"It all started that day…
It was a completely ordinary morning. I sat in the lecture hall, focusing on a piece of fabric in a deep red color, lost in the details of its lines and angles, as if the whole world had shrunk to that sheet in front of me. Nothing unusual… just another university day.
After the lecture, I went with my friends to the restaurant near the university. We had lunch as usual, joking and laughing non-stop. Gaspar cracked his silly jokes, Julian debated me about old French fashion, and Louis complained about tomorrow's exam as if the world were about to end. The day seemed routine… until that moment.
In the afternoon, I was standing in front of the university building, chatting with some of my classmates. Suddenly, I noticed the atmosphere shift… Everyone on campus began turning toward the same direction. At the gate, there was a large black car, and in front of it stood three men. Broad-shouldered, stern-faced, dressed in sharp black suits. They didn't look like students or staff—more like personal bodyguards for someone important. Their eyes scanned the area as if searching for a particular person.
I felt a strange tightening in my chest. I wasn't the only one; my friends noticed it too. But, as usual, Gaspar… the reckless fool… decided to play the hero. He strode toward the men, waving his hand, shouting loudly:
—"Hello! Do you need any help?"
Louis, Julian, Étienne, and I exchanged shocked glances. We couldn't leave him alone, so we ran after him.
Gaspar stood in front of the three men, who stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, then turned back to him. One of them replied in a deep voice:
—"Yes… we do."
At that moment, one of the guards' eyes met mine. It was as if he recognized me instantly. I saw him nudge his colleagues lightly, signaling me with his eyes. I raised my eyebrow nervously. I stepped closer, my heart pounding, until I heard one of them ask me directly:
—"Are you… Lucien Moreau?"
I froze in place, feeling my blood run cold. I swallowed and answered hesitantly:
—"Yes… that's me."
No explanation followed. Their eyes suddenly glinted, then one of them opened the back door of the black car and gestured to me with an unexpectedly polite nod:
—"Please… come."
A heavy silence fell. My friends froze beside me, their eyes wide with shock and fear. They stared at me as if they had lost the ability to speak. Even I… couldn't decide. Why did they want me specifically? And who were these men anyway?
I knew my ordinary life ended at that moment.
But I rejected the idea immediately. I stopped in front of the car, raised my eyes toward the three men, and asked with growing confusion:
—"Who are you? Who sent you? And what do you want from me?"
They exchanged brief glances, as if silently debating whether to reveal something. Then one of them, a broad-shouldered man, sighed, stepped toward me, and stood right beside me. He leaned slightly, lowering his voice, but its tone carried a weight that made my heart race:
—"All you need to know… is that you will be fine. You're in safe hands. You just… have to come with us."
His words were outwardly reassuring, but to me, they felt like a veiled threat. My hands trembled unconsciously; I felt suffocated as if the entire forest had closed in on my chest.
Before the situation could worsen, Gaspar's foolish voice rang out, poking his head toward the black car with childlike amazement:
—"Wow! This car is so fancy… isn't it for VIPs?"
I froze, staring at him in disbelief. I couldn't believe my friend had chosen this exact moment to admire the car like a tourist at an auto show!
But the man didn't smile. He placed his heavy hand on my shoulder and pushed my back lightly—a calculated move, not violent, but enough to make it clear there was no refusal.
My four friends instinctively stepped forward, ready to intervene. I saw the fear in their eyes, and the hesitation. If they got involved… it could end very badly. I raised my hand at them quickly, forcing a tight smile, my heart screaming:
—"No… don't do anything. Don't worry… I'll be fine."
My words weren't really for them—they were a desperate attempt to calm myself.
The car opened its door, and my body seemed to move more than my will. I sat in the back seat, so tense that my fingers curled tightly on my knees.
The man closed the door behind me, then turned to sit across from me, staring silently with cold eyes. The two others sat in front—one at the wheel, the other beside him. The engine started to hum, and my thoughts began spinning uncontrollably.
I was alone now… trapped in an unknown black car, with three unidentified men… while my friends were left standing stunned at the university entrance.
The silence inside the car was suffocating… I didn't even dare look into their eyes. I just sat, staring out the window, thinking… is this a kidnapping? In front of everyone? But in a "respectful" way? If my parents… my Sister… knew… how would they react? Would they search for me, or assume I left of my own will? All these questions pounded in my head like heavy stones.
Half an hour passed like a lifetime… then the car stopped in front of a massive building. My heart tightened. I knew this place… I didn't dare admit it to myself, but I was certain I had seen it before. The guards told me to get out quickly; my steps were heavy, but I obeyed. The building felt eerily familiar… as if a memory was trying to force its way out.
We went inside… and with every step, I felt myself sinking deeper into something there was no way out of. Then… we reached an office door. The moment I saw the nameplate, everything inside me trembled. I'd been here before. I knew this door. I knew exactly who sat behind it.
The door opened. The lavish office… the scent… every detail hit me all at once. This was Velora Company.
Bella Leclerc's office. My professor. My mentor. The woman who quietly directed my life from afar.
She was standing by the window, a cup of black coffee in her hand, dressed in a red suit without the jacket. When she turned and saw me… she smiled. That smile—calm, confident, cunning. And me? I couldn't breathe. The shock slowly turned into something else—a mix of fear and the urge to cry. How? And why…?
