The next day, I followed Peter once again as if nothing had happened. He seemed to be back to his regular schedule after last night’s escapade. After finishing his work, he returned home as usual.

I waited a while to ensure he wouldn’t head out again before making my way to the outskirts of town. Something about that mansion gnawed at my mind; my intuition told me there was a significant secret hidden there, and my curiosity compelled me to uncover it.

Late at night, I arrived at the mansion. I parked my car deeper along the dirt path to keep it out of sight and grabbed a bag filled with supplies I thought might come in handy for a late-night break-in. I pulled out a flashlight, flicked it on, and used the beam to light my way.

Previously, I had been so focused on Peter that I hadn’t taken a good look at the mansion itself. Now, standing before it, I could see it was an old structure that had seen better days. Faint moonlight illuminated the clearing, but the mansion itself was shrouded in darkness. Despite being deep within the forest, the area around the mansion was unnaturally quiet—no insects chirping, no animals rustling in the underbrush. It was as if the entire forest was wary of the mansion. The only sound was the faint rustling of leaves in the chill night breeze.

The mansion had two floors, including the ground level. Its windows were tightly shut, and the interiors were veiled in darkness. The walls were worn and decaying, with paint peeling away in several places, giving it a neglected, haunted look.

I rubbed my hands together as I approached the main door, trying to ward off the cold that seeped through my jacket. With every step closer to the mansion, the chill in the air seemed to intensify, sending shivers down my spine. Something about this place felt wrong.

I took a moment to survey my surroundings, sweeping the torchlight from left to right. As the beam passed over the left corner of the mansion, a faint figure appeared in my peripheral vision. I quickly swung the torch back, but the figure was gone—nothing but shadows and the quiet of the night.

‘Weird. Maybe this place is just getting on my nerves.’

Shaking off the unease, I approached the mansion’s front door and tried the handle, half-expecting it to be unlocked. No such luck—Peter hadn’t forgotten to lock up. The door was secured with a sturdy lock, not something a novice like me could handle with a simple lockpick.

I sighed, realizing I wouldn’t be getting in easily.

‘Guess it’s the hard way, then.’

I decided to check the windows, hoping one might be open. If not, I’d have to pry one open, though I’d prefer to do that on a side or back window, where it’d be less noticeable. I subconsciously moved toward the area where I’d seen the faint figure, glancing up at the windows along that side of the mansion. Both were tightly shut, their dark panes reflecting the dim glow of my torch.

Turning the corner to the side of the mansion, I noticed a huge oak tree with a swing hanging from one of its lower branches. The ropes of the swing looked worn, frayed, and eerily like a noose, as if they were waiting to strangle someone, slowly depriving them of oxygen until…

‘Wait a minute, why did I think that?’

A chill ran down my spine, and I shook my head, trying to dispel the disturbing imagery. The mansion’s oppressive atmosphere seemed to be seeping into my thoughts, twisting them in unsettling ways.

I took a deep breath, trying to refocus. I wasn’t here to get spooked by shadows and old swings. I had a job to do, and I needed to find a way inside.

I shook off the unsettling thoughts and refocused on my objective. There were three windows on this side of the mansion, all tightly closed. As I debated which one to try, the dim light revealed a shadowy figure—a woman hanging from a noose tied to the oak tree, her long black hair draped over her face, obscuring it completely.

Unaware of the figure behind me, I felt a sudden prickling sensation on the back of my neck, like the weight of someone’s gaze. A chill ran down my spine, and I instinctively turned, shining my torch toward the oak tree.

Nothing. Just the swing moving slightly, as if nudged by the wind.

‘Strange, it felt like someone was watching me,’ I thought, frowning at the empty scene.

Trying to shake off the unease, I headed for the window farthest from the tree, keeping my back to it as much as possible. I didn’t know why, but something about that spot made me want to keep my distance.

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Reaching the first window, I picked up a small rock from the ground and smashed the glass. Carefully, I reached through the broken pane and unlatched the window from the inside. As I pulled my hand back, something brushed against it, sending a jolt of panic through me.

I gasped, yanking my hand away and shining the torch through the broken glass. A narrow corridor came into view, with a curtain by the window swaying lightly, likely stirred by the wind that passed through the opening.

‘It’s just the curtain. No need to be so paranoid,’ I scolded myself, trying to steady my breathing. I pushed the window fully open and climbed inside, landing in the dark corridor.

Unbeknownst to me, as I slipped into the mansion, the woman reappeared, sitting quietly on the swing. Her head was still bowed, obscured by her dark hair, with a faint outline of a rope noose barely visible around her neck. She watched in silence, her presence a haunting shadow in the cold night air.

