Heavy—as if the ceiling itself were pressing down on her chest.
Elizabeth lay on her bed, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. One hand was clenched tightly in her hair, gripping until her scalp throbbed with pain.
Nilmin is here.
She was certain.
A certainty that left no room for doubt.
She slowly sat up, her breathing uneven. Pressing a palm to her forehead, she began pacing the room back and forth, her steps careful—quiet enough not to wake Lucy.
“It’s impossible to hallucinate an entire person…”
she whispered to herself, biting down on her thumb.
Her mind spiraled into chaos.
First possibility:
Adrian is a killer. That much is undeniable.
Second possibility:
He isn’t just a killer—he’s a magician.
But what kind of magic is this?
Not the magic of killing…
but the magic of erasure.
Erasing a person.
Their name.
Their traces.
Their very existence from everyone’s memory.
She stopped abruptly in the middle of the room.
Her eyes widened.
“…Wait.”
She slapped one palm against the other.
“So that means—”
A short, tense smile tugged at her lips. Slightly unhinged.
“That means I rattled him.”
She took a step forward. Then another.
As if the thought itself had injected her veins with fresh energy.
“If I weren’t dangerous… he wouldn’t have needed to erase Nilmin completely.”
She lifted her chin with childish pride.
“Oh, Elizabeth… you’re amazing.”
But the pride faded quickly.
A chill seeped into her bones.
Because the next thought was far worse.
If he can erase others…
then he can erase me too.
She moved toward the wardrobe to change, her movements silent. Carefully, she slipped out of her dress, unaware that she was left standing in nothing but black undergarments—her mind was far away.
She opened one of the drawers.
Stopped.
There was an old book inside.
Its leather was cracked, its edges yellowed, as if time itself had gnawed at it.
She pulled it out slowly.
On the cover, written in faded ink:
“Elizabeth’s Diary”
She froze.
“…Elizabeth?”
Her fingers traced the name.
A strange sensation bloomed in her chest—like touching someone she had never met… and yet somehow knew.
She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the first page.
The handwriting was elegant.
Neat.
Nothing like hers.
Third day in service at the manor.
The young master didn’t look at me again.
That’s for the best.
Looking at him unsettles me.
Elizabeth frowned.
“…Is this… the real Elizabeth’s diary?”
She flipped the page quickly.
Lady Joan is harsh in her words, but fair.
I’m afraid of disappointing her.
Her eyes widened.
“Afraid?
I barely fear death.”
She kept reading. The pages blurred past, her heartbeat quickening with every line.
I hate my voice.
I hate how thin I am.
I wish I could disappear and go unnoticed.
She stopped.
A sharp ache pierced her chest.
This was Eliz…
the original maid.
Quiet.
Broken.
Desperate to be invisible.
Elizabeth closed the book slowly.
She placed her palm on its cover.
“…Don’t worry. No one will pay attention to you anymore.”
She lifted her head, eyes glinting in the darkness.
“The former Elizabeth… is gone.”
She swallowed.
Was I… replaced by her?
She trembled.
Silence crept back in.
An uncomfortable silence…
the kind that comes before a storm.
As Elizabeth clutched the diary to her chest, she heard the whisper.
“…Elizabeth.”
She stiffened.
Her eyes widened slowly as she lifted her head, scanning the corners of the room—the shadows piled along the walls, the closed door, the window.
Nothing.
She swallowed.
“…Hallucinations,”
she muttered, forcing a mocking tone into her voice.
She slid the diary back into the drawer, shut the wardrobe firmly, then changed into her nightwear—as if doing so might restore order to the world.
She lay down, pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, and stared at the ceiling.
“Life really is hard…”
The words were bitter as she turned onto her side.
Her black hair spilled across the pillow.
Her breathing began to steady.
Then—
Everything stopped.
A sudden cold brushed her shoulder.
Cold—
not like air.
She slowly placed a hand on her shoulder.
Lowered her gaze.
And saw—
A black, misty hand.
Incomplete.
Like thick smoke forced into the shape of fingers.
