The Nightmare Investigation Bureau's archives were buried deep beneath headquarters. The entrance consisted of two massive iron doors, etched with intricate sealing symbols that glimmered with a cold metallic sheen. Between the doors, shadows seemed to lurk, whispering warnings to anyone daring enough to step inside. Ethan stood before the doors and couldn't help but whistle. The sound echoed through the empty corridor, sounding oddly out of place.
"Well, this setup's even more over the top than a bank vault. I hope they're not storing some world-class secrets—or the director's dirty little diary?" he joked, tapping the doorframe lightly, as if testing the weight of the imposing doors.
Silas shot him a cold glance, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "Stop wasting words. This place holds records of past cases, files on the deceased, and unsolved nightmare phenomena. Every single document could be deadly."
Ethan shrugged. "Sounds more thrilling than a black-market novel."
Though his tone was light, his chest tightened as the doors slowly creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The air inside felt denser, heavier, tinged with the scent of aged paper and dust, and an unnameable chill—as if the documents themselves were watching intruders.
Tall, ancient bookshelves stretched in long aisles, like forests rising from an endless void, exuding an aura of deathly silence. Ethan's footsteps echoed softly on the wooden floor, each step feeling like a disturbance to sleeping souls. He couldn't resist glancing at the tops of the shelves, where cobwebs and dust had settled for decades, and flickering metallic labels hinted at secrets best left alone.
"Stay close," Silas's voice murmured, low and icy, without an ounce of warmth. His gaze swept every corner with surgical precision, as if he could peer through the pages into hidden truths. Ethan nodded stiffly, trailing behind him, curiosity surging like a flood, almost overpowering his caution.
As they passed through the narrow aisles, a deep mechanical hum suddenly filled the archive: "Identity verification."
A ghostly blue beam swept over Ethan, and he leapt back, nearly colliding with a bookshelf. "Whoa, facial recognition too? I hope it doesn't mistake me for a wanted criminal—look at this handsome face!"
Silas snorted coldly, saying nothing. He entered a command, and the beam slowly dissipated, leaving only a faint electric hum in the air. Ethan rubbed his forehead, still tense, feeling as if the light had reached into his very soul, leaving a brief sting.
As they ventured deeper, Ethan's curiosity became nearly impossible to restrain. He noticed labels on the files—grayish-white paper, yellowed edges, faded handwriting, carrying decades of secrets. Unable to resist, he reached for a file at random.
The cover was yellowed, with several blurred letters inked across it: "V—L."
Ethan's fingers trembled slightly, his chest tightening as if he had triggered some hidden mechanism. He drew a deep breath and carefully opened the first page, reading a fragment of text:
"Veil family… suspected to be connected with the Nightmare Gate."
His fingers froze on the paper. Breathing faltered for a moment, and the ink mark on his chest pulsed faintly, as if responding to the name. Memories surged—familiar shadows, candlelight flickering in a dark room, and a name: Ronan.
"What are you doing?" Silas's low, metallic voice struck like steel against his chest, snapping Ethan from his trance.
Ethan hurriedly closed the file, forcing a harmless smile. "Nothing… just checking if there are any overdue utility bills from my dad."
Silas's gaze fell on him like an icy blade, piercing through Ethan's façade for a few tense seconds. Finally, he said lightly, "Don't touch files unrelated to you."
Ethan feigned indifference and returned the file to the shelf, but his mind churned. Veil family… Nightmare Gate… These words clamped around his thoughts like chains, dragging him back to memories he dared not face.
And in his mind surfaced one name—Ronan.
Memories rushed like tides, both hazy and vivid. Ronan had once been a friend of his family, frequently appearing in past Bureau cases. Ethan vaguely remembered that before Ronan left, he had mentioned strange matters regarding the Nightmare Gate. At the time, Ethan had thought it was merely an old family legend. Now, he realized that it was intimately connected to himself, right here and now.
He clenched his fists, recalling his father's final words: "Be careful… the Gate… be careful of that Gate…" Back then, he had dismissed it as old paranoia. Now he understood—the Gate, the Veil family's secrets, and the nightmares he faced at the Bureau were inseparably intertwined.
"Ronan… what exactly are you up to…" Ethan murmured, his voice echoing between the archive's high walls like tremors on stone.
The air around him seemed to quiver in response, dust floating in the dim light, as if listening to his question. Shadows between the shelves moved like living things, each breath felt recorded, every heartbeat brushing against some hidden mechanism.
Ethan closed his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He knew the Bureau's archives were no ordinary library; each file could harbor danger, even threaten life. He had to be careful—but inside, a burning desire persisted: to uncover the truth of the Veil family, Ronan's secrets, and the mysteries of the Nightmare Gate.
His fingers still lightly touched the cover, feeling a subtle pulse, as if an unknown force acknowledged his presence. The ink mark on his chest warmed slightly, reminding him—this was more than a file. It was a key to the abyss, a test from the Bureau itself.
Ethan opened his eyes slowly, gaze sharp and cold, murmuring to himself: "Whatever you're hiding, Ronan… I will find the answers."
Under the dim yellow lights of the archive, shadows writhed between the towering shelves, as if whispering: The true trial of the Nightmare Investigation Bureau is only just beginning.