The last light of dusk faded behind the trees. The sky, once a soft orange, had turned a deep shade of purple—mourning something unspeakable. The house stood still—dark, cold, lifeless, like a heart that had stopped beating.
Oska stared at the half-open front door. The evening breeze slipped through the thin curtains, whispering softly as they brushed against the window frame. He swallowed hard and stepped inside.
Silence.
So deep that the sound of his own heartbeat echoed in his ears. No lights were on. Only the faint, dying glow of the sun streamed through the glass, casting long shadows across the dusty marble floor.
His footsteps stopped near the kitchen. There—faint but visible—small traces of red drops marked the floor, forming a trail that led toward the iron door at the far end of the room.
"The basement door?" Oska thought.
That was where he had last seen Mrs. Fexiao coming out.
He crouched down. The red stains still looked fresh.
"Is this… blood?" he muttered under his breath.
And from the darkness below, came the sound of footsteps. Soft. Measured. Climbing upward. Toward him.
Oska froze.
He wanted to run, but his body refused to move. His breath caught in his throat. Then, out of the shadows, a figure emerged—long, disheveled hair falling over her face. Bare feet. A pale nightgown trailing against the stairs.
Oska quickly raised his phone, the flashlight cutting through the dark.
The beam hit her face.
And in that instant, his terror shifted into confusion.
"Stevanie…? Is that you?" his voice trembled.
Her expression was calm. Peaceful.
She smiled—a soft, almost tender smile that didn't belong in a scene like this.
"Oh, you're home," she said lightly, as if nothing were wrong. "I was checking the water pipe down there. It was leaking again."
Her hands were hidden behind her back.
Oska stepped closer, but stopped when something thick dripped from behind her, splattering onto the floor.
Dark.
Red.
Stevanie quickly rubbed it away with her bare foot.
"Are you telling me the truth?" he asked quietly.
She smiled awkwardly. "Of course. Why would I lie to you?"
Without another word, she slipped past him and disappeared into the bathroom.
Oska followed a few steps behind, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Through the slightly open door, he saw the glint of a kitchen knife beneath running water.
Red swirled down the drain.
Stevanie scrubbed the blade calmly, her expression serene—almost blissful.
Oska's knees weakened. He stepped back slowly, careful not to make a sound.
But the floor creaked.
Stevanie turned her head, smiling sweetly.
"Oska," she said softly, her tone smooth yet hollow. "Don't even think about going down there. I told you, I was just fixing the pipes. There's nothing to worry about."
Oska forced a stiff smile. "If that's true, you should've called me. I could've done it for you."
"Nah, that's unnecessary," she replied quickly. "I want to learn to be a good wife for you. I have to start changing."
The words were gentle… but the way she said them didn't sound human.
Oska swallowed. He turned toward the basement again, but before he could open the door, Stevanie stepped out of the bathroom— with a bright smile and the same knife still in her left hand.
"I told you not to go down there," she said, lifting the blade slightly. "I'm hungry. Let's have dinner. Where's Mrs. Fexiao?"
"She went home earlier. Family emergency," Oska replied quickly. "Don't worry, I'll cook dinner myself. But… I'll need that knife."
He swallowed hard, trying to sound casual.
At first, Stevanie refused. Her eyes sharpened, filled with quiet suspicion.
But then, slowly, she handed him the knife, smiling sweetly.
Oska began chopping vegetables, his hands trembling. The knife slipped more than once.
From the table, Stevanie watched him silently, her head tilted slightly, studying him like a curious child.
"You look scared," she said softly. "Why?"
"Who? Me? No, I'm just tired… work's been rough," he replied quickly.
After dinner, Oska washed the dishes. Stevanie stood beside him, eyes unblinking, watching. Then she gently pulled his arm.
"It's late," she whispered. "Leave the dishes. Come to bed with me. I wanna be like last night."
Oska swallowed hard. His plan to escape would have to wait. If he refused, she might grow suspicious. So he obeyed.
In the bedroom, Stevanie curled against him, clinging to his arm like a frightened child. Her breath was warm against his skin. Her face looked peaceful… too peaceful.
Oska stared at her for a long time.
No matter what she'd done—or what he suspected—her beauty was disarming.
Soft. Fragile. Dangerous.
He wanted to touch her cheek, but hesitated. Then pity overcame reason. He brushed her hair gently… and drifted into sleep.
At midnight, when the clock struck two, Oska woke up. Stevanie was still asleep beside him, breathing evenly. That's the chance.
Quiet as a shadow, he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The iron door to the basement was still slightly ajar. A foul smell hit him immediately—rot and blood, thick in the air.
His trembling hand reached for the light switch.
When the bulb flickered to life, the world shattered before him.
Bodies.
Five men—bound and slumped against the walls, their eyes open but lifeless. Old and young alike.
They were still breathing.
Barely.
Their chests and arms were covered in deep, jagged cuts.
In the center—Mrs. Bao. Gagged, trembling, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at him.
Tears streamed down her face.
"Oh God…" Oska choked, covering his mouth as bile rose in his throat. He vomited on the cold floor, then staggered forward, shaking as he untied Mrs. Bao's bindings. When she was free, she collapsed into his arms, sobbing silently.
He turned to help the others— But then a voice, soft and dreadful, echoed from behind.
"Oh… my dear husband."
Oska froze.
It was the voice he least wanted to hear.
He couldn't even turn around.
"I told you…" The voice grew closer, smooth but ragged. "…don't go down here."
Oska slowly turned.
Stevanie stood at the end of the stairs. Her hair was tangled, her face half-hidden.
In her right hand gleamed a knife, slick under the light.
She smiled.