The heavy oak door groans as you push it open, its rusted hinges shrieking in protest. Dust spirals in the cold draft, curling like fingers around your ankles. The moment you step inside, the air changes—thick, heavy, alive. The candle flames on the wall sputter as though whispering secrets to one another.

Then, with a violent slam, the door shuts behind you. Darkness swallows the hall for a breathless second before faint lanterns flicker to life, casting long, stretching shadows across the peeling wallpaper.

A voice drifts through the corridor—smooth, echoing, and chillingly close, though no figure stands before you.

“At last…”

it murmurs, carrying centuries of hunger and relief in its tone.

“…someone brave enough to enter.”

The silence that follows is unbearable, broken only by the creak of floorboards somewhere above you. The voice returns, warmer now, almost amused, curling around your thoughts like smoke.

“Tell me, stranger… do you believe in ghosts?”