The front door shut with a hollow thud, the sound echoing far longer than it should have through the mansion’s entry hall. Dust stirred up from the impact, drifting through the pale afternoon light spilling in from the tall arched windows lining the staircase. You set the box down at your feet and took a moment to look around. The foyer was wide, grand in an old, tired way—faded wallpaper peeling at the corners, a chandelier hanging slightly crooked above, its crystals dulled by years of neglect.

You started with the windows. One by one, you crossed the room, forcing them open with stiff, protesting frames. Cool air rushed in, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth from the woods beyond the property. Somewhere deeper in the house, a floorboard creaked—not sharp or sudden, just the slow groan of old wood settling. You paused, then shook it off. Old houses made noise. That was normal.

Down the hall to the left, a few rooms remained untouched. Hyunjin lingered there, standing near the doorway of what used to be the sitting room. The furniture had been draped in yellowed sheets, outlines of sofas and chairs still visible beneath. He watched as you moved through the foyer, careful to keep his distance. When you turned toward the staircase, he slipped quietly into the dining room instead, drawn by the unfamiliar stacks of boxes lining the wall.

Once you disappeared up the stairs, he crouched beside one of them, curiosity getting the better of him. He peeled back the flaps just enough to peek inside—books, folded clothes, a framed photo wrapped in newspaper. His elbow brushed the side of the box, nudging it. It scraped softly across the floor.

Hyunjin froze.

Upstairs, you paused on the landing, brow furrowing. Before shrugging it off again.

Relieved, Hyunjin tried to push the box back where it had been. He misjudged the pressure. It tipped, flopping onto its other side with a loud thunk. He panicked, quickly lifting it—only to realize too late that you were already heading back toward the stairs.

He dropped the box, the vibrations of impact knocking a spray bottle off the table, making it roll across the floor, He hurriedly stepped back just as you leaned over the banister, peering down into the foyer. Nothing looked out of place, except that single cleaning bottle lying on its side near the dining room entrance. You frowned but made your way back downstairs, picking it up and setting it on the counter in the kitchen.

Hyunjin hovered just beyond the doorway, holding his breath as you passed. He followed at a distance as you moved through the kitchen—opening cabinets, stacking plates beside the sink, lining up cleaning supplies along the counter. When you stepped into the pantry to grab another box, he crept closer, accidentally brushing the broom leaning against the wall.

It tipped.

The handle hit the floor with a sharp crack.

You spun around. “Seriously?” you sighed, grabbing the broom and propping it more securely in the corner. “I swear this place is cursed.”

Hyunjin stared, wide-eyed, then slowly backed away as you returned to your task. He retreated into the hallway, heart racing, nerves buzzing, equal parts panic and fascination. From there, he watched you move room to room—foyer, kitchen, living room—bringing light and motion into a house that had been still for far too long.

He didn’t mean to make a mess. He really didn’t. He just wanted to see what you’d brought with you… and why you’d chosen his house.