She gasped.
She leapt from the bed as if struck by electricity, spinning around, her heart pounding violently in her chest.
Nothing.
The room was the same.
The bed.
The wardrobe.
The shadows—still.
Silence.
Then—
“Kill…”
The whisper returned.
Closer.
Clearer.
Her body trembled.
Cold crawled up her arms, along her neck, as if someone were breathing dead air into her ear.
“Kill them…”
She clutched her head with both hands.
“No. No, no, no…”
she muttered, staggering back a step.
“This is a prank.
Yes… a prank.”
That voice—
It was older.
Heavier.
Carrying a hatred not aimed at a person… but at the world itself.
She backed up until her spine hit the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Hallucinations…”
she repeated, as if repetition could make it true.
But the whisper didn’t stop.
“Kill…
Kill before you’re erased.”
She moved toward the source of the voice.
Her steps were slow…
shaking…
as if the ground itself refused to support her.
The voice was clear now.
It was coming from the wardrobe.
Her wardrobe… and Lucy’s.
She stopped in front of it.
She trembled, pressed her lips together tightly, and slowly raised her hand—her fingers stiff and numb.
Nothing…
There’s nothing…
Maybe it’s Krista’s prank… yes… that makes sense…
She repeated it in her head dozens of times, until she almost believed it.
Then—
She yanked the wardrobe open all at once.
Empty.
Nothing.
Just their hanging clothes…
Elizabeth’s dresses, Lucy’s outfits.
Fabric still and lifeless.
No trace of anything strange.
She stared for a moment… then let out a long breath.
“…What was that?”
She scoffed weakly.
“Obviously hallucinations.”
Her eyes half-closed.
Then—
“Elizabeth…”
She froze.
Her eyes widened slightly as she swallowed with difficulty.
Her heart thundered, but her mind clung desperately to what little composure remained.
Calm down…
Calm down…
She lifted her hand and pushed the clothes aside, exposing the wall behind them.
And in the next instant—
Her entire body went rigid.
A horrific scream tore out of her chest.
She collapsed violently to the floor, her back slamming against it, her body shaking uncontrollably.
On the wall—
A massive magic circle.
Drawn in blood.
Twisted sigils.
Inhuman symbols.
Lines that looked more like screams than writing.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
The limbs.
Nilmin’s limbs…
embedded into the circle.
Her arms.
Her legs—
nailed into the wall as if they were part of the spell itself.
Her eye sockets—
gone.
Two black, horrifying voids.
And her head—
Hanging.
Tilting slightly…
Then—
It slowly turned.
The pupil—
the one that should not have existed—
Locked directly onto Elizabeth.
It smiled.
“Kill him… Eliz.”
Her voice came out broken—
then suddenly—
A scream.
A demonic, insane, piercing scream that stabbed straight into Elizabeth’s mind.
“KI—LL—HIM!”
The scream was inside her head.
Inside her skull.
Elizabeth screamed too—a hysterical scream tangled with sobs, denial, and desperate pleading.
“No! No! Stay away! Stop! I don’t want to! I don’t waaaant to!”
Her body convulsed violently, her hands shielding her head, breath shattered, tears pouring without control.
And suddenly—
Arms wrapped around her.
“Eliz! Eliz! Look at me!”
Lucy.
She was holding her tightly, pressing Elizabeth’s head to her chest. Her voice was steady despite the fear.
“Calm down… calm down… there’s nothing… there’s nothing here…”
Elizabeth pointed with a trembling hand toward the wardrobe.
“Th-there! Nilmin! The blood! The circle! She’s there!”
Lucy looked.
The wardrobe was open.
The wall—normal.
No blood.
No sigils.
No body.
No head.
Nothing.
Lucy swallowed and turned back to Elizabeth, tightening her embrace.
“Eliz… there’s nothing there,”
she said firmly.
“Believe me… there’s nothing at all.”
But Elizabeth—
Was still trembling.
And her eyes, fixed on the empty space—
knew.
That what she had seen…
was not a hallucination.
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