The old mansion seemed to swallow Linh Nguyet whole.
Three days had passed since her wedding night, yet she remained trapped inside. The iron gate outside wouldn't open. Her phone had no signal. There was no internet. It was as if the world beyond had simply ceased to exist — leaving only her and the man who had been dead for three years.
She didn't dare speak his name.
Didn't dare call him "husband."
Because she knew very well — he was no longer human.
Yet he was everywhere. In her sleep. In the shadows. In every creaking corner of this decaying house. Sometimes, it was the soft sound of footsteps down a silent hall. Sometimes, it was a faint breath brushing against her ear when no one was there.
And sometimes… she would see him.
Standing right at her door.
Tall. Still. Unmoving. Watching her with eyes deep as an abyss — as if waiting for something.
On the morning of the fourth day, weak sunlight filtered through the dusty glass. Linh Nguyet sat alone in the dining room, trying to force down spoonfuls of cold porridge — leftovers from the night before.
Yes, there were still servants in this house. But none of them ever spoke to her.
An elderly butler with silver hair, a quiet old maid, and a mute gardener — all moved like shadows. They worked mechanically, emotionlessly, and completely ignored her.
She had asked:
"Where is Luc Trac? Is he here?"
No answer.
She pleaded:
"Why is the gate locked? Why can't I contact anyone?"
They merely bowed their heads and turned away.
That afternoon, Linh Nguyet made her way up to the third floor.
His room — the dead man's room — stood at the end of the hallway, sealed shut by a heavy black wooden door. She had walked past it several times but never dared to enter.
Today, for reasons she couldn't explain, something urged her forward.
Her hand reached for the doorknob. It was cold — like ice soaked in metal.
Click.
The door creaked open. It hadn't been locked.
Inside was a large room, blanketed in shades of gray. Heavy curtains shut out most of the light, save for a thin beam that cut across the dark wooden floor. Dozens of black-and-white photographs lined the walls — all portraits of the same woman.
Not her.
Each photo captured a different emotion: smiling, crying, terrified… And in the last one, the woman's eyes were wide, as if caught in the moment of ultimate horror.
Linh Nguyet staggered back, her spine prickling.
At the center of the room was a large table covered in a white cloth. Upon it sat a small ebony box. She didn't know what possessed her, but her hand reached out… and opened it.
Inside lay a silver wedding ring. Plain. Old. But inside the band were two engraved letters:
"L.T."
Luc Trac.
Just then, a voice spoke softly behind her:
"You shouldn't be in here."
She spun around. No one.
But the door had shut itself.
Panic seized her. She rushed to it, turned the handle — locked.
The air turned colder by the second, thick and suffocating. Wind whipped the curtains violently. The photographs rattled on the walls as if they would fall at any moment.
Thud.
A figure emerged from behind the table. Tall. His face hidden in shadow.
She didn't need to see clearly. She already knew who it was.
Luc Trac.
But his face tonight wasn't expressionless like in her dreams. It was… dark. His eyes glowed faint red like blood. His lips curled into a faint smile — both alluring and terrifying.
"You stepped into my room. Touched what was mine…"
"You tried to escape this place… but now you're part of it."
She trembled. "What do you want from me?"
He walked toward her. Each step weighed on the air, making it harder to breathe.
"I want you to stay."
"I want you to remember."
"Remember what…?" she whispered, confused.
He didn't answer. He simply leaned closer, eyes locking onto hers.
And then — memories that weren't hers came flooding into her mind. Vague. Chaotic. Like shattered pieces of an old nightmare.
Flames. Screams. A man kneeling in darkness, cradling the bloody body of a woman…
And that gaze.
That anguished gaze — from Luc Trac.
She jolted awake, lying on the wooden floor.
The silver ring sat quietly beside her.
The door stood wide open. No one in sight.
She sat up, clutching her head, heart hammering in her chest.
His whisper still echoed faintly through the room:
"Soon… you'll remember. All of it."