"Lucieeenn!"
She called my name with genuine excitement, raising her arms cheerfully—so much that the cup slipped from her hand and hit the floor. Silence filled the room. Everyone's eyes fell on the spreading pool of coffee across the shiny tiles.
I couldn't move. I just stood there—frozen between disbelief and fear.
Then I saw her pick up a towel and clean the mess herself. She didn't order anyone to do it, didn't get angry, didn't show an ounce of the arrogance expected of a wealthy, powerful woman. She just… cleaned it up, like any ordinary person. How strange. I'd never imagined Bella doing something like that.
Then, just as suddenly, she straightened up again, her expression full of that same bright enthusiasm.
"Welcome, my dear. I'm so happy to see you."
But inside, I was shaking. My tears threatened to fall, and though I tried to hold them back, my voice came out broken:
"Y–your guards… They scared me. They didn't tell me anything… I didn't understand what was happening."
Her face changed instantly, as if she hadn't expected that. She turned sharply toward them, her eyes like blades.
"Is that true?! Did you frighten him?!"
Her voice cut through the silence like an arrow. I saw the three guards glance at each other nervously before one lowered his head and muttered:
"Madam… we didn't mean to scare him. We were only following your orders."
"My orders?! My orders were to bring him here, not terrify him!"
Her words were firm, absolute—but carried more disappointment than anger. For a moment, the scene looked almost maternal… a mother scolding her children for a foolish mistake. They stood before her, heads lowered, stripped of the intimidating presence they'd shown at the university.
She finally raised her hand and gestured toward the door.
"Out. You've learned your lesson."
One of them bowed apologetically before they all left in heavy silence. And then, it was just the two of us.
She turned to me and met my eyes. I knew she saw the tears I was trying to hide. My face was a mess of confusion and embarrassment. Then she suddenly smiled—then chuckled softly.
"Oh, Lucien, your face right now is priceless. You look like a child trying to hold back his tears."
I had no words. I just swallowed hard. Then she opened her arms.
"Come here… relax a little."
I couldn't help myself. With a single step, I moved toward her and fell into her embrace. I felt a strange warmth… one I'd never known before. For a brief moment, all my fear melted away. For a brief moment, I actually felt safe.
When I finally calmed down, we sat together on one of the wide sofas in her office. On the table in front of us lay an open folder and a pen, placed perfectly as if everything had been prepared for something I didn't yet understand. I was trying to collect myself when she said something completely unexpected.
"I want you to live with me—and with Amory—in our apartment. Perhaps for a year or two."
My breath caught. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. A strange sound escaped me, halfway between a gasp and a startled groan.
"Huh?! What?"
I stared at her, utterly stunned, as if she'd said something impossible. Then curiosity won over shock, and I asked directly:
"Why?"
She smiled, casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"All three of my former students lived with me for about a year when I chose them as trainees. It's nothing new."
My surprise only deepened. My voice came out hesitant but determined:
"But… why?"
She took a sip of her fresh coffee, set the cup down carefully, and looked straight at me with that unshakable confidence.
"Because that's how I can train them best. I can watch their progress, test their discipline. And, simply put… I want them to experience a life of luxury before they earn it for themselves."
I heard her words, but something inside me twisted uneasily. My heart split in two—half of me screaming with childish excitement: "I'll be living with Lady Bella herself! My teacher, my inspiration, my idol!"
The other half whispered urgently: "But what about my family? How can I just leave them?"
And that wasn't even the worst part. There was a bigger problem… Amory. Her husband. The man who despised me for no clear reason.
(I remembered our first meeting in her office, when Amory had looked me up and down and said mockingly, with a disgusted frown: "tch… so this is the boy? What a big asshole.")
How could I possibly live under the same roof with him? Just the thought of seeing him every day—breathing the same air—was enough to make my chest tighten.
"But… Lady Bella… I… I'm honoured, truly, but… I want to live with my family too. And Amory—your husband—he hates me. I couldn't bear living with him under one roof."
When I said that, I saw her expression shift for just a moment. She didn't get angry, didn't argue. She simply smiled—that enigmatic smile of hers that I could never read. It seemed to say: You'll agree in the end… because you know I never choose carelessly.
I thought I could convince her… or at least buy some time. But Bella was not a woman who backed down easily. When I told her I needed to ask my parents first, she smiled serenely and said:
"Of course, ask your parents, Lucien. I'll wait for your answer."
I truly believed my parents would take my side—that one of them would say, No, Lucien needs to stay with his family.
But what happened was the exact opposite. Everything sped up, as if time itself was dragging me toward a fate I hadn't chosen.
There I was, at home, my face pale and drained—caught somewhere between resignation and disbelief—while my mother beamed with joy, speaking to Lady Bella through my phone. Her voice was full of excitement, as if she'd just been awarded a medal of honour.
"Yes… yes, Miss Bella, of course we agree. It would be an honour for Lucien to live with you and learn from you."
I closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to ignore what I was hearing. My mother didn't just agree—no, she was excited. Overly excited, speaking with such enthusiasm you'd think she was talking to the Queen of France herself.
As for my father? He was in the kitchen, singing loudly while making dinner, as if he were celebrating his son's wedding, not his departure.
