Juson did not enter the house immediately. He remained standing beneath the damaged doorway, his eyes fixed upon the darkness stretching silently beyond the entrance while the cold night air drifted quietly around him from the empty street behind. Only moments earlier the neighborhood had seemed merely deserted, but standing before Hakiten's house made the silence surrounding everything else feel almost comforting by comparison. The building no longer resembled an ordinary home. Earlier that afternoon it had simply appeared neglected, worn by time and burdened with an atmosphere that made prolonged visits uncomfortable. Now it felt different. Older somehow. As though something invisible had withdrawn from the place, leaving behind nothing except an empty shell that continued standing long after whatever had once filled it had vanished. The dim interior revealed almost nothing. Through the darkness he could distinguish only a few familiar shapes. The table still occupied the same position near the center of the room. The chair where Hakiten had been sitting only hours before remained exactly where it had been left. Beyond those faint outlines, everything dissolved into shadow. For several long seconds Juson seriously considered turning around. His car still waited outside. He could leave now, drive home to Yokina and Herik, and convince himself that whatever had happened here belonged solely to Hakiten and the police. He owed no explanation to anyone. Yet every attempt to retreat collapsed beneath the same memory. The maid. Her body dissolving into impossible blue grains before his own eyes. That single image refused to release him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he crossed the threshold.
The instant his foot settled upon the wooden floor, the atmosphere changed so abruptly that he stopped without thinking. The difference could not be explained by temperature alone. The air inside the house felt unnaturally heavy, dense enough that even breathing demanded slightly more effort than it should have. It seemed less like entering a building than stepping beneath deep water, where every movement met quiet resistance from the world itself. Juson remained perfectly still for several moments, allowing his eyes to adjust while carefully studying everything around him. The wall to his right appeared strangely untouched, its pale surface surprisingly clean despite the abandoned appearance of the rest of the room. The opposite wall told an entirely different story. A broad stain spread unevenly across the white paint, dark even beneath the weak light filtering through the entrance. It looked less like a splash and more like the violent imprint left behind when something had struck the wall with overwhelming force before sliding downward. Without consciously deciding to move, Juson found himself walking toward it. Each slow step carried him closer until the stain filled almost his entire field of vision. His hand lifted instinctively, fingers opening slightly as though compelled to examine it more closely. Then, without warning, the ceiling bulb above him flickered violently. The sudden burst of unstable light shattered the strange trance gripping his thoughts. The bulb flashed repeatedly before glowing with impossible brightness for the briefest instant, bathing the room in harsh yellow-white illumination, then gradually dimmed again until only a weak yellow glow remained overhead. That fleeting brilliance revealed everything.
The stain was blood.
Juson recoiled almost immediately, taking an involuntary step backward as though the wall itself had suddenly become dangerous. Beneath the smeared crimson mark lay shattered ceramic plates scattered across the floor in dozens of jagged fragments, their broken edges catching the faint light from above. For one brief moment he felt an overwhelming desire to leave the house entirely. Blood transformed everything. A damaged door could be repaired. Broken furniture could be replaced. But blood belonged to violence, and violence carried consequences he no longer wished to understand. Almost instinctively he turned toward the open doorway behind him. Outside, darkness had settled completely across the quiet street. The neighboring houses, whose occupants had watched silently only minutes earlier, had now extinguished nearly every visible light. Curtains remained drawn. Windows reflected only darkness. No one wished to witness anything more. No one wished even to acknowledge what had occurred here. Juson swallowed slowly, forcing himself to look away from the doorway before the temptation to leave overcame him completely. Gathering what little resolve remained, he stepped farther into the house. Only then did he realize how little distance he had actually covered since entering. The rooms seemed strangely larger now than they had appeared earlier that day. The empty spaces between walls stretched farther than memory suggested, while each careful footstep echoed faintly against the wooden floor before disappearing into deeper silence.
