AVA
The breathing behind me isn't that of a ghost. It's too heavy, too alive. I grip the keys between my knuckles, like makeshift knuckledusters, and whirl around, ready to strike low.
The shadow doesn't retreat. The dim light of the room illuminates a profile I know all too well, but I haven't seen like this in years.
It's Uncle Jong-Dong.
But he's not the arrogant man from the living room; here, between the peeling attic walls, he looks like a predator in his own territory.
"You've always had your father's nose, Ava. I knew you'd find the 'source' before anyone else."
His voice is a slimy whisper.
He takes a step forward and I notice he's holding a tablet.
On the screen, divided into small squares, are the footage from the cameras throughout the house.
I see Roori.
I see Min-Jun.
"What do you want, Jong-Dong? If you're here to finish me, do it quickly. I don't have time for your B-list villain monologues."
He chuckles, a dry sound.
"Finish you? You're the only funny thing in this mausoleum. Look at them..." He points to the screen where the cousins are arguing in the hallway. "They're looking for gold, jewels, stocks. They don't understand that my father didn't leave any money. He left secrets. And secrets weigh more than gold."
He approaches the broken aquarium and runs a hand over it.
"Your father, Tae-Hyun, was the favorite. Even in death, he continues to torment us with his memories. This room... was his private office. Old Kim never closed it. He sealed it like a tomb."
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, keeping my guard up. "You hated him. You tried to erase every trace of us."
My uncle turns around, and for a moment I see a flash of pure terror in his eyes.
It's not fear of me.
It's fear of something bigger.
"I'm not the shadow in this house, Ava. I'm just someone trying to stay out of the storm. If you want to save your sister, stop looking for the exit. Start looking for the 'director.'"
He throws me something.
I catch it: it's a small black remote control.
"The photo of the trout," he says, pointing to my father's painting. "Don't look at the fish. Look at the water."
Before I can answer, he disappears through a second retractable panel I hadn't noticed.
I'm left alone, my heart pounding like a drum.
I walk closer to the photo.
I look at the lake water in the shot.
In one corner, almost invisible, there's a reflection on the surface of the water.
It's not a tree.
It's a window.
The window of a room in the villa that shouldn't exist.
I point the remote at the panel and press the only button.
An electrical hum fills the room.
The bottom of the broken aquarium begins to slide, revealing not a treasure, but a lit monitor.
A message dated today, 10:15 AM, appears on the screen.
"Welcome home, Ava. Your first test begins now. Don't trust anyone who cries over an empty coffin."
I feel my knees buckle.
Grandpa.
He's not in hell.
He's here.
And he's watching us die of fear for his amusement.