Then I glanced at my little sister. She was standing by the door, leaning forward to catch every word of my mother's conversation. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and jealousy all at once, as if saying to herself, "Why him and not me?"
When my mother finally ended the call, she turned to me with a bright smile and said cheerfully,
— "I'll go prepare your clothes now, Lucien. Tomorrow you'll be moving into Miss Bella's apartment."
I nearly screamed. Tomorrow?! Everything was being decided at lightning speed, without anyone asking the person actually involved.
And of course, that wasn't enough for my mother. She immediately grabbed her phone and called each of my aunts to share "the great news."
My little sister? She was already ahead of everyone, telling all her close friends.
I raised my voice in frustration, trying to put an end to this madness:
— "Stop! No one tells anyone! It's a secret—Bella said only the trainee's family is allowed to know. No one else."
A brief silence followed. All their eyes turned toward me. My father peeked out from the kitchen doorway. For a moment, their gazes fixed on me, and I thought maybe, just maybe, my words had gotten through—that I'd regained a shred of control.
But… no.
As if nothing happened, they all went back to what they were doing. My mother kept chatting with my aunts, my father went back to singing while chopping vegetables, and my sister continued laughing on the phone with her friends.
I sat there, staring at them in disbelief, then sighed deeply. It was as if I hadn't said a word. As if I were just a guest in my own home—no voice, no choice. They'd all conspired against me, and I was left to face my new fate…
Living with Bella and Amory.
---
Back from the flashback
I paused in the middle of the corridor, the buttons of my work uniform pressing slightly against my chest, though I barely felt it. I took a deep breath. Every step on the glass floor reminded me that my life here was anything but ordinary.
Why does everything always feel like I'm living in some bizarre movie?
My eyes stopped on a glass-walled room to the side. Inside, Bella was sitting on a chair, her radiant smile as bright as ever, while Amory stood behind her holding a bucket of icy water, a proud grin on her face that said, "The perfect moment has arrived."
Two employees stood in front of them—one holding a phone, recording every move with a small smile, the other watching the scene like it was a live performance. Beside them, another colleague was suppressing laughter, her face red as she struggled to keep it in.
From the outside, everything seemed calm, but tension rippled through every detail. My heart started beating faster, as if I were about to uncover a secret hidden behind this strange little scene.
Bella began speaking, though I couldn't hear a word through the glass. It felt like watching a silent film—just their gestures and expressions.
Then, suddenly, Amory lifted the bucket and poured the icy water over Bella.
"Oh my god!" Bella shrieked, her laughter mixing with the shock, but she quickly regained her balance, her smile never fading.
I couldn't help but chuckle quietly—the whole thing was too funny.
Amory stood proudly and declared, "There it is! Challenge complete!"
Bella brushed the water off the chair and replied with a grin, "Well, I didn't expect the camera to catch everything that clearly!"
I just stood there, watching every move and expression, and my brain started connecting the dots: this wasn't just a prank—this was a social media challenge video. Something that was definitely going to go viral soon.
I sighed again, placing my hand on my hip, thinking, "How many more of these weird moments am I going to witness at Bella's company? And where exactly is the line for this daily madness?"
---
Bella sat at her desk again, shoes back on after changing her clothes and fixing her hair. The office was softly lit, the evening sunlight spilling through the large windows and reflecting off the polished wooden floor.
Amélie lounged on the sofa, holding a cup of strawberry smoothie, her eyes locked on Bella as if waiting for the right moment to speak.
"Have you heard about the recent suicide case in Okijahara Forest?" Amélie asked in a low, almost whispering voice, yet sharp and clear.
Bella lifted her head, her gaze locking onto Amélie's, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"What do you mean?" she asked calmly, though her tone revealed a growing interest.
Amélie tilted her cup slightly before answering, as if carefully choosing her words:
"Eight people… five teenagers and three adults. One of them was about two months pregnant."
Bella leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening, though her composure remained intact.
"That's… a lot. All together?"
Amélie nodded, her gaze steady on Bella's, as if waiting for a reaction.
"Yes… same place, same forest, and the way they were found—it's all very strange."
Bella gave a small, uneasy smile—one that carried a hint of mystery.
"Strange indeed. That forest is infamous for its dark legends… but doesn't this feel a little too unusual?"
Amélie's voice dropped, almost whispering to the air itself:
"Exactly. Some think it's a series of suicides… but others believe something else is going on. Something that can't be easily explained."
Bella pressed her lips together, then said quietly but sharply:
"If that's the case… we need to be careful. No one should go near those incidents—unless they know what they're looking for."
Amélie nodded slowly, her eyes studying Bella as if realizing she was standing before someone who knew far more than she let on.
"You know something… don't you?"
Bella's lips curved into a small, mysterious smile. She turned her gaze back to the window.
"Let's just say… things aren't always what they seem."
A heavy silence followed, thick with the weight of what was coming. The atmosphere in the office grew denser, charged with mystery—more than ever before.
•••
At midnight, silence blanketed Bella and Amory's apartment. Both of them were sleeping peacefully in the bedroom.
Bella woke suddenly, her throat dry with thirst. She took a deep breath, then decided to get a drink of water. But another thought crossed her mind: she should check on her pet—the quokka—that usually sleeps in a small nearby room.
