Hannah?

Richard leaned forward slightly as Max pulled up in front of Emma's house.

Even though he hadn't been here many times before, there was no doubt in his mind—this was definitely her house.

The massive, four-story home stood behind an imposing black gate. The faint glow of garden lights illuminated the well-kept front yard. It looked warm, welcoming—normal. But for some reason, an uneasy feeling settled in Richard's stomach.

His gaze wandered to the spacious yard, which had a few swings and a slide—something he hadn't really noticed before. It was the kind of thing that would make the house feel lively, full of family.

So why did it feel off?

Max clicked the car key, shutting off the engine. "Alright, let's get this over with."

They both got out of the car. Richard led the way to the smaller pedestrian gate at the side, which was unlocked. They pushed through and walked up the stone pathway to the front door.

Richard hesitated for a moment before pressing the doorbell.

The chime echoed through the house, and for a few seconds, silence followed.

Then, a muffled voice from inside. "Coming!"

Richard let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Footsteps approached from behind the door. A few seconds later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman standing there.

Linda.

Emma's mother.

She had shoulder-length dark brown hair, with traces of gray near her temples. Her warm brown eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, but her face carried a hint of exhaustion—like she hadn't slept well in a while. She wore a casual blue cardigan over a white blouse, the kind of outfit that made her look like she was about to head out for errands.

Her gaze landed on Richard first, then on Max.

"Richard?" Linda tilted her head slightly, confused. "What brings you here?"

Richard gave a polite nod. "Uh, hey, Mrs. Linda. We were wondering if Emma was home."

Then, a pause.

A small, almost imperceptible shift in Linda's expression.

She blinked once. Then twice.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to say something—but no words came out at first.

The moment stretched just a little too long.

Then she finally spoke.

"Emma?" she repeated. Her brows furrowed, and a faint look of confusion crossed her face.

Linda's head tilted a bit more, like she was genuinely trying to process the name.

Richard felt something tighten in his chest.

A strange, creeping dread climbed up his spine.

No. No, no, no—this wasn't right.

Linda looked at him, blinking again, and then shook her head.

"I'm sorry, dear, but… there's no one by that name who lives here."

Silence.

Richard's entire body froze.

The words didn't make sense.

He stared at Linda, waiting for her to correct herself.

But she didn't.

His heart skipped a beat.

No… this had to be a mistake.

For a brief, desperate second, Richard thought—Did I get the wrong house?

No. That wasn't possible.

This was Emma's house. He was sure of it.

Even though he hadn't visited often, he knew this place.

He remembered standing on this same porch before.

He remembered Emma laughing in this very yard.

This was the right house.

It had to be.

So why…

Why was Linda saying Emma didn't exist?

A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on his chest.

His hands clenched into fists, but his body remained frozen in place.

Did it happen again?

Richard swallowed hard. The world of the supernatural was unforgiving—people could be erased from existence like they were never there.

Richard himself had the power to burn things out of existence.

Someone like Raven—someone more powerful than him—could absolutely do the same.

And Raven knew they were after him.

Was this a warning?

Did he take Emma to send a message?

Richard's breathing became unsteady.

No. No, no—he couldn't let this happen again.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

"Come on, dude," Max muttered beside him. "You got the address wrong? Seriously?"

Richard barely registered the words.

Max, seeing how Richard just stood there, frozen, let out an annoyed sigh and turned to Linda.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," Max said smoothly, his voice completely casual. "Guess we must've made a mistake."

Richard barely heard him.

His world was narrowing in on Linda's confused expression.

No.

No, no, no, no—

This wasn't right.

This wasn't happening again.

Richard took a sharp breath, forcing himself to push down the rising panic.

He needed to be sure.

So he stared straight at Linda and asked—

"Emma? You remember Emma, right? Your daughter, Emma?"

Max immediately stiffened beside him.

He finally picked up on what Richard just realized.

For a split second, the atmosphere changed.

The air felt… heavy.

Linda tilted her head slightly again, blinking.

Then—

She laughed.

A warm, amused chuckle, like this was all just some joke.

"Why are you being so tense, Richard?" she said, still smiling. "Of course, I know my daughter, Emma."

Richard and Max both froze.

Richard blinked.

Max slowly turned his head toward Richard, eyes narrowing.

Linda was still laughing softly, shaking her head.

It took a few seconds, but then—Richard remembered.

Emma's mom was a prankster.

His entire body sagged with relief as the suffocating weight in his chest slowly loosened.

Max exhaled dramatically. "Jesus, lady. You scared the hell out of us."

Linda chuckled. "I couldn't resist."

Richard let out a slow breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

False alarm.

Emma was still here.

She wasn't erased.

For now.

Richard let out a slow breath, still trying to calm his racing heart. The weight in his chest had loosened, but the unease lingered. That moment—when Linda had looked confused—had felt too real. Too unnatural. Even if it had just been one of her usual pranks, something about it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Max, still standing beside him, exhaled loudly. "Lady, you almost gave my guy here a heart attack."

Linda chuckled. "Oh, come on. It was just a little joke."

Richard forced a smile, but his mind was still restless. He had to push past it for now.

"So, uh… is Emma home?" he asked.

Linda shook her head. "No, she went out."

