gone along with the door he had opened a total of 8 times.
The wallpaper was back to normal along with the floor and lighting.
Not that the aged, creepy wallpaper was a pleasant sight to behold.
But compared to a cascade of flowing blood and black worms he found it quite pleasing to look at.
As he sat up, he noticed a small piece of paper in his hand.
Just like the ones from the hallway.
This one had a crudly drawn snake at its centre while the word MALUM bordered its exterior.
Pocketing the paper for what he hoped was the last time, he stood up and went further down the hallway.
Unlike his previous times waking up in the mansion he only needed a few seconds to recover.
He was a little depressed by the fact that he was growing used to barely surviving crazy ghost attacks.
At least this one hadn't been too physically jarring.
The hallway closing in appeared to be some kind of mental manipulation.
Or a physical one that hadn't managed to noticeably affect him before he escaped.
Thankfully when he rounded the corner he didn't find a door to open like he had before. The hallway stretched on as it was meant to.
He limped down the now unhaunted hallway, keeping an eye out for anything unusual.
To his surprise, one of the doors on the left was interactable.
Its exterior offered no clue as to what awaited inside. But the door itself had a handle, indicating it could be opened.
For his observation, he was rewarded with…
Nothing.
The door was locked.
He assumed the door was locked rather than supernaturally blocked because of the keyhole in the centre of the doorknob.
He decided to move on, but only after making a mental note of the door's position.
At least as well as he could in the nearly indistinguishable corridors.
So, he continued walking down the corridor, eventually coming to a T section.
To his right was another hallway, indistinguishable from the one he had walked from.
To the left was darkness.
More specifically, none of the lights he had painstakingly turned on were in use.
This also brought him a late realisation.
Only the initial hallway outside his 'spawn room' had wall-mounted candles the rest were lit solely by the overhead bulbs.
Deciding to test the darkness, he attempted to light his trusty oil lantern. Only to remember it was out of oil.
Since he didn't feel like stumbling around in the dark he turned right and made his way down the lit corridor.
Soon enough he found its end.
It was highlighted with a medium-sized window, fogged up like every other window in the silent mansion.
He could see nothing out of it, not even the faintest of light from the sun or moon.
Much more interesting was the door to his left, another that had a handle.
Unlike the locked door from earlier, he could enter this room easily.
Opening it revealed a familiar scene to Jacob, the study from the paintings.
It was missing the large number of occult materials that covered the room in the paintings.
But the room's general layout, desk, and other features were the same.
Jacob walked into the room, inspecting everything from the desk to the artwork.
A single desk lamp acted as the sole light source for the study.
Apart from that, the room was practically a stereotype. Complete with a desk, bookshelves, oversized leather chair, and even one of those fancy globes he had often seen in movies.
His objective was to find anything that could be a clue.
Or at least something he could use to deal with the murderous spirits that seemed so fond of him.
His investigation only had three highlights.
The first was that the globe didn't open like he'd seen in movies.
This disappointed him greatly as he would have LOVED a glass of rum, whiskey, or any form of liquid courage.
Even if he couldn't drink it he would have used it to clean his stab wound.
The second came in the form of documents strewn about the desktop.
Most of their contents were similar to the books he found in the library and on the bookshelf in this very room, illegible.
But one of the papers was written in English, which Jacob took to mean it was important enough for the supernatural translator thing-a-ma-bob to translate.
Even the English text was difficult to read as it was scribbled hastily, but Jacob could roughly make out some of its contents.
"The bound in the centre, the purpose at the top, the cra-
-almost complete, can't stop now I wil-
-tol* *e abo-"
From there, Jacob couldn't make anything out. At least he learned that the 'bound' belonged to the centre and the 'purpose' at the top, whatever that meant.
After looking at the documents, he found an irregular shape protruding from underneath some of them.
Further investigation revealed a key, too large for the diary but perfectly sized for the door he'd seen on the way here.
The final thing he noted was the mirror.