She slipped quietly out of bed, her footsteps barely making a sound, and went to the adjacent room. Gently, she opened the door and saw the quokka fast asleep on its little bed, resting peacefully. Bella smiled warmly, then softly closed the door, not wanting to disturb the animal's slumber.
Before returning to the bedroom, another idea occurred to her: why not check on Lucien?
She headed to his room, opening the door cautiously—but the room was empty. Her brow furrowed. Maybe he's downstairs?
She approached the stairs and went down quietly until she reached the living room.
There, sitting on a small couch, was Lucien. He was scrolling on his phone, a video of free boxing playing on the screen, but he wasn't really watching. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought, as though trying to solve a puzzle or dig up a buried memory.
Bella stood at a distance, watching him, a faint smile on her lips. She didn't want to interrupt him; she only wanted to take in this rare sight of him quiet and absorbed in his inner world—something she hardly ever saw outside of work or normal situations.
The silence in the room was soothing, yet tinged with mystery, as though every passing second carried the chance Lucien might reveal his thoughts—or something unexpected might happen.
She watched him for a moment longer, her smile widening just a little. Then she hesitated before speaking softly, so as not to startle him:
— "Deep thoughts? Or just admiring the ceiling?"
Lucien blinked slowly and turned to her. Surprise flickered in his eyes, along with a half-shy smile, as though he hadn't expected her presence.
— "Oh… Lady Bella, I didn't hear you come in… how long have you been standing there?"
She smiled, moving closer with quiet steps and sitting on the couch beside him:
— "I just came to see if you were here—and to check on you, of course."
Lucien lowered his phone and turned slightly toward her, his voice low:
— "I guess I'm fine… I was just thinking about some things… a bit of work, a bit of… personal stuff."
Bella laughed lightly, trying to break the silence:
— "I always see you like this—lost in thought while the world passes by like it's nothing. Isn't that exhausting?"
He looked at her, her words sinking in, then gave a faint smile:
— "Maybe… but sometimes, just sometimes, it's good to stare at the ceiling and think…"
Bella tilted her head, chuckling softly:
— "Alright, just don't forget to take a break—or drop all this mystery for a moment. We could even laugh a little before the night closes in."
Lucien drew a deep breath and nodded:
— "I think that would be good… maybe I need that more than I thought."
The room fell silent again, but this time the silence was warm—filled with a sense of comfort and safety, as though the night itself was watching over them. Outside, the city slept, leaving them a few quiet minutes before life returned to its usual noise and chaos.
Bella, sitting opposite Lucien, studied him quietly. Her usual smile softened as she noticed something he wasn't hiding very well—the lingering sadness in his eyes, despite his effort to seem fine. She tilted her head slightly, as if speaking to herself:
"He misses his family… no matter how hard he tries to hide it."
She sighed lightly, but then a new thought sparked across her face, replacing her pensive expression with a glimmer of childlike excitement. She suddenly exclaimed with a playful energy:
— "Lucien! How about we play a game?"
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, unused to hearing the word "game" from her at this hour.
— "A game?" he asked hesitantly. "What kind of game?"
She motioned for him to wait, then stood up lightly and headed toward a side room. The door she opened was familiar—he immediately recognized it as her private game room, the one few people ever entered.
Lucien stayed seated, his eyes following her steps with curiosity. Within two minutes, she returned carrying a strangely shaped wooden board marked with letters, numbers, and mysterious symbols.
She sat in front of him, a sly smile spreading across her lips as she said with clear excitement:
— "This… is a Ouija board."
Lucien stared at her in shock, his eyes asking the question before his mouth could: Is she serious?
— "You're… joking, right?" he said, trying to mask his unease with an awkward smile.
But Bella didn't answer right away. Instead, she ran her fingers across the board's surface as though presenting him with something precious, then lifted her gaze to him with a wider smile:
— "You'll never know the real fun until you try it."
Lucien sat stiffly, not reaching out, his expression a mix of fear and amusement. Yet part of him couldn't help but wonder what secrets this game held—and why Bella seemed to have a little secret behind that confident smile.
Bella sat beside him on the floor, the Ouija board between them. Small candles lit the space, casting an eerie dim glow, while Lucien's face grew tense as he stared at the board with anxious eyes.
Bella placed her fingers over the glass planchette and said eagerly:
— "Put your hand here, Lucien. Don't be a coward."
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly set his fingers down, feeling a cold tingle at his fingertips. Bella smiled brightly, saying:
— "Alright… Spirit, are you here with us tonight?"
Only a few seconds passed before the planchette moved slowly to the word: "Yes."
Lucien gasped, blurting out nervously:
— "No… no way! Lady Bella, you're the one moving it, aren't you?"
Bella chuckled softly:
— "No, Lucien. This game really works… we're not alone."
Lucien recoiled slightly but kept his fingers on the planchette. A chill brushed past him, like someone whispering in the dark.
Bella asked with even more excitement:
— "Spirit… what's your name?"
The planchette began to move quickly, spelling out: B-O-B.
Lucien's eyebrows shot up in disbelief:
— "Bob?! What kind of ghost is named Bob?!"