Richard felt a small pang of disappointment. He was hoping to talk to her today, but maybe it was for the best. He still didn't know what he was going to say.

"Where'd she go?" Max asked, crossing his arms.

Linda leaned against the doorframe, thinking for a moment. "She said she was going to a friend's house."

Richard nodded. "Which friend?"

Linda smiled. "Oh, what was her name again…? Right, Hannah."

Richard's breath hitched.

For a second, he thought he misheard her. His mind replayed the name over and over, making sure he hadn't imagined it.

Hannah.

His chest tightened. His fingers curled slightly.

No. That wasn't possible.

Hannah was gone.

Hannah was the first victim of the Haunted Hill.

She had been erased from existence even before Jackson.

So if Emma remembered Jackson, why wouldn't she remember Hannah?

His pulse quickened.

His body tensed as his mind connected the dots.

If Emma went to see Hannah—

Max must have noticed the change in his expression because he suddenly gave him a sideways glance. "Yo. You good?"

Richard didn't answer. He turned sharply to Linda, his voice more urgent now. "Where does Hannah live?"

Linda looked slightly taken aback by his sudden shift in tone. "Oh, I'm not sure, honey. Emma didn't say."

Richard took a step back from the door, his brain screaming at him to move.

"Richard?" Max called, his voice laced with confusion.

Richard didn't wait. He spun on his heel and started running toward the car.

"Hey—what the hell?!" Max shouted, quickly turning to follow him.

Richard didn't respond. He reached the car, threw open the passenger door, and climbed in. His hands were gripping his knees, his breathing unsteady.

Max slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. He turned to Richard, frustrated. "Alright, I need you to start explaining. Now."

Richard's eyes were locked on the dashboard. His mind was racing too fast to form proper words.

Max groaned. "Dude, don't go all mute on me. What the hell is going on?"

Richard forced himself to speak. "Hannah."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What about her?"

Richard swallowed, his throat dry. "She was the first."

Max frowned. "First what?"

Richard turned to look at him, his expression deadly serious. "The first victim of the Haunted Hill."

Max's face went blank. His fingers froze on the steering wheel.

"The first person to be erased. Before Jackson," Richard continued. "She vanished. No one remembered her. Not her family. Not her friends. She was wiped out completely."

Max didn't move for a few seconds. His mind was clearly working through what Richard had just told him. Then, his jaw tightened.

"And Emma just… said she was going to meet her?" Max asked, his voice slower now.

Richard nodded.

A tense silence filled the car.

Then, Max slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

The tires screeched against the pavement as they shot forward.

This time, Richard didn't need to give him directions.

Max already knew exactly where they were going.

Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes. The air inside the car was heavy—like the weight of what they were about to find was pressing down on them. Richard kept his eyes glued to the road ahead, his fists clenched tightly on his lap. His mind was racing, replaying everything over and over.

Hannah had been erased. That was a fact.

So if Emma was looking for her…

Was she already too late?

Richard's gut twisted. He didn't want to think about that.

He glanced at Max, whose usual smug and carefree expression was completely gone. His jaw was tight, his fingers gripping the steering wheel hard. He was taking this seriously.

Richard turned back toward the window, watching the buildings blur past as they sped toward the outskirts of town. The deeper they went, the fewer people they saw.

Then, finally, they reached it.

Or at least… where it used to be.

The Haunted Hill.

Or rather, the empty stretch of land where it once stood.

Richard felt a chill crawl up his spine.

He had burned this place out of existence.

And yet, being here still made him feel like something was watching him.

Max parked the car on the side of the road, killing the engine.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Richard finally exhaled and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the cracked pavement. The wind was stronger here, rustling the overgrown grass and weeds that had started reclaiming the land. The air smelled dry, like something old and forgotten.

Max came around the car, stretching his neck. "Well, here we are. A whole lot of nothing."

Richard didn't respond. He stepped forward, eyes scanning the area.

It was strange. Even though he had destroyed this place, the ground still felt… wrong.

Like a scar that hadn't fully healed.

Max stuffed his hands into his pockets. "So what's the plan? Just wander around and hope Emma magically shows up?"

Richard ignored him. His eyes were sharp, scanning every inch of the empty lot.

Then, he saw it.

Footprints.

A trail of them. Leading further in.

His breath hitched. "Someone's been here."

Max followed his gaze and let out a low whistle. "Well, that's not creepy at all."

Without another word, Richard started walking.

The footprints were fresh. Emma had been here not too long ago.

The further in they went, the quieter everything became. It was as if the world around them was holding its breath.

Richard could feel it now.

Something was off.

The air was heavier. The sky above them seemed a shade darker than before. There was no reason for it—no clouds, no storm coming—just an unnatural dimness settling over the place.

Max noticed it too. He muttered, "Okay, I don't like this. This place was already bad enough when there was an actual hill here."

Richard didn't answer. He kept following the footprints.

Then, they heard it.

A voice.

Soft. Distant.

Coming from just ahead.

Max tensed. "Tell me you heard that."

Richard nodded slowly. His heart was pounding now.

They picked up their pace, moving faster.

Then, at the very edge of the lot, just past a cluster of dried-up trees—

They saw her.

Emma.

Standing completely still.

Facing away from them.

The wind blew through her hair, but she didn't move.

She just stood there.

Unmoving.

Silent.