He had thrown away the doll; who would have thought that when he would return...the sofa lay overturned, its legs jutting awkwardly into the air as if it had been flung aside in rage?
Broken glass from the shattered lights crunched faintly underfoot, and the ceiling fan hung motionless, its blades stiff and lifeless.
It was a scene of complete chaos.
Baron stood frozen at the entrance, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Even he, who had tried to steel himself for this, felt fear clawing at his spine.
But what terrified him the most...was the doll. Sitting right in the center of the living room.
Perfectly still. As if waiting. As if mocking him. ’I threw you away... I got rid of you ...’
Yet here it was again.
A cold shiver ran down his back. His fingers trembled slightly as he clenched his fists. ’No matter what I do... I can’t escape it ...’
That was when his hunt truly began.
Now, staring at the doll, Baron slowly reached into his pocket and took out the talisman. The paper felt slightly rough against his skin, faint warmth lingering within it.
He recalled the instructions clearly. "Just wave it in the air." ...’
Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand. And waved it.
For a split second... nothing happened. Then...the talisman shimred.
A faint golden glow spread across its surface, growing brighter and brighter until it almost hurt to look at. Baron’s eyes widened as the air around him seed to vibrate.
The talisman slipped from his fingers. And floated.
Slowly... deliberately... it drifted toward the doll before landing right in front of it. The next instant...a shriek.
A piercing, blood-curdling scream exploded in the air, so loud it felt as though it was right beside his ear, yet at the sa ti distant, echoing from sowhere far beyond.
Baron staggered slightly, his hands flying to his ears. "Ah!"
The sound was filled with agony. With resentnt. With rage that had festered for far too long.
’It’s working... it’s actually working ...’
Before his eyes, the doll began to tremble. Then... flas erupted.
Not ordinary flas, but sothing pale and eerie, licking across the doll’s surface without spreading anywhere else.
The fabric curled and blackened, the face twisting unnaturally as if sothing within was struggling to escape.
The shriek grew louder. More desperate. More furious. Until it stopped.
The doll collapsed into ashes. Complete. Utter. Gone.
Baron’s breath hitched as he stared, his heart pounding wildly against his ribs.
But it wasn’t over yet. The talisman...it didn’t disappear. Instead, it suddenly ignited.
The paper burned rapidly, turning into fine ash that drifted down, rging with the remains of the doll. For a brief mont, the ashes swirled together, as if caught in an invisible current.
Then...they scattered. Vanished into the air. Leaving behind nothing but a faint, burnt sll that lingered in the silence.
Baron stood there, stunned. Seconds passed. Then minutes.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and slowly looked around. The oppressive weight that had once filled the room was gone.
Tentatively, he called out, his voice low and uncertain, "Enzo...?"
Silence. He waited. Nothing. "Enzo..." he tried again, a little louder this ti.
Still nothing. Finally, his shoulders slumped as he let out a long, shaky breath. ’It’s over ...’
Over the next two days, Baron remained cautious. He watched. He listened. He waited. But nothing happened.
The cold presence that once lingered around him had disappeared completely. No more strange noises. No more inexplicable accidents or streaks of bad luck.
His house felt...normal. For the first ti in a long ti. Relief washed over him like a tide, leaving him almost lightheaded. ’It’s really gone ...’
Overwheld with gratitude and excitent, he imdiately left a review.
A long one.
"The talisman works," he wrote, his hands moving quickly across the keyboard. "I only used one, and it completely dealt with the entity. Worth every penny."
He even ntioned that he had bought two talismans but only needed one, keeping the second as a safeguard.
"I finally feel safe."
He didn’t stop there. He recomnded it to friends. To family. Anyone who might need it.
anwhile, four days later, Lana read the review.
A faint smile appeared on her lips as her eyes moved across the screen. A strange warmth filled her chest, sothing unfamiliar yet deeply satisfying.
To create sothing with her own hands. And have it help soone. Her gaze lingered for a mont before shifting.
Work awaited.
She glanced at the task board, her expression sharpening slightly. Recently, her progress had reached a critical point, just one step away from the Heaven Rank.
That thought alone filled her with excitent. ’I just need one more push ...’
Several cases were listed. Each one is more dangerous than the last. All of them involved spirits that were at least 150 to 200 years old.
Lana took a deep breath. And chose one. A 175-year-old ghost.
The case file detailed a mansion located in a suburban area, owned by a wealthy man. Under normal circumstances, the property could easily generate $20,000 per month, nearly $240,000 annually.
But now...it stood empty. Haunted. No one dared to rent it.
The owner had fallen into severe financial trouble because of it, forced to use his connections to list the case on Shadowridge University’s task board.
The mont he learned that Lana had accepted it, he arranged a eting that very evening.
When Lana arrived, she found a middle-aged man waiting for her.
He had a potbelly, his posture slightly hunched, and deep wrinkles etched across his face, marks of a life filled with stress and hardship.
He greeted her with a flattering smile. "Miss Lana... thank you for taking this case."
Lana gave a small nod. "Tell everything."
As they spoke, they made their way toward the mansion.
By the ti they arrived, Lana had already pieced together most of the situation.
"This wasn’t originally a haunted house, was it?" she murmured, glancing at the structure.
The man sighed. "No... it wasn’t."
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