Bella burst into laughter, slapping her knee:
— "Even ghosts have normal names! I was expecting something like Azazel or Lucifer!"
But the mood shifted suddenly when a loud thud came from the window. Lucien flinched, shouting in fear:
— "Did you hear that?!"
Bella's eyes sparkled with excitement:
— "Amazing! Looks like Bob's trying to give us a sign."
Lucien grabbed his head and said:
— "Amazing?! It's midnight, we're playing with a spirit board, and there's a noise at the window! This is insane!"
Bella ignored him completely and continued:
— "Bob… Do you want to harm us?"
The pointer slowly slid toward the word "No"… then continued toward other letters: "Hungry."
Lucien's mouth dropped open in disbelief.
— "Hungry?! What kind of ghost gets hungry?!"
Bella burst out laughing.
— "This is brilliant! A hungry, clueless ghost—my God!"
Lucien sighed hopelessly.
— "Great. He's going to order pizza now."
Bella leaned closer to the board and asked:
— "Bob, what do you want to eat?"
The pointer darted quickly and spelled: "Chocolate."
Lucien looked at Bella, then buried his face in his hand.
— "Even ghosts are starting to act like Lady Amélie."
Suddenly, one of the candles went out, plunging the room into silence. Lucien turned sharply, while Bella kept smiling, whispering softly:
— "The real stage begins now."
The last candle flickered out without warning, and for a second, everything went dark—before the others flickered back to life, dancing faintly.
Lucien yelled, clutching Bella's arm:
— "I'm not staying another second! Let's get out before this turns into a third-rate horror movie!"
But the board moved on its own, the pointer sliding across the letters: "Nooooo."
Lucien gasped.
— "Lady Bella… the board's stopping us! We're trapped!"
Bella broke into laughter.
— "Don't be scared, Bob's too weak to do anything serious."
Then, the chair beside the table began to drag itself slowly across the floor.
Lucien jumped back, shouting:
— "The chair's moving by itself! Lady Bella, I swear it's moving!"
The pointer wrote: "Comfy chair."
Lucien fell to the floor, screaming:
— "Even ghosts want comfortable chairs now?!"
Bella laughed so hard that tears welled in her eyes.
— "Bob's officially a retired ghost—just wants to rest his back!"
But then, the curtain fluttered violently, even though the window was shut.
Lucien crept closer, tense.
— "Ah! See? That's proof it's not a joke! The curtain's moving and the window's closed!"
The pointer spelled: "Hot."
Bella froze for a moment before exclaiming:
— "Bob, are you sitting with us or complaining about the room temperature?!"
Lucien grabbed his head.
— "So Bob wants chocolate, a comfy chair, and an air conditioner! Lady Bella… Did we summon a ghost or open a customer service line?!"
As Bella laughed uncontrollably, the pointer began writing another word: "Pizza."
Lucien shot up.
— "That's it! I'm going to order pizza! Maybe we can banish him with food!"
He sat back down stiffly, sweat dripping down his forehead, while the pointer slid again: "Margherita pizza… with olives."
Lucien shouted,
— "Even ghosts have special requests! I'm done—completely done!"
He yanked his hand off the board and stood up, trying to back away.
Bella suddenly lifted her head, tilting it with a mock-sad expression, her voice trembling dramatically:
— "I knew it… you're just like them. You'll leave me too."
Lucien frowned, confused.
— "What do you mean, 'like them'?"
Bella lowered her eyes, her tone full of theatrical sorrow.
— "Everyone I played with betrayed the game. Amélie… Sebastian… Amory… all of them."
Lucien hesitated, curiosity slowly overcoming his fear.
— "Alright then… tell me. What happened to them?"
Bella smiled faintly, a mysterious look crossing her face.
— "I played this game with Amélie… but she couldn't handle it. She became obsessed—started talking to the walls, laughing as if speaking to her imaginary friend."
Lucien stepped back.
— "Wait… are you saying she went insane?"
Bella replied coldly:
— "Of course. She stopped seeing me—only saw ghosts after that."
Lucien swallowed hard but pressed on.
— "And… Sebastian?"
Bella chuckled lightly.
— "Ah, Sebastian… he lasted five minutes. Then screamed like a child and fainted. You should've seen his face—absolutely priceless."
Lucien blinked.
— "Sebastian? Fainted? After just five minutes?!"
Bella nodded, then her face suddenly grew serious. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
— "But Amory… my dear husband… he ran. Opened the apartment door, bolted outside, and left me alone with Bob… all night."
A short silence fell.
Lucien stared at her, stunned.
— "Wait—your husband? He left you alone? In the middle of a Ouija session?"
Bella suddenly laughed.
— "Yes. I've never seen him run that fast in his life."
She sighed deeply, returning to her dramatic tone.
— "And since that day… no one will play with me anymore. They all leave. Even you, Lucien…"
She placed her hand on the board, staring at it like she was about to cry.
— "Even you will leave me."
Lucien breathed slowly, his body tense, hands trembling slightly as he looked at the board. His heart pounded—his mind screaming, Get out! Leave before it's too late!
But he remembered Bella's words… the sadness in her voice… how everyone before him had run away.
He hesitated, mind and body at war, then steadied himself and whispered:
— "No… I won't be like them. I won't leave you alone."
