CHAPTER 1

Kogan skims past the accompanying photos—ominous shadows, blurred shapes—nothing anyone could seriously call evidence.

@RayoSombrino78

2 mins ago

"Who would buy a place with a history like this?"

6 replies

Kogan's car slows to a stop in front of the Pandora Building.

It’s worse than the photos. The media always goes for theatrical shots—the kind that make the building look like a set piece in a horror movie.

In reality, it just looked worn down. The cracked windows stare blankly from a face overgrown with ivy. The garbage strewn about its base is the only reminder that people had come and gone, leaving nothing but damage behind.

Kogan turns to the leather-bound journal on the passenger seat.

(Drag to turn object)

His fingers hover before tracing the worn gold maze inlaid on the cover.

It had been his mother’s—one of the few links he had left to her.

Kogan slips the journal into his inner coat pocket, letting its familiar weight settle against his chest.

The shape, texture, and even the faint smell of old paper grounded him in a way nothing else could. Carrying it felt like keeping a piece of her close.

Stepping out into the crisp late-fall air, Kogan’s eyes rise to meet the looming silhouette of the Pandora Building. It watches him with quiet suspicion, waiting to be disappointed.

I know

the feeling...

...But

this time will

be different.

He pulled his coat tighter and headed toward the front steps, passing by colorful warnings sprayed on the bricks in uneven, jagged strokes: "Beware the Faerie." "Turn Back Now." Whatever menace the words might have held was drained in the daylight—just another layer of neglect.

The door creaked open just as he reached it, revealing a dark-haired woman with a wide smile that trembled at the edges. She hugged a navy blue folder tightly to her chest, her fingers white-knuckled around its edges. “Pandora Building—Final Sale” was scrawled across the front in a hurried pen.

You must

be Mr. Mendez.

she said, though her eyes kept darting past him toward the street.

Kogan paused and glanced back over his shoulder.

Nothing.

The street was empty and still, save for a few leaves and crumpled papers tumbling in the wind.

Yes, that's

right.

Her eyes snapped to his, and her smile widened. She stepped forward, offering a hand.

I’m Bethany Pickford, your agent.

Her handshake was stiff, her fingers ice cold against his.

You’re right on time!

Always.

Kogan studies her up close. Her grin reminded him of a rubber band on the verge of snapping. She didn’t move aside—or let go of his hand.

Something about her forced cheer, teetering on the edge of desperation, made him feel uneasy.

Then again, people had always been a mystery to Kogan, and he’d learned not to waste energy trying to figure them out. Instead, he extracted his hand from Bethany’s grip and stepped around her into the Pandora Building.

He paused.

A sickly sweet smell hung in the air. Peeling wallpaper curled away from the walls like flayed skin as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

He’d dreamed of this place a thousand times, traced its halls in his mind so often that it had become a fixture in his subconscious. But the weight of it pressed down differently in reality. He’d always thought facing it would bring some kind of clarity, but instead, it only made it harder to breathe.

He couldn’t help but imagine his mother standing in this very spot decades ago, unaware she’d never leave.

Bethany's shrill voice sliced through the heavy silence.

Cheerful place, isn’t it?

It's not

often we get interest

in this particular property. This one’s a fixer-upper, to

put it mildly.

She gestured vaguely at the cracked tile floors and the sagging ceiling.

I mean, look. Structural damage, ancient wiring—and don’t even get me started on the mold issue.

Honestly, I’m surprised it’s still standing!

Kogan’s jaw tightened. Her flippant tone scraped against old wounds.

He turned to her, voice flat.

Isn’t it your job to sell this property?

Well,

sure!

But between you

and me, if you’re in the market

for an investment, I could show you a dozen properties that would be less challenging.

I’d hate to see someone your age bite off more than he can chew—"

mother died here.

The words cut through the air, flat and deliberate. Bethany froze. For a split second, something like panic flickered behind her eyes. Kogan held her gaze, feeling the spark of defiance burn in his chest.

I'm using her

life insurance to buy this building do I can turn it into something worth remembering.

. . .

Bethany Pickford looked like she was experiencing a system error. Kogan could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she processed this new information.

Part of him relished her discomfort, but mostly he was just tired. Tired of explaining. Tired of justifying. Tired of carrying the pain of what had happened here. If this place was going to be part of his life story, then he was going to have a hand in writing it.