One

Chapter One

PRESENT DAY

- NICOLETTE OLIVEROS’S POV -

It felt uneasy after setting foot back in a place where I had disappeared for a decade. Who would have thought that I would be coming back here after a bitter departure, believing that the view I had in my mind would be the last in my memories?

The scent of earth clinging to the foggy mist enveloping the streets brought back countless memories—some I wanted to cherish and others I wanted to completely erase from my mind.

I almost got lost while heading to my father's old house, considering how the city had evolved—concrete roads, traffic lights, newly built houses, unfamiliar faces, and streetlights that were only active during the evening. Busy hours seemed to heavily occupy the streets with the bustling sounds of cars and people walking on the sidewalks.

Everything had completely changed except for the mayor of this city, who had been sitting in his position for, I thought, more than a decade.

However, that didn't erase the fact that this was the place where I lost both of my parents—my mom, who disappeared without a trace during my younger years, and my father, who was just recently found dead in the woods, the reason why I came back here.

Settling his affairs was my top priority, and after that, I planned to vanish, swearing to God never to come back here again and continue my life as an illustrator overseas.

Or so I thought. I guessed the heavens had their own plans for my return.

My eyes almost dropped to the ground, and my body froze when I arrived at Dad’s house. It was a total mess. Outside the house were tons of unpleasant and disgusting vandalism: Oliveros's curse, beast blood, monsters—name it all for all I damn care. Weren't they done with this bullshit curse? I wondered what kind of hell Dad went through all these years.

Though the lawn was already covered with tall grass, I still remembered how I used to play here—running and rolling when it was raining, having outdoor picnics and tea parties with my dad, and asking him to dress as a knight while I was his princess. Those days were gold, but now only memories remain.

Even though Dad had lived here, I guessed he had a terrible sense of maintaining the lawn. I silently chuckled thinking about it.

The old wooden door creaked when I opened it. To my surprise, the house was still the same as when I left; it felt like time had stopped here. I scanned the entire place, and nothing had really changed. I heard the cracking of the wooden floor as I took slow steps toward the only room I knew, Dad's room. This had also become my room when I turned 10, and Dad used to sleep on the couch.

Each step reminded me of how Dad pretended to be a ghost during the evening, just to get me to sleep early. Laughing about it just made me miss him more. I hoped he didn't think badly of me when I left.

I really didn't understand, but something felt off in this room. I had a weird feeling, yet I couldn't define what it was. It was giving me chills. My sight landed on the bedside table as if it was inviting me to come closer. I pulled open the drawer and found a couple of Dad's things, maybe his journals.

Remembering how he used to rant about writing journals made me wonder why he had them. Perhaps the loneliness of having no one else to talk to every passing day was killing him. Despite my busy schedule, I tried my best to always keep in touch with him.

I was worried about what kind of life Dad had when I left the city after seeing a lot of bullshit written outside, so I decided to read what was written in the journals, hoping that I wouldn’t find anything about strangers harassing him in the house.

The bed squeaked when I sat. The foam was as comfortable as always, like I wanted to sleep now, after a long flight and not enough rest. The nostalgia in this house just hit me like a boulder, making me start to regret why I chose to have my life overseas, if I could have had it here with my dad.

Oh no, this was not a good idea. My whole body was weakening, my limbs were losing their strength, and my eyelids were getting heavy. Meanwhile, my mind was protesting reading what was written in this journal. I leaned my back on the pillow and opened one of Dad's journals. There were three of them, and I put down the other two next to me.

I narrowed my eyes as I tried to read Dad's handwriting; his cursive writing was really difficult to read, like reading a doctor's prescription.

Now I got it. Maybe Dad’s handwriting was what made him hate writing journals.

It was only a couple of sentences, yet my eyes were already stinging, my vision was getting blurry, and the corners of my eyes were getting wet. The words were illegible now, which made it even harder for me to read.

I forced my eyes to broaden. It was probably due to my late-night work and too much exposure to my laptop that I couldn't keep up reading a written text.

However, I felt uneasy. A mist was spiraling around my limbs, and my body completely froze. My breath caught in my throat as my lips parted. What was happening now? I was unable to feel my body anymore.

I knew I screamed, and it was strange that I was unable to hear even the lowest tone of my voice. Furthermore, I felt the mist spiraling up to my chest; my heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it would come out of my chest; my palms were sweating. And the most terrifying part was something blocking my throat so that I couldn't breathe in.