Bella smiled faintly—grateful, almost tender—then placed her hand on the pointer.
— "Good. Then let's see what the spirits want to tell us this time."
Lucien sat down carefully, placing his fingers lightly on the pointer. The air felt heavier now. The dim light flickered, and the faint wind outside whistled through the cracks. Somewhere unseen, the silly ghost Bob seemed to be watching, amused.
— "Are you ready?" Bella asked, her eyes gleaming with a strange mix of excitement and longing.
— "I think so…" Lucien murmured, nervous but determined—not to be like the rest.
The game began again. The air grew tense, thick with mystery—as though the room itself had become part of Bella's ghostly world. Lucien fought to balance fear with curiosity, knowing this time… he wouldn't run.
---
Meanwhile, quiet footsteps echoed on the stairs—Amory's. His jaw was tight, his expression stormy, every step fueled by anger and suspicion. He hadn't found Bella in bed when he woke, so he began his slow search through the house, each thought darker than the last. In his mind, one image burned bright: Lucien.
When he reached the living room, he froze. Bella and Lucien sat side by side on the floor.
The blood in his veins turned to ice.
He whispered furiously:
— "That idiot… What the hell is he doing with her at this hour?"
As Amory leaned closer to the two of them, his eyes fell on the Ouija board sitting between Lucien and Bella. Suddenly, he froze. His eyes widened, and his face twisted into a mix of shock and dread, as though he'd remembered something — an incident from years ago.
Then, in a strangely calm yet eerie way, he began to back away — one careful step after another — retreating silently to where he came from. Neither Lucien nor Bella noticed. They remained absorbed in their game, unaware that Amory — furious, shaken, and humiliated — had turned into a moving shadow of himself, desperately trying to salvage both his pride and his sanity.
---
Lucien sat on the floor, catching his breath after the session had ended. His whole body was tense. It felt as if one part of him had exploded from fear, while another was amazed at his own courage for staying until the end.
Bella, meanwhile, watched him with a soft, amused smile, laughing at his reactions — as if the whole world was nothing but a lighthearted comedy surrounding her. Then, a short silence fell between them — the kind that feels alive, as if the room itself were breathing with them.
Bella broke it with a quiet voice, not looking at him directly.
— "I know you're sad… being away from your family."
Lucien lifted his head slightly, listening to every word.
She continued,
— "But you have to learn… one day you'll be far from your family, and you'll need to get used to that feeling. I don't wish them harm, but no one ever truly rests in this life — no one knows how long they'll live."
Lucien kept listening, each word sinking into him as if touching something deep in his chest. Bella turned to him then, her smile warm and bright — her words flowing with a strange, gentle sincerity.
— "I want to be like a second family to you… so you can rest, instead of being afraid."
Lucien felt something inside him he had never known before. His face grew warm, his heart pounding hard — thump, thump — for the first time like that. His eyes shimmered with something new, something unfamiliar.
Bella stood up, picked up the Ouija board, and carried it back to the game room. When she returned, she paused by the stairs, tilting her head with a faint, goodnight smile.
— "Go to bed now. Don't stay up too late."
Then Bella climbed the stairs of the apartment, leaving Lucien sitting alone — staring at the spot where she had disappeared. He pressed his hand against his chest, over his heart, lost in thought about that strange feeling that had taken hold of him.
He wondered silently, What is this feeling? Was it just respect… or something more? Something I've never felt before?
The world around him began to fade. The wind outside, the light in the room — everything melted into the background. He was submerged in a new emotion — one that was both frightening and exhilarating.
•••
Tokyo — around midnight.
The police headquarters was wrapped in a heavy silence, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock and the droning hum of an old air conditioner.
On the third floor, inside the Chief Investigator's office, Mr. Takashi sat quietly behind his cluttered desk, buried under papers and case files. His eyes were distant, lost in thought — about the strange events of recent days, the unsolved cases, and most of all… Ryota, who still hadn't called to give his decision.
Takashi exhaled a long sigh, removed his glasses, and rubbed his temples wearily.
Suddenly, the shrill ring of the telephone sliced through the stillness. He looked at the screen — unknown number. He hesitated for a second, then picked up the receiver.
— "Hello? Who's speaking?"
No reply came immediately. Only silence… and the faint sound of breathing. Then came a voice he knew all too well — one that made him sit up straight in his chair.
— "Chief Takashi… It's me. Ryota."
Takashi's eyes widened, his voice rising in surprise.
— "Ryota?! Where have you been? I've been waiting for your call for days!"
The reply came in a calm, quiet tone — one mixed with resolve and a hint of exhaustion.
— "I've decided… I'll help you with the case. But only from a distance. I'm not returning to the field."
Takashi froze. His mind went blank. He held the receiver tightly, unable to speak, as his thoughts tried to process what he'd just heard. He stared into the empty air before him, his face pale with silent shock.
— "From a distance…?" he muttered softly, barely audible.
But the line had already gone dead.
He remained seated, the phone still in his hand, the echo of Ryota's words ringing endlessly in his ears — a decision he hadn't seen coming.
•••
The next night — deep within Okijahara Forest.
The fog was thick, wrapping around the tall trees like a grey shroud. The wind whispered between the branches, carrying secrets of the dead.
