Chapter 1, Part 4
✦ Part 4: The House Where Poses Sleep
The path wound through thinned trees and curved past a pond so still it looked like glass laid over soil. Reflections didn't move on its surface. Yuriko stared into it as they passed, saw herself, saw him behind her—yet in the reflection, they never blinked.
The manor stood ahead like it had grown out of the earth—ivy curling along its pillars, the roof steep and black, windows taller than they needed to be. Western-style, but not Western—imported decades ago and left to steep in silence. It didn't look abandoned, but it didn't look alive either.
Maboroshi opened the double doors without touching them. She could have sworn she didn't see his hand move.
Inside smelled of rosewater, smoke, and something chemical—sweet, sharp, faintly sterile. The lighting was dim, filtered through old red velvet curtains. Along the walls, shelves of cameras, glass negatives, polished brass lenses. She saw a taxidermy peacock in the corner, eyes dulled, beak slightly parted.
He led her down a long hallway with a slow pace, as if letting the silence breathe between each step. "This was always your favorite room," he said, opening a wooden door carved with lilies.
The room was spare but elegant: four-poster bed, ivory curtains, clawfoot writing desk. It looked like no one had touched it in years, but also like someone had just left.
Her suitcase was already inside.
Yuriko paused.
"I didn't bring it in," she said.
"No," Maboroshi replied. "You left it here. Before."
She turned to ask him something—anything—but her voice broke before it became sound.
He gestured to the dresser. "There's something waiting for you."
She crossed the room slowly, hesitant.
There was a photo frame on the dresser, silver and delicate, too clean for its surroundings.
It faced down.
Her hand hovered above it.
But she didn't turn it over.
Not yet.