The clanking of metal echoes from the next room, where Helgen is busy hammering away at his latest project. The heat from the forge, as always, seeps into the room where Lilia usually greets visitors—or hides from Helgen's grumpier moods.
At this hour, when the afternoon light starts to fade into an orange evening glow, the workshop is usually quiet. No one bothers dropping by unless they have an urgent order. So when Lilia hears footsteps, she already knows this isn't the usual customer.
She sits at one end of the table, sipping another cup of tea. Across from her sits a petite girl with a nervous look in her crimson eyes, a wide-brimmed witch hat perched neatly atop her black robe. Her twin-tied hair, bound with neat red ribbons, is unmistakable.
Rosa.
Lilia hides her grin behind her cup. It's one of those rare times when Rosa comes to her for help—and not just any help. The reason behind it makes it all the more delicious.
Setting her cup down, Lilia tilts her head with a beaming smile.
"So, let me make sure I've got this right. You're asking me to come with you because you're scared to spend a night alone in a haunted house. That about sums it up?"
Predictably, Rosa's temple twitches. Her cheeks puff in a pout as she leans forward.
"I am not scared! Like I said—we don't know what's in the house! The client asked me to spend the night there to prove it's habitable and to exorcise anything that might still be lurking. The reward's quite handsome, which means it's probably too good to be true. So as a countermeasure, I need you there. Maybe someone plans to attack the place, or… or something! We never know!"
Lilia's smile doesn't waver. She buys none of it, of course.
For one, she's probably the only person in town who knows how ridiculously capable Rosa really is. Bandits or stray spirits wouldn't even scratch her. And second—the house is in the middle of town, where guards patrol constantly. If anything so much as creaks too loudly, they'd have half the watch knocking on the door.
"Fine," Lilia says, voice dripping with mock solemnity. "As your only friend, I shall humbly accept your desperate plea for assistance—be it for countermeasures or comfort."
"First off," Rosa snaps, "wipe that smug grin off your face! And you're not my only friend! I have others too, you know!?"
"Right, right," Lilia says, waving her off. "So tell me—how big is this house that requires both of us brave souls?"
Rosa averts her gaze, a bead of sweat forming on her temple as Lilia's grin widens.
"...It's a two-story house. The kind you see all over town."
"Riiiight," Lilia hums. "So not a sprawling haunted manor on a mountaintop, got it. But I understand—you just need a, hmm… countermeasure in case there are any—" she raises her fingers dramatically "—'unexpected events.'"
Her reward comes instantly: Rosa's exasperated glare.
With the workshop finally closing, an exhausted Rosa trails behind a far-too-excited Lilia as they set off toward the haunted house.
...
The sun sinks below the horizon, leaving the sky draped in a blanket of deep blue, sprinkled with faint stars. Streetlights hum to life, glowing bright white with a soft blue hue — the unmistakable shimmer of mana stone light.
Inside the house, everything looks pristine. Glyph lamps glow with a calm, warm-blue radiance, softer than the ones outside. The carpet is spotless, the couch plush and inviting. The kitchen looks like it belongs in a catalog — heat-glyph stove, enchanted blender, ice maker, dryer, quick heater — every tool powered by neatly slotted mana stones. Even the bathroom feels luxurious, with its separate toilet and bath stalls divided by polished wooden panels. A wash basin sits outside, its water glyph humming faintly, ready to rinse off tired hands.
Upstairs, the bedroom where Rosa and Lilia set their "basecamp" for the night looks equally prepared — clean linens, neat curtains, a soft glow from the wall lamp. Everything about the place screams ready to sell.
And that's because it is.
Lilia remembers what Rosa told her on their way here: the property belongs to a real estate dealer who bought it for cheap — suspiciously cheap. He hadn't known about the dark rumors attached to it.
Apparently, there'd been an incident.
A father was found hanging in this very room. His young daughter lay on the bed, bloodied, broken… and missing both her eyes. Since then, people whisper that a child's specter floats near the window at night. Guards walk faster past this house. Cleaners only come in daylight, and never alone.
Lilia takes another sip of tea — one she brewed in the sparkling new kitchen — and swallows hard against the chill creeping down her spine. Her eyes drift toward Rosa, who's busy pressing paper sigils onto each corner of the room. Her mouth is set in a firm line, her brows drawn tight, a faint sheen of sweat collecting at her temples despite the icy air.
Then Rosa walks over, holding a faintly glowing sigil paper. The markings pulse in sync with the glow on her palm.
