Chapter One: I Am Sorry...
Lumian stirred awake, his eyes half-lidded as the dim morning light seeped into his small apartment near the amusement park. At twenty, he was neither a boy nor quite a man, caught in that hollow space where life felt stagnant. He stretched lazily, the weight of another ordinary day pressing down on him.
The apartment was cramped and dull, its walls faintly stained from years of neglect. As he wandered through the room, his gaze fell on the cracked mirror by the wall. A pale, ordinary face stared back—messy hair, tired eyes, skin that seemed drained of vitality. He let out a sigh.
His uncle's voice from yesterday still lingered in his head:
"Little rascal, you shouldn't be living in this damn apartment. I heard the owner is a real stinker."
Lumian had chuckled at the time. "Uncle, I know. But it's fine. It's cheap, and it's close to the amusement park. Easier for me to get to work."
Uncle Joan had only grumbled, as always. "Kid, your parents built a house for you in the east. A big house. It's been years and you're still not living there, nor selling it. What's the point?"
Then his uncle's tone softened. "I know. Maybe you're keeping that house because it's the last memory of your parents."
At that, Lumian had fallen silent. His parents had died in a car accident when he was twelve. Uncle Joan had raised him since then, but the memory of that night still gnawed at him, buried deep but never forgotten. Finally, he had whispered: "Okay, Uncle. I'll look after it tomorrow."
---
Now, here he was, standing before the massive wrought-iron gates of the family house.
The sight made his breath hitch. The building loomed over him, weather-worn and cloaked in silence. Cracks ran across its walls, ivy clung to the stone, and broken shutters dangled in the wind.
"What the hell... It already looks like a haunted house," Lumian muttered.
The iron gates groaned as he pushed them open. A cold breeze brushed against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He clenched his fists and walked to the front door. "Damn... I don't know how long it'll take to clean this mess up."
With a deep breath, he pushed open the door. The hinges shrieked, and the stale air of the past welcomed him inside. The grand hall revealed itself in fragments—dust-laden chandeliers, faded portraits staring down at him, furniture draped in cobwebs.
"Not bad," he murmured despite himself.
He ascended the stairs, checking each room one by one. Dust, silence, emptiness. Then—
Crack.
A sharp sound cut through the stillness.
Lumian froze. His ears strained toward the noise coming from one of the upstairs bedrooms. He approached cautiously, pushing the door open.
A black cat sat in the middle of the room, its fur slick and its golden eyes gleaming unnaturally.
Lumian let out a shaky laugh. "Just a cat... You scared me." He turned to leave, but something about the animal's stare rooted him in place. Its claws extended, unnaturally long, glinting like knives.
Before he could react, the cat launched itself at him.
Instinct kicked in—Lumian dodged and stumbled backward, crashing into something soft behind him. He spun around, heart pounding, but before he could make sense of what he touched, the world around him twisted.
The bedroom dissolved into shadows.
When his vision cleared, he stood in a pitch-black chamber he had never seen before. The air was heavy, pressing on his chest. His breathing quickened.
"What the hell is this place...? Did I fall into some kind of hidden passage? Uncle never mentioned this..."
He took a tentative step forward, the darkness swallowing the sound of his footsteps.
Then he saw it.
A faint silhouette.
It flickered, then solidified—standing directly before him.
Lumian's body went rigid, his breath caught in his throat.
It was his father.
The same face he had seen buried beneath the earth eight years ago.
His knees trembled, his lungs struggled for air. His father's figure stood motionless for what felt like an eternity. Then, with a voice that seemed to echo from both nowhere and everywhere, the figure whispered three words:
"I am sorry."
Lumian's heart nearly stopped. His thoughts shattered. He couldn't move, couldn't speak.
Before he could process anything, a violent force surged from the figure, crashing into him. It was as if a storm had broken loose inside his skull. Something foreign was clawing its way into his mind.
Pain erupted—searing, unbearable. He fell to his knees, clutching his head as he screamed:
"ARGHHHHHH!"
The darkness devoured him whole.
---
When his eyes snapped open, he was back in the bedroom. The black cat was gone. The house was silent.
"Was that... a dream?"
But a sharp pain at the back of his head told him otherwise.
And then, before his eyes, a glowing panel flickered into existence, its light cutting through the gloom.
Lumian's lips trembled as he whispered:
"What the f*ck..."
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