Through the suffocating stillness, came the faint, trembling sound of a man crying — a voice soaked in pain, fear, and despair.
He was in his forties, his face smeared with blood and dirt. He lay on his stomach, trembling as he dragged his mangled body across the wet ground. Blood poured from his abdomen, his legs, his right arm — pooling beneath him in a dark, heavy stain.
His voice shook as he begged,
— "Please… please forgive me… I won't do it again… just don't kill me… please…"
In front of him, on a moss-covered rock, sat a mysterious figure.
Their face was hidden by the darkness, but their lower half was faintly visible under the pale moonlight. They wore a fine suit — a blend of deep crimson and royal blue — embroidered with tiny patterns of hearts and stars.
A long black coat draped over their shoulders, the hem swaying gently in the night breeze. In their right hand, they held a black cane with a golden handle engraved with a Lily of the Valley — a symbol of innocence… and death.
Their white gloves were spotless — eerily clean, untouched by blood despite the horror before them.
The figure gazed down at the bleeding man with cold, perfect stillness. No word. No motion. No mercy.
Their mere presence made the air grow heavier, the night itself narrower.
The wounded man cried again, voice cracking with terror:
— "I swear… I swear I didn't mean to! I didn't know they were… they were children… please…"
Still, silence.
Then, at last, the figure moved. Rising slowly from the rock, they tapped the cane lightly against the ground — tap… tap… — a soft, rhythmic sound that echoed through the forest like the heartbeat of death.
Their voice came next — calm, low, and chillingly ambiguous, neither male nor female, but carrying a dreadful authority beneath its serenity:
— "Innocence cannot be forgiven… when it's trampled by lies."
They raised the cane slowly. With each inch it rose, the man's trembling worsened, his sobs breaking into hysterical cries.
But no one heard him in Aokigahara…
And no one ever leaves it.
Then came silence again.
All that remained was the faint echo of the cane striking the earth —
and the whisper of the wind… carrying with it the last breath of a soul just extinguished.
•••
The next day, around dusk,
Ryota's apartment was bathed in the orange sunlight streaming through the half-open curtains, scattering its soft warmth across the room.
Mr. Takashi sat on the grey sofa in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, holding a stack of papers in his hands, reading them with careful concentration and a heavy silence.
The place was unusually quiet—only the ticking of the wall clock and a faint breeze drifting in through the open window could be heard.
After a few minutes, the sound of cups being arranged on a tray came from the kitchen.
Ryota finally emerged, wearing a light-coloured home shirt, carrying a wooden tray with two cups of hot tea and a small plate of freshly baked cookies.
His face was calm as always, his expression showing nothing but indifference… or perhaps a kind of composed detachment.
He placed the tray on the table in front of them and sat beside Mr. Takashi without saying a word.
He handed him a cup and spoke in a quiet tone:
— "Here. Green tea. Just how you like it."
Takashi accepted the cup with a small nod of thanks, still looking at the papers.
— "I didn't expect you'd agree to meet me face to face after that last call."
Ryota took a sip of his tea, his eyes fixed on the void ahead, and said in a neutral voice:
— "I didn't agree to return. I only said I'd help… from a distance."
Takashi closed the papers slowly, placed them on the table, then turned toward him.
— "From afar, or close… doesn't matter. What matters is you're here now. That's enough."
Silence lingered between them for a while before Ryota reached for the cookie plate and took one piece.
He broke it in half quietly, then spoke in a voice that carried a certain heaviness:
— "You're still chasing the truth… even after everything, aren't you?"
Takashi smiled faintly — that tired smile that hides years of weariness — and said:
— "Yes. Some truths don't let us go until we find them, Ryota."
Again, silence filled the room. But this time, it wasn't awkward — it was the silence of two men who knew that what awaited them wouldn't be easy.
After a few moments of that weighted quiet, Ryota gently set his cup down and stood up, his tone calm yet firm:
— "Let's go. Now."
Takashi looked up, startled, his brows shooting up in disbelief.
— "Huh? Now?"
Ryota didn't answer. He simply grabbed his jacket from the sofa and said:
— "Every minute we waste might change what we'll find there."
•••
Not long after,
The scene shifted to a narrow mountain fuji road leading to Okijahara Forest.
The sky was beginning to fade into twilight, and mist slowly formed along the forest's edge — as if nature itself was warning those who dared to enter.
On the road, a black mid-sized car drove steadily ahead. It was a modern, bulletproof model — the kind used for missions where there's no room for mistakes.
Behind the wheel sat Mr. Takashi, his face tense, eyes sharp as he watched the road, the headlights cutting through the thickening dark.
Next to him, Ryota appeared relaxed, eyes fixed on his phone screen, silently following something only he knew.
Minutes passed slowly, the hum of the engine and the whistle of the wind brushing the windows were the only sounds that broke the quiet.
Takashi finally spoke, adjusting the radio:
— "Are you sure this is the right road?"
Ryota answered without looking up:
— "Exactly. Around forty minutes left."
Takashi sighed, half anxious, half sarcastic:
— "Okijahara Forest. At night. Perfect choice as always."
Ryota smirked faintly, still looking at his phone, and said coolly:
— "Sometimes… darkness is the only place where light hides."
