Outside his door, he heard footsteps—he recognized Jolof returning from an evening errand into town. The front door had been propped open on its rusty hinge, and the fading orange glow from a distant streetlamp spilled into the hallway. Jolof's tall silhouette filled a narrow sliver of light as he removed his work gloves, tossing them onto a bench in the foyer.
Lufe waited until Jolof passed to his own room before peeking out. The corridor was silent now, except for the soft hum of the wind against the house exterior. He padded across the floor in his socks, avoiding the creaky boards near the center. Reaching the foyer, he lowered his voice. "Jolof?"
Jolof turned, his face weary. His shirt was buttoned only halfway now, revealing a t-shirt stained with sweat.
"You still awake?" he asked.
Lufe nodded, shifting from foot to foot. "I wanted to call Mum and Merry... and Jess. They're probably worried."
He retrieved his phone and pressed Mum's contact. A few rings later, the call connected.
"Hello?" came his mother's voice—nervous, tired. Lufe's heart constricted.
Their mother, Selena had kept a fragile calm throughout their separation from Jolof, as though moving between two fractured families had always been a balancing act. But now, her voice trembled just slightly.
"Mum," he said softly, "I'm okay. I'm really okay."
On the other end, Selena clutched the phone to her chest. Through the quiver in her voice, he could imagine her pacing the living room. "Sweetheart, are you sure? I heard rumors—about that house. About strange things. You and Jolof… Are you safe? Are you sleeping in the same room? I keep thinking about you lying there alone on that cold marble floor."
Lufe forced a gentle laugh.
"Mum, it's only been a few nights. The rooms upstairs are colder, so we're camped out together. We talk about repair plans, and Jolof keeps me company. I promise, I'm fine."
His mother's exhale sounded almost like a sob. "I miss you so much. I miss seeing your face. Merry and Jess keep asking, 'When is Lufe coming back?' They're worried. I'm worried. You know how Jess gets frightened at the slightest noise."
"I know," Lufe said, glancing down at the floor, remembering the sticky hush that followed the discovery of the child's drawing. "I'll come home soon. Once we get this place in order and make it livable, I'll find a way to visit." He hesitated, recalling how his own sister Merry had taught him to tie his shoelaces when he was nine. That small act felt like yesterday, not nine years ago.
"I know," his mother said, voice softer. "Just… please be careful. Take two blankets, at least. Stop by the neighbor's house if it gets too chilly at night. I'll send you some money—it's not much, but maybe you can buy extra wood to brace that broken window."
Lufe nodded, though she couldn't see him. "Thank you, Mum. I'll let you know tomorrow when I go to school. I love you."
"I love you too, my son." She ended the call, and for a moment, the room felt emptier. Lufe closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath. He wondered for a fleeting second whether his mother believed him, or if her fear had grown too large to be calmed by mere words.
He ended the call and returned to the cot. Pulling the thin blanket over his legs, he stared at the cracked ceiling, thinking of his sisters and the teddy bear he'd found in that old closet. He wondered if the child in the drawing had had a mother or a father, or if he—or she—had ever found a way home.
The following morning, Lufe held his phone beneath his pillow so that the wake-up alarm would rattle him at dawn. He dressed quickly in his customary tunic and trousers.
Once Jolof was brewing a pot of tea in what must have been a long-abandoned kitchen on the ground floor, Lufe found a quiet corner near the broken stained-glass window and texted Hou-min: "Do you have time to talk?"
Minutes later, the phone vibrated. "Always for you. Call?"
He tapped "Call" and brought the phone to his ear. The familiar Bluetooth click signaled that the call had connected. Almost immediately, Hou-min's voice came through, bright and lively.
"Yo! How's my favorite comrade in arms? How's life in the scary haunted mansion?"
Lufe managed a small laugh, sinking onto a low step. "Haunted might be an understatement."
He took a slow sip of lukewarm tea that Jolof had brought him, steeling himself. "I saw… something yesterday. In that hallway past the small chapel. A child's drawing on the wall—like a man holding a kid's hand. It said, 'Let's go home.' I think it's just a prank, though. But… I don't know."
Hou-min exhaled sharply. "Dude, that's chilling. Who do you think made it? Kids who got in there to gossip or explore? I know the rumors about the church priest murdering parishioners—maybe the orphans who came afterward?" His voice dropped. "Man, it makes me think of those old stories where ghosts linger in places like that."
Lufe's fingers traced the rim of his clay mug. "I told myself it was nothing. I scrubbed it off. But… it was so precise. The handwriting was tiny, like a child's. And now I keep imagining that the child was calling for someone."
"Maybe," Hou-min began slowly, "it's just someone messing with you. But you need to be careful. Don't wander down that corridor alone. Take a friend—Jolof, maybe. Or text me if you—" His tone lightened. "Look, I don't want to freak you out, but do you have any other weird occurrences?"
Lufe hesitated, remembering the wind in his room at night, the whisper of something like a voice calling out softly—but he didn't mention that. Instead, he forced a smile into his voice. "Not yet. Just that drawing. I'll keep you updated." He shifted his posture, noticing how tight his chest felt. "How are things with you? How's the drama you mentioned? The new season of 'Terrifying Dragon Emperor'?"
Lufe still hadn't watched the series. Hou-min brightened immediately.
"Man, it's incredible. They finally got the sword-fighting choreography right, and the cinematography—Wow. I told you, the Dragon Emperor is way more terrifying in live action. Plus, our boy Gu Caoxian actually looks like they described him in the novel—broad shoulders, eyes that pierce you like daggers." He paused. "I might have gone a bit overboard cosplaying as him for my Instagram."
Lufe laughed, the sound echoing in the empty room. "I want to see those photos. If I'm having nightmares about haunted priests and phantom children, I can at least smile at your epic cosplay."
Hou-min's laughter joined his, distant through the phone. They talked for nearly half an hour—about favorite scenes, shared theories on how certain characters might develop, contrasted how the show differed from the original novel, and speculated on Hou-min's potential breakout as a k-drama star. For a moment, Lufe almost forgot where he was.