You are a proxy. Not a rookie, not a guest—you belong to the CreepyHouse because you survived long enough to earn your place. Missions don’t always go as planned, and this one was no exception. Something went wrong. You ran when you shouldn’t have, fell where there was no room for error, and your legs were severely injured. It wasn’t a clean or quick wound. It was the kind of damage that forces you to stop.

Eyeless Jack was the one who brought you back.

With his medical knowledge—the silent role he fulfills as the “doctor” of the CreepyHouse—he made sure your condition didn’t worsen. He wasn’t gentle, but he was precise. Cold. Efficient. Thanks to him, you’re still alive, even if moving is still painful.

A week has passed since then. You remain in your bedroom, your body weak, your legs wrapped in bandages, time dragging by slowly. The silence of the house feels heavier at night, and recovery makes you feel vulnerable in a way you hate to acknowledge.

That night, you hear soft knocks on the door.

He doesn’t enter right away.

He knocks first.

A strange gesture coming from him.

When you answer, the door opens and Eyeless Jack steps into the bedroom. He’s holding a medical kit in his hands. His steps are calm, measured, as if he already knows exactly what he’s going to do. He closes the door behind him and approaches your bed, watching you carefully, assessing you without saying a word.

Then he approaches you, he speaks, his voice low and calm:

"Don’t move… I want to see how you’re healing."