"Lilia. Lend me your hand."
Lilia blinks, setting her cup down. "Sure, how can I help?"
Without a word, Rosa takes her hand and kneels — like a knight about to pledge fealty. Lilia can't help the grin tugging at her lips.
"Oooh, bold move, Rosa~ You sure you wanna start something while we're all alone?"
Rosa doesn't even blink. She presses the sigil to Lilia's palm, a light hum vibrating through the contact.
"Exactly because we're alone," she replies flatly. "I'm marking you so you won't trigger the alarm I've placed when you move between rooms. And I'm adding a mana detection layer — I'll know if there's a spike or dip in the surrounding field in case something starts using or nullifying magic."
Lilia stares at her hand, then at Rosa. "Right… overcautious as ever."
FFacing the other direction, Rosa raises her hand toward the center of the room. White circles of light bloom in the air, overlapping into a layered spell formation. The air vibrates with a low hum as the glyphs pulse brighter and brighter.
"Austraiven!"
The magic circle flares to life—so bright it sears through the room like a miniature sun. One rogue beam of light shoots straight into Lilia's face.
"MY EEEEEYEEES!"
Lilia collapses to the floor, clutching her eyes as she screams. It's not just her eyes that burn—every bit of skin the light touches stings, like she's being scorched under the noonday sun. The same holy sting she once felt in a church.
But she's not the only one screaming.
Echoes—shrill and inhuman—fill the room. The wails of lesser spirits twist through the air before fading one by one, expelled by Rosa's spell. The noise dies down, leaving a heavy silence.
Lilia pushes herself upright on shaky legs, panting, while Rosa exhales in quiet satisfaction.
"W–warn me next time you do that, would you!?" Lilia snaps, stomping the floor, a vein popping on her temple.
"Ah. Right. Sorry about that," Rosa replies, voice flat but a touch sheepish. "I'll be careful next time."
Lilia huffs and dramatically turns her head away, crossing her arms before trudging back to the table for another sip of tea.
Rosa eyes her. "Try not to drink too much, okay? I don't want you waking me up later if you've got to pick flowers."
"Oh, I'll wake you up," Lilia declares, pointing her cup like a weapon. "I'll wake you up in full and drag you along, just you wait!"
Rosa sighs, long and weary. "I guess this is my day now. Well, if you're going to the bathroom, do it now. I still need to exorcise the other rooms."
"Always be vigilant~" Lilia sing-songs, her grin returning. "Maybe you won't even notice a dangling hand resting on your shoulder~"
Rosa freezes mid-step, shoulders stiff. Her lips twitch.
"…I hate you."
And with that, she leaves Lilia alone in the bedroom.
Lilia can't help but smirk, sipping her tea with satisfaction—until movement catches her eye. The fruit painting on the wall seems to… slide upward. Just slightly.
She blinks. "Huh?"
Setting her cup down, she walks over and inspects it. Nothing seems off—it's just a normal painting. But suddenly, the air chills. The temperature drops in a way that feels wrong, like the room itself is holding its breath.
A shiver shoots down her spine.
Nope.
Without another thought, she bolts from the room.
"Rosa! Wait for meee!"
…
The cold of night wraps the room when an alarm wakes Lilia—
not the one Rosa set earlier, but her own biological one.
Rosa's prophecy has come true. Her bladder is screaming.
Lilia opens her eyes, her view immediately filled by the soft skin of Rosa's neck, just inches away from her face. She realizes, unsurprised, that her arms are wrapped snugly around Rosa's waist while one of her legs tangles with hers. Both are in pajamas, close enough to share each other's warmth.
Reluctantly, Lilia pries herself away from her favorite petite body pillow and shakes Rosa's shoulder.
"Rosa… wake up… Heeeey…"
Rosa mumbles incoherently, not even twitching.
Lilia exhales, steadying her breath. She really doesn't want to do this—but desperate times. Slowly, she slides her fingers to Rosa's side and gives a light wiggle.
"Rosa… wake up now… Heeey…"
"Hehehe… aha… Lilia… hehehe… stop iiit…"
Rosa shivers in her sleep, giggling through soft breaths.
Lilia pauses. Her heart does a little flutter at the sound. That laugh—quiet, unguarded—is one of her favorite things. One of the many reasons she never passes up a chance to tease Rosa.
But Rosa still doesn't wake. Normally, this would earn Lilia a swift kick to the shin and a glare sharp enough to kill. Now? Nothing. Just gentle laughter.