‘I should learn lockpicking if I want to stay in this profession,’ I thought, glancing at the shards of glass on the floor after jumping inside the mansion. It felt unprofessional, and the idea of being able to come and go as I pleased, wherever I wanted, appealed to me.

‘Wait, why am I thinking like a thief?’ I chuckled to myself, shaking off the thought.

I flashed the torch down the long corridor. The ceilings were high, and the faded wallpaper was peeling in various places, giving the place a neglected feel. Several ornate oil paintings lined the walls, their subjects staring out from behind layers of grime. As I walked through the silence, it felt like the eyes in the paintings were following me, sending a shiver down my spine. Moonlight filtered faintly through the windows, casting a pale glow that partially illuminated the corridor.

‘Strange, from outside it looked completely dark. Are the windows tinted?’ I wondered, noting the unexpected light.

The chill inside the mansion was more intense than outside. I rubbed my hands together, trying to generate some warmth, regretting not bringing heavier clothing. The cold felt unnatural as if the walls themselves exuded an icy breath.

I searched along the walls for a light switch but came up empty. There seemed to be no power, leaving me no choice but to rely on my torch and the faint moonlight to guide my steps.

Soon, I came across a tall wooden door adorned with intricate carvings. The wood was slightly warped, with small cracks and chips around the edges, and the varnish had long since dulled, marked by water stains and scratches from years of neglect.

I carefully pushed the door open, revealing a grand living room. Faded ornate wallpaper covered the walls, and the hardwood floors creaked underfoot. Antique furniture filled the space, their designs elegant yet marred by time. In one corner stood a grand piano, its keys partially covered by a cloth, untouched for what seemed like years. A thin layer of dust settled on everything, indicating that this place hadn’t been used frequently—if at all.

I found a switchboard in the living room and tried every switch, but nothing happened.

‘Either the power is out, or there’s a central control for the lights,’ I mused, feeling a slight twinge of frustration as the darkness persisted.

Two other doors led out of the living room. I opened the one closest to me and found myself stepping into a library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with old, dusty books that exuded the musty scent of aged paper. A large window, partially obscured by heavy curtains, allowed thin slivers of moonlight to slice through the gloom. A worn leather armchair sat by a cold fireplace filled with old ashes, remnants of a fire long gone cold.

I glanced around the library, scanning the shelves. They were filled with classical literature, gothic novels, and a few journals, none of which piqued my interest. The room had the feel of a place once cherished but now forgotten. Deciding there was nothing of value, I left the library and returned to the living room, choosing the other door this time.

The door opened into the entrance hall. To my left, I recognized the corridor I’d originally come through, identifiable by the window I’d broken open. I turned to the right instead, moving cautiously.

A few steps later, I saw the large double doors that marked the mansion’s main entrance on my right, and a wide staircase with ornate railings curving up to the first floor on my left. A chandelier hung precariously from the ceiling, its slight sway giving the unsettling impression that it might drop at any moment. I made sure to pass it from the side, avoiding directly walking under it—a sudden fall was the last thing I needed.

I decided to explore the rest of the ground floor before venturing upstairs. Turning left into another dim corridor, I pushed open another door. It led to a dining room. A long, imposing table dominated the space, flanked by tall-backed chairs, all shrouded in a thin layer of dust. Along the wall, a sideboard displayed various pieces of silverware, their once gleaming surfaces now dulled and scratched.

There was only one other door in the dining room, leading to the right. It connected to the kitchen. Despite the mansion’s old-fashioned appearance, the kitchen surprisingly housed modern appliances, a jarring contrast to the rest of the house. The cupboards were covered in faded paint, and a large wooden table stood in the center. The fridge was empty, devoid of any signs of recent use.

I left the kitchen, retracing my steps back through the dining room and into the corridor. As I continued down the hallway, I couldn’t help but think about the various rooms I had explored so far. Everything on the ground floor seemed relatively normal if a little rundown. Nothing out of the ordinary—yet.

As I reached the end of the corridor, I found another door. I tried to open it, and unlike the others, it was locked. I paused, examining the door more closely. Judging by the mansion’s layout, it seemed likely that this was the entrance to the basement. A locked door meant secrets, and my curiosity flared at the thought of what might be hidden below. Unfortunately, without a way to open it, the mystery would have to wait.

Frustrated but determined, I retraced my steps back to the mansion’s entrance. With nothing exciting on the ground floor, I decided it was time to check the first floor. Maybe I’d find something useful—like the key to the basement—in one of the rooms above.