With a shaky breath, I entered another house. As expected, it was stripped bare—nothing of interest at first glance. I scanned the walls, pressing here and there, hoping for some hidden mechanism, a clue that Suzan might have left behind. But I found nothing. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back outside and looked around. Suzan could have already left, but giving up wasn’t an option. I had to keep moving.

Across from me was another building, a two-story house, distinct from the others. I approached the slightly open door and nudged it further, slipping inside.

The scene was grim. Blood smeared across the walls, brain matter staining a rug near the entrance. Straight ahead lay the kitchen, just a few steps away, while to my right was the living room, where two old couches faced a wardrobe pushed against the wall. To my left was a table with six chairs, remnants of rotten food scattered across it.

“Empty…” I muttered to myself, frustration starting to build.

I moved cautiously, shoving the couches aside, hoping to uncover some hidden trapdoor or panel. But all I found were dust bunnies. Next, I opened the wardrobe, half-hoping for a secret passage like in the stories. No luck—just old robes hanging inside.

The kitchen was equally barren. I sifted through counters and shelves, searching for anything that might point to Suzan or her mother—a forgotten personal item, a trace they’d been here.

“Another dead end,” I grumbled.

I stepped outside, then froze, a thought crossing my mind. This house had an upstairs, but I hadn’t seen any stairs inside. I re-entered, double-checking every room, every corner. No stairs. Odd.

I returned to the yard and examined the upper windows. They were boarded up with planks. Something about that was suspicious—my gut told me I was close.

Back inside, I meticulously searched every crevice, pressing on walls, tapping around the floors, feeling for a lever or a hidden switch. But after scouring every inch, I still came up empty. Suzan was a crafty one; she’d hidden whatever she was hiding well.

“Hmm…”

Frustrated, I leaned against the table, arms crossed, and scanned the room. Everything looked worn and aged, as though it belonged—except for one thing. The couch by the window looked newer, out of place next to its older, faded counterpart. I walked over, giving it a good shove. Less dust covered it compared to the rest, a detail I’d overlooked before.

I crouched down, tipping the couch back to examine underneath. Nothing. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something crucial.

“Think, think…”

I lifted one of the cushions, and there, tucked inside, was a small piece of parchment. As I pulled it out, I heard a faint click somewhere in the house, like a lock releasing.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Placing the couch and cushions back as they were, I clenched the parchment, eyes darting around. I needed to locate the source of that sound.

“Where was that…?” I murmured, wandering the room as I listened carefully.

As I approached a specific spot on the wall, the parchment in my hand began to stiffen, almost as if it were reacting to something. I stopped, glancing down, and moved my hand closer to the wall. The closer I got, the more rigid the parchment became. I was definitely onto something.

I noticed a small section of the wall had shifted, revealing a hidden compartment with a narrow slot—just the right size for the parchment. I held it near, and it snapped into place in my hand as if drawn by a magnetic force. Suddenly, I heard the creak of movement, and the ceiling in the living room slid open, revealing a ladder that descended to the floor.

Quickly, I darted outside to check on the two men I’d knocked out. Both were still out cold. Assured I was alone, I returned inside and began climbing the ladder. My heart raced with each step, half-expecting Suzan or her mother to be waiting above, ready to strike as soon as I peeked out. Pausing halfway, I took out my phone, held it up to check the room through the camera, and saw no one.

“Good,” I muttered, relieved.

Once I reached the top, I clapped my hands off and took a look around. I was in a small bedroom with a single bed pressed against one wall and a small wardrobe opposite. The window was tightly boarded, blocking out any light.

I opened the door and peered out into a larger area, furnished with a big table in the centre, surrounded by chairs. The walls were decorated with paintings, which made me think that the looters hadn’t found this place yet. To my left, I saw another room with a curtain made of rope strands. Through the gaps, I could see that it was empty.

“Hmm…”

At the far end of the room, near two more boarded windows, there was a small coffee table with a couple of chairs and a book resting on top. The dim light made the room feel eerie, but I didn’t need a flashlight just yet.

Scanning the floor, I noticed that one area was slightly different in colour, as if there was a staircase before. That part of the room, the left one, looked oddly empty, with darker tones than the rest of the tiles.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Please let the dagger be here. Come on…”

I moved into the room with the rope curtain, parting it cautiously and stepping inside. It was sparse, just a small table under a boarded window, with a dark blue book lying on it. My fingers traced over the cover, feeling its rough, almost damp texture, as if it had been left out in the rain. It made an unsettling sound under my touch, almost like pressing on raw meat.

I opened it, flipping through the first few pages—empty. No writing, no markings, nothing. This strange book was unsettling, not the kind I’d want in my room.

“What even is this…?” I muttered.

Suddenly, a shout pierced the silence. “No!”

Alert, I perked up, rushed to the window, and gently pried a plank loose just enough to see outside.

Suzan stood below, one hand holding a bow and the other an arrow, her expression twisted with anger. She smiled, then nocked an arrow and released it, striking one of the men I had knocked out earlier, the arrow plunging in his head with a sickening thud. He dropped lifelessly to the ground, the arrow sticking out like a grotesque horn. My stomach twisted at the sight, but at least his friend was still safe, hidden inside the horse carcass.

Suzan was coming closer, and I knew there was no way to escape without revealing myself. I was trapped…

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I whispered under my breath. “Not now. Not like this.”