Title: The Mystery of the Villa
After finishing their modest dinner of rice and preserved vegetables, Yamino and Hikaru sat in the dimly lit dining room. Shadows danced across the walls, cast by the flickering candlelight. The room was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustling of leaves outside. Yamino, curious about the place's ominous reputation, finally broke the silence.
"Hikaru," he said cautiously, "you mentioned something earlier about this villa being in the middle of a graveyard. Can you tell me more about it?"
Hikaru leaned back in his chair, his face obscured by the shadows. "Not now," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I'll tell you after dinner."
The atmosphere grew heavier as they finished their meal in silence. When they finally moved to the living room, Hikaru lit a few more candles and motioned for Yamino to sit. "You wanted to know about this place," Hikaru began, his tone low and serious. "Let me tell you a story."
Yamino leaned forward, the anticipation gnawing at him. Hikaru continued, "This villa wasn't always ours. It was originally built by a European governor centuries ago. He planned to make it his retreat, a symbol of his wealth and power. But before he could live here, he was called to war and died on the battlefield. The villa remained uninhabited for decades, and strange rumors began to spread. People said they'd see lights in the windows at night or hear faint music playing from within. Those who dared to come close claimed to see shadows moving inside, even though the place was locked up tight."
Yamino shivered, but he tried to mask his discomfort. "And now it belongs to our family? How did that happen?"
Hikaru shrugged. "No one knows exactly. But it's said that our great-grandfather acquired it through some obscure deal. Since then, everyone who's lived here has had… strange experiences."
Yamino felt a lump in his throat. "What kind of experiences?"
Hikaru's gaze darkened. "You'll find out soon enough. For now, let's get some rest. But listen carefully: if you wake up in the night and hear any kind of sound, don't go investigating alone. Understand?"
Yamino nodded, though unease churned in his stomach. As they made their way to the bedroom, Yamino noticed something odd—there was only one bed. "We're… sharing a room?" he asked, hesitant.
Hikaru nodded without looking at him. "It's safer this way. Don't ask why."
Yamino chose not to press further. Whatever the reason, he didn't want to know. As they settled into bed, the weight of the villa's dark history seemed to press down on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching them. He glanced around the room but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.
In the dead of night, Yamino awoke to the sound of knocking. His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound was faint but persistent, coming from the direction of the front door. He turned to see Hikaru already sitting up, his expression tense.
"You heard that too?" Yamino whispered.
Hikaru nodded, grabbing a flashlight from the nightstand. "Stay close."
As they climbed out of bed, Yamino's eyes fell on an old baseball bat leaning in the corner. He grabbed it instinctively, clutching it tightly as they crept through the dark hallway. The knocking continued, louder now, echoing through the villa.
"It's coming from the front door," Hikaru whispered.
The two of them moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled on the wooden floor. Yamino's grip on the bat tightened as they approached the door. Hikaru reached for the handle, pausing for a moment before pulling it open.
What they saw made them both freeze in terror. An old man stood on the doorstep, his body drenched in blood. Deep gashes covered his face and arms, and his clothes were torn and soaked. His eyes, wide with desperation, locked onto theirs.
Before either of them could react, the old man collapsed, falling forward onto the ground. Yamino and Hikaru shouted in unison, stumbling back in fear. The bat slipped from Yamino's grasp, clattering to the floor.
For a moment, neither of them moved, too shocked to process what had just happened. Then Hikaru stepped forward, his flashlight trembling in his hand. "We can't just leave him here," he said, his voice shaky but determined. "Help me."
Yamino hesitated but nodded. Together, they lifted the old man and carried him to one of the spare rooms. His body was alarmingly cold, but he was still breathing, albeit faintly. They laid him on the bed and did their best to treat his wounds using the limited supplies they had on hand.
"Who is he?" Yamino asked as he wrapped a bandage around one of the man's arms.
Hikaru shook his head. "I don't know. But we need to keep him alive until morning."
The two worked in silence, their fear momentarily overshadowed by the urgency of the situation. But in the back of Yamino's mind, one thought lingered: Who was this man, and what had brought him to their door in such a horrific state?
An hour later, just as sleep began to reclaim them, a strange voice echoed through the villa. Yamino's eyes shot open, his heart racing. He turned to Hikaru, who was already awake, his face pale in the candlelight.
"Did you hear that?" Yamino whispered.
Hikaru nodded silently, pointing toward the room where they had left the old man. The voice was coming from there.
They rose cautiously, the air around them thick with unease. As they approached the room, the faint light of the candles revealed a figure sitting upright on the bed. It was the old man, but he looked… different. Bandages now covered his entire body, leaving only his eyes visible. He resembled a mummy brought to life.
Yamino and Hikaru screamed in unison. "Mummyyy!" they shouted, their voices echoing through the villa.
"Quiet!" the old man hissed, his voice hoarse but commanding. "Don't shout, or they will know."
The urgency in his tone silenced them instantly. Hikaru stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Who are you talking about? Who will know?"
The old man's eyes darted toward the door, then back to them. "The ones who linger in the shadows," he said cryptically. "They're always watching. Always waiting."
Yamino swallowed hard, his throat dry. "What do you mean? Who are they?"
The old man leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "You shouldn't have come here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This villa is not what it seems. And neither are the graves outside."
A chill ran down Yamino's spine. He exchanged a nervous glance with Hikaru, who looked equally unsettled. "What are you talking about?" Yamino asked. "What's out there?"
The old man's eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. "You'll find out soon enough," he said. "But for now, you must stay quiet. If they hear us… there will be no escape."
The old man's cryptic words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken dread. Hikaru pulled Yamino aside, his voice a hushed whisper. "We can't just sit here. We need answers."
Yamino glanced back at the bandaged figure on the bed. "And what do you suggest? He's clearly hiding something, but I don't think he'll tell us anything more."
Before Hikaru could respond, the old man spoke again, his voice barely audible. "If you value your lives, do not venture beyond the villa at night. The graves are not just resting places; they are gateways."
"Gateways to what?" Hikaru demanded, his frustration breaking through his fear.
The old man's head turned slowly, his bandaged eyes locking onto Hikaru. "To them. The forgotten ones. The spirits that were never laid to rest. They roam freely here, bound to this land by something older than any of us can comprehend."