"Hey, ghost crew, what is up? It's your girl, Linda, coming at you live." "Tonight, we're exploring the infamous haunted house from the ‘Body in the Wall’ murder case that shocked the nation three years ago." In the dead of night, Linda aimed her camera at the dilapidated old house. Under the pale, anemic moonlight, the yard was a sea of dead leaves, rustling and whispering with every breath of wind, lending the crumbling brick structure an air of profound menace. Instantly, the live chat lit up with two names, spammed over and over again: "Selene" and "The Sinner." The comments section became a torrent of outrage. "No fucking way. Is this about that psycho, Selene?" "Ugh, if I'd known, I would've burned some sage to cleanse this bad juju." "For real." "Everyone in Riverbend City knows Selene was the daughter of the richest man in town. Why would she ever live in a shithole like this? Who are you trying to fool?" "Linda, don't be like those other clout-chasers, blinded by the views." "Listen to us, sweetie. Let's not do this." "The last thing we need is for your stream to make that bitch famous again. She'd probably love that." Watching the scroll of angry text, Linda felt a flicker of doubt. Had her source been wrong? But then she saw the viewer count tick past one hundred thousand and climbing. Taking a deep breath, she addressed her audience with renewed professionalism. "Don't worry, everyone. As a paranormal investigator, my job is to be objective. I don't take sides." "And I would never, ever let a monster who would frame her own sister just for a taste of fame get a second chance in the spotlight." She held up a small, intricate sword woven from antique coins, a faint smile on her face. "And if her spirit is truly here," she said, her voice dropping, "I will be the one to pass judgment. I'll send that evil soul straight to hell myself." Her declaration flipped the mood of the chat instantly. Cheers and praise flooded the screen. With that, she stepped onto the carpet of dried petals and pushed open the groaning, time-worn wooden door. The next second, her eyes went wide. She froze on the threshold. "What the—!" In a brightly lit villa miles away, Adrian Thorne leaned over a balcony railing, his face a mask of irritation as he chain-smoked. "Selene," he muttered. "It's always Selene." "She's been dead for three years, how is she still causing so much trouble?!" He ground out the cigarette with his heel and spoke coldly into his phone. "Celeste cannot find out about this. Do you understand? I don't want the name 'Selene' to even touch Celeste's ears." But it was too late. Behind him, Celeste, who had been walking toward him, stopped dead. A sad, wan smile touched her pale lips. "It's okay, Adrian. I heard." "I'm sure… I'm sure my sister didn't mean to do all those things back then." Her voice was a fragile whisper. "Besides… I forgave her a long time ago." At that moment, my father, watching from the living room, slammed his glass down. The sound of his knuckles cracking echoed in the tense silence. "Restless even in death." He ordered a servant to cast the livestream onto the massive television screen. His eyes, bloodshot with rage, bored into the image. "Let's see what kind of trouble a dead bitch can stir up after three years!" Just as he spoke, Linda's shocked voice filled the room. "What… what is this…?" The camera panned across a wall crawling with green moss. Hidden within the grime were countless dark, reddish-brown stains—streaks of old blood. The entire live chat, which had been a waterfall of text, fell silent. Then, as Linda moved closer, it exploded. "HOLY SHIT..." "That's fucking disgusting." "I always heard Celeste was ruthless in her climb to fame, but I never imagined she had zero bottom line." "Is that all pig's blood?" "Didn't she lie about having depression back in the day?" "Probably planned this whole stunt to make a comeback. Too bad she died before she could pull it off." "LOL, I wonder which unsung hero took out the trash for us." "Serves her right! Good riddance!" The irony was laughable. Hiding behind these vicious words was a mob of strangers who had never met me. They waved their banners of justice while pelting my memory with the most toxic filth imaginable, feasting on my demise like vultures. The sight made even Linda frown. Deciding to ignore the chat, she pulled a spirit compass from her bag and began her investigation. But in the next instant, a sudden gust of wind burst through a broken window, making the tattered curtains dance violently. It whipped the stained sheet off the bed, a final, mournful cry from the depths of the macabre carnival. And there, lying exposed, was a yellowed diary. The wind flipped its pages, revealing lines of elegant, handwritten script. It caught Linda’s eye. "June 23, 2018. Today, I saw him again. The boy who occupied my entire youth. Adrian Thorne…" He was just as I remembered, so beautiful that even the moonlight seemed to favor him, pouring over his shoulders like a silver halo. One look, and my world stopped. My eyes were glued to him. But this time, something was different. This time, he looked back at me. It was the graduation gala. My roommate, Jessica, had gotten food poisoning the night before. As her best friend, I had to take her place on stage, next to him. When the stage lights flared to life, my nerves were a wreck. My hands trembled uncontrollably. But then Adrian’s hand gently covered mine, stilling the tremor. He smiled and whispered, "Don't be afraid." "As long as I'm here, you won't mess this up." As his clear, strong voice filled the auditorium, my own breathing evened out, and I sang my part, my voice weaving a melody around his. That night, bathed in his glow, even I became a star on that stage. And he… he finally noticed me." Listening to Linda read my words aloud, Adrian’s expression flickered. It was a look of nostalgia, mingled with a deep, unspoken regret. He was right. Back then, I hadn't done those terrible things. I hadn't been branded a sinner. And it was the first time that he, the popular musician, had felt his heart stir for me, the quiet girl he barely knew. In my eyes, filled with such pure, unadulterated passion, he had seen a reflection of himself—someone who loved the stage with their entire soul. In that moment, a complex, unspoken emotion had bloomed in his heart. Watching him, Celeste’s face changed. She lowered her head, a bitter twist to her pale lips. Her voice was a carefully controlled murmur of pain and forbearance. "Adrian… I'm so sorry…" "If it wasn't for me… you and my sister would have never…" "It's all my fault." "I'm the one who killed her." The glint of tears in Celeste's eyes pulled Adrian back from his reverie. The word "sister" was a splash of cold water. His face hardened, but his voice was gentle as he comforted her. "Celeste, don't think like that." "If it weren't for Selene, would you have lost your dream? She brought this on herself." As he spoke, the anger in his eyes became almost impossible to hide. He turned away from Celeste quickly. "She doesn't deserve your tears. And she doesn't deserve to be called your sister." My parents chose this moment to speak, their voices dripping with sympathy for Celeste. "Celeste, darling, we know that monster's death was a huge blow to you. But you have to move on." "It's time you and Adrian started a family." Then, their eyes fixed on the live stream, their jaws clenched. "As for that ungrateful viper we raised," my father seethed, "restless even in death." "Good," my mother added. "I hear this streamer has some real power. If she can make Selene's soul shatter into a million pieces, it'll be our family's public service." As the three of them sat together, a perfect picture of a loving family, Linda turned the diary to the second page. But in the corner of the dilapidated room, a blood-red figure flickered into view in the reflection of a cracked, dirty mirror. From a mouth that had no tongue, a muffled, desperate whimper escaped: "Help… me."
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