Nothing was strange about it, but a certain phenomenon hadn't gone unnoticed by Jacob.
The only other time he had encountered a mirror was also the only time he had seen the daughter's spirit.
He didn't know if it had some deeper meaning, but every other reflective surface in the mansion was covered in some way.
The windows and all glass were fogged up, the kitchen and silverware were doused in grime, and even the still glass of water he had seen in the library was shattered before he could inspect his reflection in the water.
It was almost like the mansion detested giving Jacob the ability to see his reflection.
But why?
Since there was no imminent danger like with the first mirror, he figured he could use this opportunity to study his reflection.
A quick look into the mirror revealed nothing of note. His brown shortcut hair and similarly coloured eyes were still in the appropriate position.
The only difference from his typical plain appearance was the bruises decorating his forehead and cheek.
That was until he noticed something.
There was a slight discrepancy in the mirror. Practically imperceptible at first glance, but when he studied himself in more depth, he kept feeling something was off.
But he couldn't figure out what.
Right as he realised this problem, the light went out, and the room was reduced to pitch black.
Turning quickly, Jacob kept his body, holding his breath while he readied himself to dive away while straining his ears in search of danger.
But once again, he heard nothing but his own breathing.
A short time later, he turned around, straining his eyes, hoping to find a light switch.
Which he now realised was mysteriously absent from all the rooms despite it being a necessity in an electrically powered house.
That's when he noticed that the small desk lamp was turned on in the mirror, illuminating the room.
Oddly enough, the real version of the lamp wasn't turned on, and the light from the mirror version didn't pass the boundary of the mirror.
This made it rather tricky to navigate but also let him guess that when the lamp was switched off in real life, it would be switched on in the 'mirror world.'
Using the mirror to make his way to the lamp, he also noted that inside the lampshade appeared to be the outline of a small object.
Upon reaching it, he quickly fumbled his hand towards where it was in the mirror, only to find a tiny key roughly the right size for the notebook in his pocket.
Excited, he held the key and felt around the lamp for the switch.
Luckily, this part of the equation had no jarring surprises in store for him.
He quickly found and flicked the light switch, bringing back illumination to the once-dark room.
Getting the diary out of his back pocket, he placed the key into the lock and turned it with a satisfying "click."
His anticipation was high.
He had held onto this item the entire time he was in this crazy haunted murder house.
It was his constant companion, practically a friend.
Now he was finally going to learn if it was worth the effort of bringing it with him.
His mind raced as he opened the slightly worn pages of the book and read the contents within…
It was blank.
The notebook he had lugged from the starting room to here was blank.
"The moment I find some oil, I am burning you," Jacob promised the traitorous notebook as his hands trembled in frustrated rage.
In disbelief, he started inspecting the book from different angles and on other pages, which led to an important discovery.
Some text seemed to reveal itself when out of the light.
It reminded him of the target he had found in the power room when the light had gone out.
The one on the painting.
Of course, the text was blurred and hard to see, making his next move as apparent as it was concerning.
He had to turn the light out.
***
Quite frankly, Jacob did not want to turn the light off.
It was not something that he thought would be a fun experience.
In fact, if Jacob had to list every potential action he could take at this moment according to how much fun it would be, turning the light off would be very, very, very far down the list.
Right next so self-mutilation and running around naked in a pre-school.
Jacob thought this was understandable.
The idea of actively eliminating his primary ability to sense his surroundings in an environment that had proven on multiple occasions its preference visa-vi him being alive did not fill him with joy.
And yet he was going to do it.
Despite these complaints soaring through his head and nearly out of his lips, he was going to do it.
He would risk everything in this screwed-up haunted mansion just to read this random diary that may not even have anything useful.
A few moments of spouting bullshit in his head passed, and he was ready.
Well, as ready as he could be considering the circumstances.
He turned off the light, stared at the darklight text, and began to read.