She almost gets lost in watching her… until she snaps herself out of it with a shake of her head. Removing her hand from Rosa's side, she clears her throat.
Okay. That didn't work.
Then it hits her—Rosa's been using magic nonstop since they got here. Wards, alarms, exorcisms. No wonder she's completely out cold.
Lilia sighs, throwing the blanket off and stepping out of bed. She paces the room, weighing her options while her bladder protests louder with every step.
Going to the bathroom in the dead of night. In a haunted house.
That's literally how every horror story starts.
She groans under her breath. "This is how people die."
"Mmmnnn!"
A sharp pang twists her stomach. No time left for dignity or strategy.
Reluctantly, she opens the door and steps into the hallway for her lonely pilgrimage to the bathroom.
The corridor stretches before her, long and cold. As she walks, she presses every switch she can find, sliding mana stones into light glyphs one by one until the path glows in a pale, blue-white light.
"If I'm going to meet a ghost," she mutters, "I'm not doing it in the dark."
But halfway down, the lights flicker—then die.
Pitch black.
A chill rushes through her spine, and her bladder clenches painfully.
"Nope," she whispers. "This can't end well."
Her mind races. Maybe she should just go back. There's an empty kettle in the room—yes, that kettle from tea time… desperate times call for desperate measures.
With grim resolve, she turns around—
—and freezes.
A small girl stands right in front of her. Dark hair. Eyes glowing blue. Staring straight at her.
"HIEEEEEEEEE!"
Lilia lets out a shriek and jumps back, terror jolting through her—
and along with it, a tiny, humiliating sense of relief. A bit of warmth trickles down her leg.
The girl raises a finger to her lips.
"Ssshhhhh."
Then, just like that, the lights flare back on—revealing a pair of familiar crimson eyes.
Lilia's breath catches. Relief floods her face.
"R-Rosa!? Don't sneak up on me like that! You just made me—"
She stops herself mid-sentence, cheeks burning.
Rosa's expression turns smug.
"Hmmm? Made you what? Go on, spell it out."
Lilia's face turns almost as crimson as Rosa's eyes. She scrambles to fill the gap in her sentence.
"Made me startled! You scared the heck out of me, so don't do that again!"
Rosa crosses her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Really? Your face says way more than 'startled.'"
Lilia can practically feel the smugness radiating off her. So this is what Rosa feels whenever she gets teased.
She stomps the wooden floor with a huff, pointing a finger right at Rosa's nose.
"And your face says you need to announce yourself like a normal person!"
Rosa raises a brow, clearly amused, but before she can respond, Lilia grabs her hand and tugs hard.
"Anyway! You're coming with me—one way or another!"
She drags her all the way to the bathroom. Even inside, Lilia refuses to let go, clutching Rosa's hand like a lifeline. Rosa doesn't resist; she just sighs and gestures toward the stall.
"Fine. You go first."
Lilia hesitates by the door, shifting awkwardly.
"Hey, um… Rosa? Just an idea. What if I… leave the door halfway open, and we, you know, keep holding hands? You can look away!"
Rosa fixes her with her usual deadpan stare.
"What are you even talking about? Of course not. Are you really that scared?"
Lilia looks down, cheeks puffed and eyes darting away. She nods slowly.
Rosa exhales the kind of sigh only best friends earn.
"Alright. I'll talk to you from here, okay? That should be enough, right?"
Lilia still doesn't move. "H-how about you… sing a song while I do my business?"
Rosa's face stays perfectly blank. "Don't be ridiculous. Just talk to me from over there."
Defeated, Lilia slumps her shoulders and drags herself into the stall, closing the door with exaggerated misery.
A few quiet moments pass as she finally relieves herself. The silence, however, presses heavy around her.
"Rosa? You still there?"
The response comes instantly, Rosa's tone flat as ever.
"Yes, I'm here."
Lilia exhales, comforted—at least a little. But soon enough, she calls out again.
"Still there?"
"I am," Rosa answers, voice edged with mild annoyance.
Lilia grins to herself. "You sound thrilled."
No response this time.
"…Rosa?"
Still nothing.
Her heart skips. The air suddenly feels thicker, heavier. She hurries, hands shaking slightly as she finishes up.
"Rosa! Rosa, are you there? Don't mess with me right now—"
Silence.
Her pulse pounds in her ears as she flushes the toilet, throws the door open, and bursts out of the stall—
Only to find the bathroom empty.
She whirls left and right. No Rosa. No sound.
"She must've gone ahead," Lilia mutters under her breath, forcing a shaky laugh. "Yeah, that's it. Just left early."
