Chapter 3I Spent the Night in a "Haunted Mansion," and Woke Up to This Comment: "Run, Get Out Now!"

I froze, gripping the note tightly in my sweaty palm.

A prank. This had to be some kind of prank!

I rushed back upstairs to the second floor and flung open the wardrobe. Fear was the last thing on my mind—I was furious. Without thinking, I grabbed the doll in its flower-patterned dress.

Its glassy black eyes seemed to flicker for a moment. Something fell out from underneath its dress—a journal.

I tossed the doll back into the wardrobe and unfolded the journal.

The handwriting inside was the same elegant script as the note I’d just found.

The first entry was dated May 18 of last year.

“I’m so excited. But I’ve already spent an entire day in this so-called haunted house, and nothing has happened.”

The next entry came on May 19.

“Slept like a baby. I wonder if anything interesting will happen today?”

Page after page, the entries described uneventful days.

From the tone of the writing, the journal’s author was growing increasingly frustrated, clearly starting to doubt the mansion’s reputation as “haunted.”

Was she also hired to test this house, just like me?

If someone else had already tested the house last year, why did they hire me to do it again?

That man who hired me… he never mentioned this.

My stomach churned as a chilling thought crossed my mind.

Did something happen to her during the trial? Did she fail to complete her stay?

I flipped to the entry dated June 3. My hands began to tremble.

“I keep feeling like someone’s been moving my things. Am I imagining it?”

June 5:

“I keep hearing noises outside my room, but when I check, there’s nothing there. I must be going crazy from being cooped up here for so long.”

No. It wasn’t her imagination.

I’ve been hearing those noises too.

I frantically flipped through the pages, desperate to find something useful.

“I heard the wardrobe open. But when I looked inside, there was nothing. How did it open by itself?”

“I’m starting to feel scared. The power went out.”

The blood drained from my face. My fingers trembled as I turned the page.

The date of the entry? The 26th day of her stay.

The same day as today.

The same power outage.

This wasn’t a coincidence. It was deliberate.

My breath hitched as I read further.

“The landline is useless. It doesn’t connect to anything. I tried to leave, but the front door is locked! That man lied to me!”

Locked? That couldn’t be true.

I bolted downstairs, cold sweat dripping down my face. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it.

It didn’t budge.

The door was locked.

Even if I’d wanted to leave today—regardless of the money—I couldn’t.

A wave of cold washed over my back. My chest tightened as I gulped hard and shakily returned to the journal, determined to keep reading.

“This is insane! They told me the power would be out for five days! I’ve been tricked!”

“I’m terrified. That room next to me—the one that’s supposed to be locked—how is it possible that there’s someone in there? I can hear scratching noises coming from the walls!”

The journal ended there.

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I gripped the journal tightly. Why did it stop?

Did she leave the mansion?

Or did something happen to her before she could write more?

A crushing sense of dread settled over me. No. This can’t be the end of the journal. There has to be more!

Just as I was about to turn the next page, the landline phone on the second floor started ringing.

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