By the time night fully settled over the estate, exhaustion had claimed the rest of the house. Everyone else was asleep.
Everyone except me.
I pushed myself up and walked out toward the terrace. Every step felt heavier than it should have, as if my own thoughts were trying to drag me backward. But I didn't stop.
When I stepped outside, a sharp, cold breeze brushed against my face. The village stretched out below the estate. It was completely peaceful. Still. No voices carried on the wind. No movement in the streets. Nothing.
I stood by the railing, letting my eyes trace the rooftops, the narrow dirt paths, and the heavy shadows resting between the houses. For a moment, it felt like the entire place was deliberately hiding something. Or maybe, that was just my own paranoia bleeding into the scenery.
I walked further along the terrace and stopped. Something resting near the edge of the stone wall caught my eye.
A small, oval stone. It was far too smooth to be entirely natural.
I stepped closer and picked it up. Faint letters were carved into the surface: S × S.
The moment I read the carving, the memories came rushing back. My grip tightened around the smooth surface before I even realized what I was doing.
"...Yeah," I whispered to the empty air. "This is the one."
My grandfather's voice echoed perfectly in my mind, replaying the last time I had seen him. I could still remember the rough texture of his hand when he pressed the stone into my palm.
When you succeed... bury this.
I stared at the stone for a long time.
"I'm not there yet," I murmured.
The wind swept over the terrace again, biting a little colder this time.
"But one day... I will be."
There was no doubt in that thought. Only distance. I carefully placed the stone back on the ledge, in the exact spot I had found it.
As I turned to head back inside, something else caught my attention. An old wooden cupboard stood in the far corner of the terrace, weathered by years of sun and rain. It looked as if it had been waiting for me to finally notice it.
I walked over and slowly pulled the doors open. The hinges groaned softly, breaking the quiet of the night.
Inside were photographs. Dozens of them, stacked and scattered across the shelves.
My hand hovered for a second before picking one up. It was a picture of me. And him. My grandfather.
A small, genuine smile broke across my face before I could stop it. I picked up another.
It was me on a bicycle, struggling to keep my balance. My grandfather was jogging right behind me, holding the seat steady to make sure I didn't fall.
I grabbed the next one. I was perched high on his shoulders, my head thrown back in a laugh. Completely carefree.
I kept going. One by one. Each faded photograph pulled something deep out of me. It wasn't just the memories; it was the raw, unfiltered emotions of moments I had buried somewhere along the way.
For a little while, I forgot where I was. I forgot about the curse, the spirits, and Jason.
Until a much darker memory surfaced, triggered by the silence.
The day of my graduation.
I could still see it with agonizing clarity. The noise of the crowd. The celebration. The overwhelming feeling of finally finishing something important. I had rushed home, buzzing with excitement, ready to tell my parents everything.
Instead, I walked into absolute silence. The kind of dead quiet that makes your chest seize before your brain even processes why.
And then, the voice. It belonged to an officer. Cold. Detached. Professional.
Your parents are dead.
Just like that. A massive car accident. No warning. No chance to say goodbye. My entire world ended in a single, sterile sentence.
I closed my eyes, but the feeling stayed. It always did.
Then came the aftermath. The swarm of distant relatives. The concerned faces masking careful, calculating words.
Give us the house.
We'll take care of everything.
You won't have to worry about a thing.
But I understood what they were doing, even back then. This house wasn't just a piece of real estate to me. It was everything I had left in the world. It held every memory, every voice, every surviving piece of my family.
So, I refused. I didn't even have to think twice. Even if it meant being entirely alone, I chose to protect it. And if I had to go back, I would make the exact same choice again.
I slowly stacked the photos and placed them back on the shelf.
But my mind wasn't done pulling up the past. A different memory surfaced to push back the dark. A lighter one.
A quiet park. An empty bench.
I was sitting there, doing absolutely nothing. Thinking about nothing. Or maybe, thinking about everything all at once.
That was when he walked up to me. Haroku.
Back then, he was just a classmate. We weren't close. He wasn't important to me. Just another face in the crowd.
He sat down and started talking. Simple, normal things. I hadn't planned on responding. I wanted to be left alone.
But somehow... I answered.
And once I started, I didn't stop. I ended up telling him everything. More truth than I had ever offered to anyone else in my life.
And he just listened. Not with pity. Not with morbid curiosity. He just listened. That simple act was enough to lay the foundation.
Later that same afternoon, he asked me a question I completely didn't expect.
Do you want to become a paranormal expert?
I remember looking at him, confused. You are one?
He had just shrugged. Yeah. I'm new.
There was no pride in his voice. No exaggeration. Just the blunt truth. That was exactly why I trusted him.
I placed the final photograph back into the stack and gently closed the cupboard doors.
The terrace returned to silence. But it wasn't the same heavy silence from before. It was a reflection of everything I had been through. Everything I had lost. And everything I still had left to do.
I looked out at the darkened village one last time. It was still quiet, but it didn't feel distant anymore. It felt like a reminder of what I was fighting for.
I took a deep, steadying breath.
I wasn't ready yet. Not even close.
But I would be. No matter what it takes.
And when that day finally comes—I'll come back and bury that stone.
Just like he told me to.