Horror Game Developer: My games aren't that scary! Chapter 819: The House [2]

"Oh my!"

The old woman leaned forward, her hands coming together above her lap.

"What is it? Please, tell me."

Up close, I could see the fine lines around her eyes. Her grey hair was tied loosely behind her head, with several strands falling against her cheeks. She brushed them aside without taking her attention away from me.

"It’s been so long since my husband passed that... well, I almost gave up on hearing anything."

I looked at her for a moment before smiling.

"We’re still investigating, so I can’t say anything for certain."

"Of course."

"But there’s a possibility that it behaves like a disease."

Her expression slowly changed.

"A disease?"

"Something caused by an anomaly. We think it might affect people without leaving anything for us to find outside their bodies."

"Oh my..."

Her hand pressed against her chest.

"Like a plague?"

"Possibly. But we don’t know how it spreads, or if that’s even the right way to describe it."

My voice came out rather calm.

There was no reason to frighten her more than necessary. Especially when I wasn’t entirely certain about what I was saying myself. Was it really a disease? I wasn’t sure, but everything pointed out to that possibility.

She lowered her gaze towards the cup in front of her.

"That... could explain it."

"What happened to your husband?"

"He said he... wasn’t feeling well. I think I mentioned this before."

Her fingers moved against the edge of her cardigan.

"I didn’t think much of it since we all get sick at some point or feel under the weather. In fact, he was doing much better the next day, and when I checked on him later, I thought he was just sleeping so I just let him be, but..."

She paused.

"When I tried waking him up for dinner, he..."

Once again, she paused as she choked up slightly.

The marker continued scraping against the paper behind her.

I looked towards the child briefly before returning my attention to the woman.

"Was he unwell before that?"

"Nothing serious. At least, nothing he told me about."

She picked up her cup, but only held it between her hands.

"After they took him to the hospital, I kept expecting someone to call and tell me he was doing better... I would go every day and sit with him."

Her thumb passed slowly over the handle.

"Sometimes, I thought his fingers moved when I held them. I kept telling people that he was getting better."

I didn’t say anything.

There wasn’t much I could say.

"Even towards the end, I still thought he would wake up."

Her voice grew quieter.

"But he never woke up."

"...I’m sorry."

The woman shook her head, although it took her a moment to speak again.

"My daughter helped me through it. She used to come by with her husband so I wouldn’t be alone."

Her eyes moved towards the table.

"Then their accident happened."

I followed her gaze.

The boy was still drawing.

His head was lowered so far that I could only see part of his face beneath his hair.

"That must’ve been difficult."

"It was."

She gave a small nod.

"For a while, I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do. Losing my husband was hard enough. Then losing her too..."

Her fingers tightened around the cup.

"But Roy needs someone. I can’t spend every day feeling sorry for myself."

A faint smile returned to her face as she looked towards him.

"We’re managing."

I nodded slowly.

Her husband, her daughter, and her son-in-law.

That was quite a lot for one person to lose.

Looking at the small child in the corner, I could understand why she wanted to keep going.

The marker stopped.

Roy set it down and reached for another one.

My attention returned to the drawing. The two figures remained seated beside each other, their hands resting neatly against their knees.

"What about his drawings?"

The woman looked back at me.

"Oh, those?"

"Yes. Does he usually draw things like that?"

She turned towards the table, looking at the paper for a moment before smiling.

"He’s been drawing like that for quite some time. I’m not entirely sure what they are."

"Has he told you?"

"Not really. I think they might be his parents. He misses them."

"....."

That was possible.

Children drew all sorts of things. There wasn’t necessarily anything strange about him drawing two people sitting down.

But the way their hands were positioned...

"Roy."

The woman beckoned him closer.

"Come here for a moment."

The marker stopped moving.

Roy looked up.

For the first time since I entered the house, his attention settled properly on me.

He didn’t get up immediately.

His grandmother called him again, and he eventually left the table, keeping the drawing in his hand.

She moved her cup aside and held out an arm.

"What were you drawing?"

Roy stopped beside her chair.

I got a clearer look at the picture.

The paper was covered in small dents from how hard he pressed the markers against it. One of the eyes was almost entirely black, while the other was still an empty circle.

"Would you like to show him?"

The old woman asked as the young child looked at me, then at the paper.

His fingers curled around its edge.

"Is that your mother and father?"