Takashi glanced at him for a few seconds — unsure if he was being serious or just poetic — then returned his focus to the road.
The car continued winding through the foggy turns, the air growing heavier, the mood darker the closer they got to the forest — the one no one leaves the same.
After nearly two hours of almost complete silence, the forest finally came into view — towering, twisted trees, roots tangled like serpents, and branches so dense they seemed to swallow the sky.
The air grew thicker, and the fog blanketed the ground like a heavy grey veil.
Takashi slowed the car, his voice tight with unease:
— "This area's restricted after dark… no one dares to enter it at this hour."
Ryota, staring out the window at the living darkness, replied:
— "That's exactly why we're here."
The car stopped at a narrow entryway, where a tilted sign stood with faint, worn writing:
> "Okijahara Forest — Do not enter after sunset."
Takashi studied the sign and muttered bitterly:
— "Looks like they didn't write that for nothing."
Ryota stepped out of the car, closing the door softly behind him.
He took a deep breath of the cold, damp air and said quietly:
— "Do you smell that?... Blood. And wet wood. Something happened here — recently."
A chill ran through Takashi's body. He grabbed his flashlight, turned it on, and followed Ryota into the trees.
Each step made a muffled crunch over the damp carpet of fallen leaves, and the darkness slowly devoured the horizon.
Takashi whispered:
— "Are we looking for a body… or a person?"
Ryota didn't look back.
— "For the truth."
As they went deeper, Takashi noticed something strange a few meters ahead — dark shapes across the forest floor.
He bent down to inspect and shone the light closer.
What he saw made his stomach drop —
a long drag mark, as if a heavy body had been pulled through the earth, disappearing into the depths of the forest.
Takashi froze.
— "Ryota… this is fresh. The blood hasn't dried yet."
Ryota smiled faintly — a smile that promised nothing good — and said:
— "Then… we're not too late."
He continued walking steadily into the forest's heart, leaving Takashi to catch up behind him.
The wind began to howl through the trees, its whistle twisting into a whisper…
as if the forest itself was speaking — in the language of death.
---
The two of them ventured deeper and deeper into the forest.
The fog had grown so thick that the flashlight's beam looked like a frail thread lost in an ocean of shadows.
The ground was damp, and the air was a choking mix of mold, earth, and iron — the scent of old blood.
Their footsteps were cautious, and with every meter they covered, the traces became clearer… until the path itself seemed painted in dark crimson.
Suddenly, Mr. Takashi stopped and pointed the flashlight to the left side of the trail, gasping softly:
— "Oh my God…"
Ryota looked up — and saw it.
Bodies. Hanging from the branches by frayed ropes.
Some half-decomposed, others disturbingly fresh.
The scene was silent… unbearably silent.
Even the air seemed to stop moving — as if the forest itself were holding its breath, out of respect for the dead… or delight in them.
Takashi's voice trembled:
— "They… they took their own lives. Just like they say about this cursed forest."
Ryota replied coldly, his tone detached and eerie:
— "Suicide? No… not a chance. Look closely. The bodies are too close together. Someone arranged them like this."
Takashi froze, then slowly turned the beam toward the ground again.
The long trail of blood continued, weaving between the corpses, stretching into a deep, lightless void.
He said, uneasy:
— "The blood looks fresh… Someone must've been bleeding here not long ago."
Ryota's voice sharpened:
— "Follow it."
They pressed on, the dreadful quiet broken only by the sound of their footsteps and their ragged breathing.
After walking a considerable distance, the trail stopped — in front of a strange-looking cave.
Its opening looked like the gaping mouth of a beast, smiling mockingly into the darkness.
The inside was so black that the moment the flashlight beam hit it, the light simply vanished — swallowed whole.
The two men exchanged tense looks.
Takashi swallowed hard and said:
— "It's deep… We should come back tomorrow with backup. Going in now would be suicide."
Ryota stayed silent for a few seconds, staring into the cave with eyes full of uncertainty and thought.
Then, suddenly, his tone shifted — firm, decisive, the one Takashi knew all too well:
— "No. If we come back tomorrow, there'll be nothing left. This forest devours everything — every clue, every trace. We go now."
Takashi tried to protest, but Ryota had already started walking toward the entrance, his voice fading into the darkness:
— "Stay close. Don't lose the light!"
Takashi sighed deeply, glancing around — the trees seemed to be watching him with hollow eyes.
He muttered to himself in frustration:
— "This lunatic is going to get me killed one day…"
He gripped his flashlight tightly and ran after Ryota, his footsteps echoing through the cavern,
the darkness swallowing them both, inch by inch…
And the last sound heard before their lights vanished completely
was the steady drip of blood onto the stone floor —
like the ticking of a clock that had just begun its countdown to death.
To be continued…
Hey everyone! 👋
I've been away for a short while, but I'm back now!
So, what did you think of the new chapter? ✨
I've just finished writing Chapter Eight, which means only two more chapters left before the end of Volume One! 📖
I've been wondering lately — should the movie adaptation that comes in Volume Two be split into two parts or four? 🤔
If I make it two, it'll be way too long; but if I divide it into four, it'll flow more evenly — and honestly, I think that's the better choice right now.
Did you enjoy this chapter?
Thanks for all your support as always 🙂👍
See you soon! 👋