A bolt of lightning split the sky above the Hawthornes Estate. Rain pitter-pattered against the towering windows as branching veins of silver light spread across the dark sky. Soft footsteps echoed through the silent halls, accompanied by the faint creaks of an old house settling into the storm. 

The beam from Liam’s phone swept across the polished floor, casting long, wavering shadows along the corridor. Despite the eerie surroundings, Liam remained unfazed. His expression never changed, and his stride never faltered. But his heart jolted the moment the grandfather clock downstairs, standing at the end of the hall, released a deep, resonant chime. 

What the fuck…that damn clock, Liam thought as his eyes grew wide in surprise. Once. Twice. Three times. That his heart thumped three times, too. 

For a brief moment, the mansion seemed to hold its breath, as though something ancient had awakened with the twelfth stroke. The shadows between the doors appeared unnaturally deep, as though they concealed spaces larger than the rooms beyond. Every closed door looked identical, and each one seemed to hold its breath as he passed. 

The beam from his phone flickered strangely before plunging the hallway into darkness. 

“What now?” Liam muttered under his breath. 

Keeping his composure, he tapped the phone against his left palm, hoping to coax the light back to life. He was only twenty steps from his room. Twenty steps, and he could forget the storm and the unsettling silence that lingered throughout the estate. 

The phone’s torch light sputtered and returned. But Liam froze the moment he saw a door creak somewhere ahead. 

It stood slightly ajar, spilling a warm glow into the corridor. His gaze narrowed. The room was further beyond Anton's door, deep within the estate's eastern wing.

That shouldn't be possible. No one was permitted beyond that part of the mansion. So why was the door open? Liam thought of himself. A knot formed in his stomach. At this hour, the servants should have been asleep in their quarters long ago. Yet the light remained. And despite every sensible reason to turn away, curiosity tugged at him. 

Before he realized it, his feet had already taken a step toward the open door. 

He just passed by Anton’s room door as if he didn’t need any help. Even though his chest was pounding, he didn’t let fright take over him. 

Meanwhile, Anton was getting ready to sleep. He walked over to the windows to close the curtains, but paused for a moment. His eyes lingered on the dark sky, where flashes of lightning tore through the clouds and thunder rumbled in the distance. 

This weather feels strange, he thought, with an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. “Why do I feel like something’s not right?” he murmured. Pushing the thought aside, he slid the curtains shut. 

The flickering candlelight cast his shadow across the wall, making it stretch and sway with every dancing flame from the hearth. 

Liam gulped softly as his right foot stepped inside the bright room. 

The furniture was covered with white sheets, as though to protect it from dust. Yet the room smelled faintly muggy, as if it had been sealed for years. 

“Who could have left the lights on?” He mumbled, frowning as his gaze wandered around the room until it landed on a piece of furniture that wasn’t covered. 

It was a looking glass made of polished wood, its frame decorated with delicate carvings that gave it an antique charm. Standing sideview, he could see his own reflection clearly in the mirror. There was nothing unusual about it. To Liam, it was just an ordinary antique piece.  

As another thunder struck the Hawthorne Estate, the lights suddenly went out. 

“What the―” he mumbled, looking around. The room sank into a dim twilight, shadows swallowing the edges of everything around him. 

When he moved forward, his right foot stepped onto something uneven on the floor. His eye glanced down. He shone his phone’s light at his feet and saw an old notebook lying on the floor. 

Huh? A notebook? He thought, and his pounding heart remained calm. 

As Liam bent down to pick up the weathered notebook, another man’s figure appeared in the looking glass. He wore a Barong Tagalog, and the embroidery looked intricate under the twilight. A faint smile rested on his lips. He looked strangely calm, as if he had waited for years to meet his soulmate finally. 

But when Liam faced the mirror, the man disappeared, with Liam’s reflection. 

Staring at the aged notebook, Liam felt a flicker of curiosity. He slowly opened it. And the first page was written: 

My Dearest Juan,

By the time you read this, time has already passed. 

Through those times of loneliness, I couldn’t bear the fact that I chose to save my life over yours. 

I was selfish, and I am forever unforgivable. So never, forgive me. 

But before everything else would disappear, there were things I couldn’t let go…just yet.

My dear Juan, have you ever believed in the old tales that at midnight, strange things appear just beyond our sight? 

They say spirits lingered, bound by unfinished business and yearning to escape the darkness. My old folks believed this long ago, and even today, that belief stays quietly within us.

When you face a timeworn mirror while holding a lit white candle, and whisper your heart’s desire, fate will come to you in the most mysterious ways.

Have you ever tried it? 

Because I did―

Your Beloved, 

Mathias

Liam knitted his brow. It was the only page inscribed with words in the timeworn diary, as if it had slumbered for centuries. The faded letters clung to the paper like ghosts. With a thumping, confused heart, he turned the pages until the very last piece of the weathered paper, almost as an afterthought, which was written as: 366 days.

“366 days? What does that even mean?” He mumbled. Curiosity crept in further within him. 

A flash of lightning lit up the sky as Liam spotted faint, curved writing on the edge of the yellowed page. He winced, trying to make it out, then read it aloud. 

Through…the glass of truth, hear my plea. 

Unveil the path…written upon my…heart

Let tomorrow’s face rise…f-from the dark. 

And let the love…foretold…by d-destiny stand before me.

Liam felt strange as he raised his right brow. “Is this some kind of a riddle?” He muttered. But when he met his eyes in the looking glass, his reflection rippled like the surface of disturbed water. Then the man appeared, smiling and called his name. 

“Juan,”

― This is the end of Season 1 ―