Moving cautiously alongside the long sofa positioned against the wall, Juson's attention drifted toward a nearby table. A thick layer of dust coated its surface so completely that it appeared untouched for months rather than hours. He stopped immediately. That detail disturbed him almost as much as the blood. Dust had gathered heavily across the tabletop, yet the house had not stood abandoned long enough for such accumulation. Instinctively his gaze lifted toward the ceiling. It remained remarkably clean. No crumbling plaster. No exposed beams shedding debris. Nothing explained where the dust had originated. His eyes then moved toward the familiar light switches mounted beside the sofa. He remembered their position clearly from earlier visits. Walking across the room, he pressed them one after another without hesitation. This time the ceiling bulb responded immediately. It illuminated the room with steady, unwavering light, free from the violent flickering that had startled him moments earlier. Before he could fully process the change, another sound echoed faintly somewhere deeper inside the house. Juson froze instantly. The noise had come from the direction of the kitchen. Every muscle in his body tightened as he instinctively leaned closer against the wall, staring toward the dark corridor ahead as though expecting someone or something to emerge from it. The kitchen itself remained completely black. The ceiling light reached only the entrance before surrendering to shadow. Juson slowly forced himself away from the wall. Walking blindly into that darkness felt impossible. Searching quickly around the room, his eyes settled upon an object resting quietly atop the dusty table.
It was a torch.
Unlike everything surrounding it, the torch remained perfectly clean. No dust covered its metal surface. No fingerprints. No signs of neglect. Juson reached for it almost immediately. "Cops," he muttered beneath his breath, assuming investigators must have left it behind during their search. Without wasting another moment, he switched it on and directed its narrow beam into the darkness ahead. The concentrated light sliced cleanly through the shadows as he advanced cautiously toward the kitchen. After only a few careful steps he raised the torch toward the entrance... and stopped. The kitchen door was missing. Not standing open. Not partially broken. Entirely gone. Juson remained motionless several feet from the entrance while listening carefully. The faint sound still drifted from somewhere inside the darkness beyond. It continued softly, steadily, carrying with it an oddly familiar rhythm that seemed almost recognizable without revealing its source. Something about it felt profoundly wrong. Before he could identify why, the ceiling bulb behind him extinguished instantly. There was no warning, no flickering, no gradual dimming. One moment light filled the room. The next, complete darkness swallowed the entire house. Simultaneously, the mysterious sound vanished. Silence rushed into its place with startling completeness. Juson struck the torch sharply against the palm of his hand. Once. Then again. The beam returned weakly, trembling before stabilizing. Only then did he realize the strange sound had ceased altogether.
A cold sensation spread slowly through his chest.
The silence no longer resembled the ordinary quiet of an empty house. It possessed intention.
Carefully he resumed walking toward the kitchen. The weakened beam drifted slowly across the wall before descending toward the floor, illuminating the entrance inch by inch. Juson halted once again. The missing kitchen door had not disappeared at all. It lay broken across the floor directly before him, split cleanly into two large sections surrounded by splintered wood scattered in every direction. The shattered frame suggested tremendous force. Someone or something had smashed straight through it rather than opening it normally. Juson stared silently at the destruction. No ordinary person could have broken a heavy wooden door in such a manner. His first rational explanation arrived almost automatically. Perhaps the police had forced entry during their investigation. Yet even that thought failed to convince him completely. The beam continued moving across the kitchen. Cupboards. Countertops. Broken glass. Then suddenly something dark darted across the edge of the light. Juson stepped backward so abruptly that his heartbeat surged violently against his ribs. Instinct took over before thought could catch up. The torch swept rapidly through the room until the narrow beam finally settled upon the broken kitchen window. A black cat sat calmly upon the windowsill, perfectly motionless beneath the pale light. Its eyes reflected brilliantly, shining almost silver as it stared directly back at Juson without fear or curiosity. For several long seconds neither moved. Then, with effortless grace, the cat leapt through the shattered window frame and vanished into the darkness outside without making the slightest sound. Silence reclaimed the kitchen immediately. Juson released a slow breath, allowing his heartbeat to settle once more. Yet the brief relief the animal's appearance provided dissolved almost instantly. The cat had explained only one thing. Something else remained hidden inside the house. Something far more unsettling than broken doors, bloodstained walls, abandoned dust, or frightened neighbors. And whatever it was, Juson could feel its presence lingering quietly within the darkness that still surrounded him.