Arshen's footsteps crunched on the thickening snow. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering fear from the strange encounter earlier. His detective instincts told him there was more to the mystery hidden behind that house.
He couldn't rely solely on his sight. If he wanted to understand what was really happening, he needed to gather information.
Arshen walked through the cold streets of the city, heading toward a busier area. The gas lamps along the road flickered dimly, casting alternating light and shadow that added to the mysterious atmosphere of the snowy night.
He started with the classic approach—asking the locals and collecting rumors related to his mission.
---
An old man in a thick coat stood at the corner of the street, selling evening newspapers.
Arshen reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the man. "One newspaper, please."
The old man grinned, handing over the paper with a slightly trembling hand. "Cold night for reading the news, eh?"
Arshen unfolded the newspaper, glancing at the headlines before asking, "The house on 21 Dove Street, near the empty field at the end of the road... Do you know anything about that place?"
The old man sighed and wiped his nose, red from the cold. "You mean the cursed house?"
Arshen nodded.
The man snorted. "Only fools would go near that place. A wealthy family used to live there, but they all met a tragic end."
"Tragic?"
The man swallowed hard and pulled Arshen closer.
"Yeah, though it's just a rumor I heard, most people around here believe it."
"What was the family's name?"
"Krostalea."
Arshen raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised.
"The Krostalea family. They were quite respected back then. The head of the family, Hendrik Krostalea, was known as a kind and generous man. But after a while, his neighbor started complaining about strange noises in the house. Some servants went missing, and eventually, the entire family vanished without a trace."
"And since then, the house has been empty?"
"Everyone who tried to live there ended up going mad... or disappearing."
Arshen made a mental note. "Has anyone ever survived?"
The old man nodded but gave a strange expression. "The church came to investigate once, but they found nothing unusual. Though some believe the church, most people here trust the rumors more."
The story was quite similar to what the woman had said, but why did the church claim there was no issue? Clearly, there were several bodies in that house, or maybe...
Arshen didn't want to remember again.
Arshen tossed a coin to the old man with a smile on her face.
"Thank you for the information. Good night."
Arshen left the old man, pulling out his notebook and jotting down what he had just heard.
---
Arshen entered a small tea shop on the side of the road. The air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and spices.
The owner, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair starting to gray, greeted him warmly. "You look like someone in need of a warm drink."
Arshen gave a faint smile. "Black tea, please."
As the woman prepared his tea, Arshen asked, tilting his head slightly, "Ever heard of the old house near the empty field over there?"
The woman's expression changed instantly. "You mean the house on 21 Dove Street?"
Arshen nodded.
The woman sighed, her voice lowering. "There used to be a girl who often came to this shop. She was the youngest daughter of the Krostalea family who lived there. Beautiful, cheerful... and she wore glasses that suited her dark eyes."
Glasses? Dark eyes? Could it be...?
The old woman continued.
"But a few weeks before her family vanished, she changed."
"Changed?"
"Yes. She became quiet, often talking to herself, and her eyes... always looked empty, as if she was seeing something we couldn't. Sometimes, it felt like she was living in a different world."
Arshen nodded, sipping his tea as he asked, "Do you remember her name?"
The woman looked at him with concern. "Lily. Lily Krostalea."
The name etched itself into his mind. It confirmed his suspicion—the youngest daughter of the Krostalea family, Lily Krostalea, was the woman he had seen earlier. Perhaps it was all just a dream fabricated by the mastermind behind this, or perhaps she was the one behind it all.
But what confused Arshen was: How could the church not notice anything?.
If Lily was the one behind all this, she must be a Commoner. Maybe her ability was to isolate a specific location into a dream and create unreal scenes. That's why the church investigators found nothing—they were trapped in the dream. This was starting to make sense.
Arshen drank the tea, and immediately paid for his tea, stood up, and smiled.
"Thank you. Good night."
Arshen left the tea shop and walked down the dimly lit street, jotting down a few things.
After writing, he continued to ask more locals to confirm some details.
---
After gathering enough information, Arshen headed to Eaglewood Bar—the place where he had taken the mission earlier.
The bar wasn't too crowded tonight. A few drunk men sat in the corner, while Leroy, the slim man in his usual attire, was wiping glasses.
"You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you the one who took the investigation mission for 21 Dove Street?" A woman with long black hair and an eyepatch over her left eye smirked as Arshen walked in.
Arshen sat down, placing his hands on the table. "Yes, If I'm not mistaken, you were the one before, weren't you?, how should I address you, madam?"
The woman rested her head on the table and said softly, "Rostalin. Just call me that."
Leroy, standing behind the counter, raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did you find something, Mr. Zodiac Moriarty?"
Arshen nodded. "Just bad rumors. Like the family who lived there disappeared without a trace, and everyone who tried to enter the house ended up going mad or vanishing. That sort of thing."
Leroy paused for a moment before setting down the glass he was cleaning. "That's surprising. I've seen plenty of fools try to unravel that mystery. But they either came back with reports of no issues or disappeared and never returned."
Arshen narrowed his eyes. "I'm not them. Maybe those who disappeared just had bad luck."
Leroy chuckled softly. "Suit yourself. But as I warned you, you're still new here, so be careful. There are things in this world better left unknown."
"Haha, well, you're not wrong, but being too cautious might just drag you deeper," said the woman next to Arshen, who seemed already drunk.
Arshen glanced at her briefly, took a sip of his drink, and stood up. "How do I claim the reward?"
Leroy sighed. "Come back here tomorrow or one day after. I'll inform to the mission owner first. You can leave some of your investigation notes here as proof."
"Alright."
Arshen took one of the books from the leather bag he kept inside his brown coat and tore out a page to hand to Leroy.
Arshen glanced at Rostalin, who was slumped drunk beside him, and said politely, "It was nice meeting you, Rostalin. good night."
Rostalin turned her head and said indifferently, "Yeah..., you're quite polite for a rookie."
Arshen stepped out of Eaglewood and walked toward Oak Street to return to Bourguis Inn.
Tap...
The air grew colder as Arshen finally returned to Bourguis Inn, where he was staying. The inn had a cozier atmosphere compared to the other houses in the town.
He climbed the stairs, opened the door to his room, and entered. The small room had a simple bed, a wooden desk in the corner, and a small bathroom at the end.
As he closed the door and took off his coat—
Tap...
Arshen froze and thought with alert expression.
What's that?
The faint sound of footsteps echoed.But not from the hallway outside. The sound came from inside his room.
He slowly turned toward the mirror in the corner of the room.
In the reflection, the background behind him was filled with unruly, long black tendrils.
But in the blink of an eye, when he blinked, it all disappeared like an illusion. Feeling something strange, Arshen quickly turned around, grabbing a small knife from his leather bag.
But there was no one there.
Yet, in the mirror—the long black tendrils reappeared, like an illusion.
Suddenly, the room lights flickered. A cold sensation ran down his spine. Arshen gripped his knife tighter, his breath quickening.
Swish—
He turned around again, but he just slashing the air with his small knife.
Am I just too tired today?. He thought with doubt etched on his face.
He open the door again and look to the hallway, but nothing is different there, everything still looks the same, He closed the door again, then swallowed his saliva and said with a sigh of relief
"Fiuhh..., I think I'm really tired, I need to rest now."
Something isn't right, something feels different there but, Arshen convinced himself he was just exhausted.
He quickly put the knife back into his bag, hanging it on the clothes rack where his coat was. He threw himself onto the bed and tried to fall asleep without thinking about what had just happened.