That night, the house was unnervingly quiet.
No screams. No echo from the basement. Only the soft hum of the night breeze slipping through the curtains.
For the first time, Oska slept beside his wife.
Stevanie clung to his arm tightly, her grip trembling yet desperate—like a frightened child seeking warmth in the dark. Her breathing was uneven, as though haunted by dreams she couldn't escape.
Oska, exhausted, eventually drifted into sleep with her hand still clutching his.
When morning came, sunlight flooded the room through the half-open blinds. Birds sang cheerfully outside. It was a beautiful morning—too beautiful.
But the bed beside him was empty.
The faint warmth on the sheets was all that remained of Stevanie.
"Stevanie?" he called softly. No answer.
He got up, still half-dressed, and hurried downstairs. His steps echoed against the polished floor, each creak amplifying his unease.
When he reached the kitchen, relief washed over him—at least for a moment.
There she was, sitting by the table with Annchi and Mrs. Fexiao. The air smelled of fresh bread and coffee.
"Good morning," Stevanie greeted him with a faint smile. "Breakfast's ready. Don't worry, no soy today."
Oska smiled back, masking his suspicion. "That's… good."
He took a seat beside Annchi. Strangely, Mrs. Bao was nowhere to be seen.
As they ate, Stevanie's tone was unusually bright.
"I'm feeling much better today. My strength's returning. I think I'll go to the office after lunch."
Oska quickly shook his head. "No. You're still recovering. The doctor said two or three days, remember? I'll handle things for now."
"I don't think I can trust my office to someone like you."
"Well, don't forget that I already hired a new assistant that is better than me."
"Jennie?"
"Yes, don't worry. Me and her will take care of everything."
Stevanie fell silent. She didn't argue, but her eyes darted toward him with something unreadable—something dark behind that calm.
That afternoon, Oska went to the office alone. Jennie was already waiting for him, just as planned.
Inside Stevanie's private office, the smell of her perfume still lingered faintly in the air.
Jennie, dressed in black, stood before the open safe. "Everything is done, sir. Just like you said."
Bundles of cash, jewelry, and documents were stacked neatly inside.
But Oska didn't even glance at the money. Instead, he reached for a thin folder—a single sheet of paper slipped inside.
"This is what I need," he said.
"The tax records?"
He nodded. "And the monthly financial reports. With these, I can finally expose what company's been hiding."
For hours, the two worked through piles of documents, shredding some, copying others. By late afternoon, the office was a mess of papers and open drawers.
When evening came, they gathered everything they all needed. Oska returned home. The sky was painted orange, the air thick with the smell of the sea.
But as soon as he stepped through the gate, something felt wrong.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
"Annchi? Stevanie?" he called out. No reply. Even the security guard was gone.
Every room was empty. The living room lights were still off, the TV humming with static, but no one was there. Even the maids had vanished.
Oska stepped outside again—and finally saw them.
Denis appeared to be carrying Annchi across the road, which was very far away. Oska ran towards them. Their faces pale.
"Hey," Oska said softly, walking closer. "What are you guys doing? Why's nobody inside the house?"
Annchi didn't answer. She just stared at the ground, gripping Denis's hand tightly.
"Where are you going? Why do you look so scared? Come on, sweetheart. Let's go back home."
"No…" she whispered. Her voice cracked. "I don't want to go back there."
"Why not?"
"There's… something wrong in the house. My mother, she's going crazy."
A chill ran through him. "What do you mean?"
She didn't respond—her small body trembling.
"Denis, where are you heading off?"
"Somewhere safe. Probably police station. Annchi cannot be with her mother tonight."
Oska exhaled slowly, trying to understand the situation. He turned back toward the house. Just as he reached for the doorknob, a shrill scream tore through the air.
"HELP! HELP ME!"
Mrs. Fexiao burst through the doorway, her face ashen, her eyes wide with terror. She stumbled into the yard, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Mrs. Fexiao! Stop!" Oska ran to catch her before she bolted toward the street.
She struggled violently in his arms, her whole body shaking. Her eyes—once kind and warm—were now glassy and hollow, like a corpse that hadn't realized it was dead.
"Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed.
"Calm down! This is me, Oska. What is going on here?" Oska demanded, gripping her shoulders.
But she just kept shaking her head, sobbing uncontrollably.
Then, as he shook her lightly, her gaze finally focused on him—recognition flickered in her eyes.
"Mr. Oska…" she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely human. "Please… get out of here. Take your daughter and leave. Don't ever come back."
"Hey-hey, it's okay. Annchi already safe with Denis. What happened to you? Where's Stevanie?"
"She's gone mad," Mrs. Fexiao cried. "I can't— I can't face her anymore. She's not human anymore!"
"Not human?"
Mrs. Fexiao clutched his shirt desperately. "Please let me go!"
And before Oska could say another word, she tore herself free and ran into the street, her cries echoing into the twilight.
Oska stood frozen by the doorway, his pulse hammering in his ears.
The wind howled softly through the trees, carrying with it a faint sound—a whisper, or maybe a sob—from deep inside the house.
Something was waiting in there.
And for the first time, Oska realized… he was afraid to find out.