Unfortunately, many passages were written in the same weird indecipherable text that seemed to plague most of the literature in the household, but some passages could still be read.
***
"Year 1 Day 1.
I can't believe I've been hired as a maid for the renowned Ashling house, the keepers themselves. I can see where their reputation stems from. It's not just that they are the private historians for the kingdom, but their aptitude for knowledge is amazing. The head maid gave me a tour earlier and showed me the library. I even managed to see the master studying while being served by the head butler. The scene of them casually discussing things I could barely understand in the library was like something from a storybook. In the village, I was praised for being able to read and write properly but here that's considered the bare minimum! I wish I could write more, but I'm still being trained and need all my energy to learn the ropes tomorrow!
Year 1 Day 2.
I'm even more exhausted today than the last, so I'll keep this brief. Today I met the madam of the house! She was so elegant! I stuttered a bunch when I talked to her, I thought she'd get mad at me, but she simply laughed and called me cute. Cute, like a child. Not the best first impression, but at least I didn't completely screw up.
Year 1 Day 34.
I know I haven't written in the last few days, but I've been so busy I haven't had the chance, but I knew that I needed to write down my news for today. The madam is pregnant! That's right, the madam is set to have a child, and they want the head maid to be the new nanny!
Year 1 Day 52.
I… I may have made a mistake. I have had relations with… even now. I can't bear to write it down. I know I shouldn't have, but his wife has been less… forthcoming in such things recently, and the way he spoke made it all seem to make sense at the time. Such is the boon of an intelligent man, I suppose. But I cannot let the head maid find out. I would be fired at once if she knew.
Year 1 Day 113.
With the baby nearly here, the head maid has finally fully converted her role to mid-wife and nanny. Leaving the position of head maid… to me. Apparently, both the madam and sir recommended me for the role. While I'm not sure if sir recommended me because of my abilities or as a bid for my silence to continue, I will do my best regardless.
Year 1 Day 121.
The madam gave birth to a healthy little girl.
Year 2 Day 317.
The Madam has had another child, a boy this time.
Year 9 Day 132.
It's been at least 2 years since I brought this out. But I need to write this down because I can't say it to anyone, yet I also can't simply keep it in any longer. I am pregnant with 'his' child. Our affair has continued throughout the years. I guess this was bound to happen eventually. It's funny that even now I can't bear to leave a trace of our misdeeds, I'm still a frightened young girl, I guess... I don't know what to do.
Year 9 Day 149.
Today the madam died. Trapped overnight in the freezer. An accident apparently, I… I don't know what to do.
Year 9 Day 172.
Since the madam died, sir hasn't come to me once. He just spends time in the study doing something he refuses to explain.
Year 9 Day 188.
Something has changed. He's different now. Before, when he looked at me, even when he seemed odd or even cold. He never felt like this, like he was looking straight through me. I… I'm scared.
Year 9 Day 202.
It's not just when I'm with him anymore. Everywhere I go, I can feel it. I can feel those eyes watching me, staring straight through me, straight at him."
***
The legible contents ended there.
The following few pages were filled with scratched writings and ravings. Eventually, they combined to form one sentence that seemed to be practically carved into the book with a pen.
"HE'S ALWAYS THERE.
ALWAYS WATCHING.
ALWAYS –"
Jacob stared at the book, his whole body tensing as fear filled his mind.
His heart hammered in his chest while his lungs worked overtime, vacuuming in precious oxygen before he closed his mouth to trap it there.
That last word was the most terrifying thing he had ever read.
Not because of something as simple as what it depicted of the woman's madness, but because it helped him realise.
It had happened earlier in this room.
It had happened in the basement.
It had even happened just then.
From the very beginning.
He could only notice at those times when the lights went off.
When he was submerged in pitch-black darkness.
Because it was the only time he broke the pattern.
The only time he was paying attention.
But he didn't notice.
Because it was natural not to notice…
The last word.
When he read it, he took a deep breath and held it.
So why?
Could he still hear himself breathing?