I asked softly, but he didn’t answer.

The woman brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"He is quite shy. He doesn’t speak much around people he doesn’t know."

"That’s alright."

I was too.

Well, not shy, I just hated talking with people.

"Come, you can tell him."

Roy remained still.

His eyes briefly moved towards mine before lowering again.

"....."

I looked at the drawing for another moment.

There were questions I wanted to ask, but he was holding the paper tightly enough to bend it. Pushing him didn’t seem like it would help.

"You don’t have to."

I gave up after a moment.

His grandmother gave me an apologetic smile before looking towards the clock.

"...It’s getting rather late."

She turned back to him.

"You should be getting ready for bed."

Roy nodded.

He returned to the table and placed the drawing beneath the other sheets before starting to put the caps back on his markers.

I watched him do it.

One at a time.

Then I stood up.

"I should get going too. Thank you for speaking with me."

The woman rose from her chair.

"It’s no trouble. I’m glad someone is still looking into it."

I picked up my mask and followed her towards the entrance.

"If you find anything..."

She stopped beside the door, looking back at me.

"Please let me know."

"I’ll do what I can."

Her smile softened.

"Thank you."

The door opened, letting the cold air into the house.

I stepped outside and pulled my mask back over my face.

Behind the woman, I could see Roy standing beside the table.

He was looking at me again.

I gave him a small nod.

He didn’t return it.

Then the door closed.

Clank!

The darkness felt heavier after being inside.

I remained on the step for a moment, waiting until I could properly see the path. The small plants beside the door slowly came into view, along with the fence farther ahead.

Something clicked behind me.

It was the lock.

I started walking.

Gravel moved beneath my shoes, the sound unusually loud within the silence. My mind continued to drift back to the drawings.

Perhaps.

I mean, most likely.

But why did it bother me so much?

I stopped near the gate and took out the compass.

The needle remained pointed towards the house.

"....."

I turned it slightly, but it still pointed there.

’There’s something more.’

The woman told me little that wasn’t already in the file. If that was all I came here to find, then this visit wouldn’t help much.

But the drawings...

I looked back towards the downstairs window.

Light still showed around the edges of the curtains.

For a moment, I considered knocking again.

Then I put the compass away.

’It’s no use. Since I didn’t get any information by asking, then I won’t get any more if I ask again.’

I moved away from the front path instead, making my way towards the side of the house.

Crunch.

A dry leaf broke beneath my shoe.

I stopped immediately, tensing at how loud the sound was. For several seconds, I stood completely still, taking note of my surroundings.

But thankfully, I heard nothing else besides the soft rustling of the trees around me. In the distance, I could see a small patch of trees, forming what looked like the entrance of a forest.

I continued more carefully, keeping close enough to the house that my sleeve occasionally brushed against it.

There was a narrow window ahead.

The curtains were drawn here too, and when I leaned a little closer, I could only make out a faint reflection of my own face.

"....."

I moved on.

The space between the house and the fence grew narrower near the back. Dry leaves gathered against the wall, covering most of the ground.

There wasn’t anywhere else to step.

Crunch.

I paused, pressing my lips together.

’Really now...’

From inside, a floorboard creaked. It was somewhere above me as I lifted my head.

A light came on behind an upstairs curtain. A shadow passed across it, but it was brief, making it hard for me to tell who it belonged to.

Then I heard another creak.

This time, it was footsteps.

Probably the old woman taking Roy to bed.

I waited until they stopped before moving again.

The downstairs light went out.

Darkness filled the space beside me so suddenly that I stopped with one foot raised.

For a moment, I couldn’t see the fence anymore.

Only the faint glow from upstairs reached the ground.

I slowly put my foot down.

Crunch.

Something scraped inside.

My head turned.

The sound came from the other side of the wall, somewhere close to the dark window ahead.

I remained still.

Scrape~

It came again, even more slowly this time.

That was what it sounded like.

I looked up.

The upstairs light was still on.

Below it, the curtain in front of me remained completely still.

Several seconds passed.

Then something else scraped across the floor.

It was the same sound.

A little farther away this time.

I stayed beside the window, listening.

The scraping stopped.

At the same time, I heard a soft yet muffled voice coming from a certain room, alongside a soft hum.

Roy and the old woman.

My breath came to a stop as the scraping continued, mixing with the two voices.

This time, I was sure.

This house...

There was a third person.