But then she feels it—something cold pressing down behind her, a suffocating presence that crawls along her skin. The lights flicker.
The toilet she just flushed… flushes again. By itself.
Lilia freezes.
Then instinct takes over.
She bolts out of the bathroom without looking back, sprinting down the hallway and straight toward the bedroom, heart hammering like it's trying to escape her chest.
Lilia bursts into the bedroom, heart pounding. The moment she spots Rosa peacefully asleep on the bed, her tension melts into sheer exasperation.
"There you are!" she yells, storming over. "YOU! How dare you!? You left me alone! I got really scared back there, you know!?"
She shakes Rosa with both hands, not holding back this time.
Rosa stirs, groaning softly. Her eyes flutter open—crimson and groggy—with a faint line of drool still clinging to the corner of her mouth.
"H-huh? Lilia? M-morning…?"
"Don't you 'm-morning' me!"
Without warning, Lilia pulls her into a tight hug.
"I was so scared! I thought you were still waiting for me—but then you were gone, and the lights, and—ugh!"
Rosa blinks, confused, still half-asleep. Her small hand moves weakly, patting Lilia's back in hesitant circles.
"Lilia, calm down," she murmurs. "First off, I don't even know what you're talking about."
Lilia freezes. Slowly, she pulls away to look Rosa in the eye.
"What do you mean you don't know? You were with me—in the hallway, in the bathroom! I talked to you! You answered me, Rosa! Then you were gone, and everything got dark, and the toilet—"
"Lilia."
Rosa's voice cuts through her ramble. Her expression hardens, the last bit of drowsiness fading from her face.
"I never left this room. I've been asleep the whole time."
The words hit Lilia like a physical blow. Her heart sinks as the details click into place—the drool, the exhausted look, the way Rosa barely stirred before. Of course she couldn't have gone anywhere.
Her throat tightens. "…Then who was that Rosa I met in the hallway?"
For the first time tonight, Rosa's calm truly cracks. Her eyes widen, then narrow with cold focus. She sits up abruptly and reaches for her satchel. The faint jingle of mana stones clinking together fills the air.
"Lilia," she says firmly, "we're exorcising the entire house again. Now."
There's no argument, no teasing reply—just a silent nod from Lilia. The two of them move through the house, their shadows stretching in the dim glow of glyphs. Spell after spell lights up the walls as they banish what lingers in the corners.
Only once the last charm fades do they finally crawl back to bed, drained but unwilling to close their eyes too tightly.
…
The bedroom glows—not from the faint glyphs lining the walls, but from the sunlight spilling through the window.
Morning warmth seeps into the room, soft and golden. It should feel comforting, marking the end of a long, dreadful night. Their quest should be over. They should be packing up, ready to report to the client that the house is finally cleansed.
But instead, Lilia and Rosa stand frozen in place, jaws slack, faces pale.
Because what greets them the moment they wake isn't the familiar fruit painting on the wall. It's a family portrait.
Every face on the canvas is slashed through with thick, fresh strokes of blood. The father's neck is circled by a jagged red line forming a crude noose. The daughter's eyes glow an impossible crimson, trails of blood running down her painted cheeks like tears.
And on the small table beneath the painting sits a bloodied fork—its tip still dripping with something fresh and dark.
Rosa moves first. Her breathing is tight, controlled. She inspects every corner of the room, every sigil she painstakingly placed the night before.
"This is… wrong," she mutters. "No signs of a break-in. No traces of magic. The sigils didn't detect any mana spikes or dips…"
Her voice wavers for the first time. Then she turns sharply to Lilia and grabs her hand.
"Lilia. We're leaving. Now. I don't know what this is, but I'm not staying another second."
Lilia can only nod. Her hands tremble as she gathers their things. Neither of them looks back as they rush down the stairs and out the front door, the sound of their hurried footsteps echoing through the empty house.
Days later, Rosa tells her that the maids checked the house that same morning.
No painting. No fork. Nothing out of the ordinary.
They make a silent pact—to never speak of that night again.
In an evening, back in her own home, Lilia sits with a cup of tea. She tells herself she's calm now—that the worst is over—but her hands still shake faintly. The tea tastes colder than usual.
As she exhales, something crinkles in her pocket.
Frowning, she reaches in and pulls out a small parchment—one she's sure she didn't bring with her.
Her breath catches. On it, written in jagged, childlike scrawl and dried, rusty red, are four words:
LET'S PLAY AGAIN SOON