Erika's sharp senses caught the sound instantly.
Squelch.
Extremely faint. Incredibly brief. Like something wet being squeezed, or an invisible throat swallowing.
It wasn't coming from a single direction— It was everywhere.
Behind the perfectly manicured hedges to the left. Deep within the sunlit lawns to the right. Even—though Erika couldn't be sure if it was just his imagination—from behind the glass of the grand white mansions looming above.
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
One after another. Unhurried. Like a multitude of unseen, soundless things responding to each other in the dark.
Erika's footsteps faltered.
He looked back at Darren. The young man was still rooted to the spot, refusing to take another step. On that pale face, terror was plastered like a layer of congealing glue, freezing his features. He had clearly heard the sound too—perhaps even more clearly than Erika had. His lips trembled, struggling to form words, but only issuing a hollow, breathless "Hk... hk..."
That sheer panic, that terror on the verge of absolute collapse, stabbed into Erika's back like an icy needle.
It was a visceral reminder of every bizarre, twisted rumor Cole had ever mentioned about Darenz. The crawling things. The boiling pots. The midnight screams. The huddled, humanoid shape in the empty mansion that made those guttural gurgling noises.
Darren was serving as his living warning. Reminding him of exactly how dangerous this place was. Reminding him of the things unseen, unheard, yet omnipresent. Reminding him that—
This squelching sound... might just be the next one.
—
Erika looked forward again. At Cole.
Cole was still walking. Step by step, crunching over the white gravel path, heading straight toward the grand white houses.
No change whatsoever. That filthy white robe swayed slightly in the morning light. He didn't look back, didn't slow his pace, didn't spare a single unnecessary movement—as if the squelching emanating from all sides was nothing more than a breeze rustling the leaves, utterly unworthy of his attention.
Cole's unnatural composure made Erika doubt himself. Doubt what? Doubt if he was just being too tense? Doubt if that sound was actually nothing at all? Doubt if Darren's terror was purely his own problem, having nothing to do with him, or this place, or those "bizarre" things?
What do I do?
Erika stood frozen on the path. Ahead was Cole's retreating back. Behind was Darren's paralyzing fear. And all around him was that unending, sourceless sound, carrying god-knows-what meaning—
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
He tightened his grip on his empty right sleeve. The seam. The thread. The invisible string that had been pulled taut in his mind since the very first day he stepped foot in Darenz was now vibrating fiercely with the noise.
Follow? Or turn back?
No—there was no turning back. He couldn't go back. Which meant there was only one choice left.
Follow.
"Get the hell out here! Darenz Linglong!"
Cole's roar struck like a thunderbolt, violently cleaving through the morning silence without warning!
Erika violently jolted. He reeled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet, his heart slamming into his throat as his breath hitched.
It shocked Darren, too. The man, who had been trembling so hard he seemed ready to sink into the earth, suddenly snapped his head up. The terror on his face congealed into something deeper, an expression of someone who had just witnessed something fundamentally forbidden.
Even the world itself seemed to flinch.
That bizarre, omnipresent squelching sound— Vanished. Wiped completely clean. As if someone had severed it with a single blade. As if whatever unseen things had been swallowing were suddenly choked by an invisible hand.
Only Cole's heavy breathing remained in the air.
—
"How many times do I have to yell before you roll your ass out here?!"
Cole's cursing continued. His voice had lost its usual frivolous, teasing lilt—this was genuine, deeply accumulated fury.
"Lingling!" Cole yelled.
"Longlong!" Cole yelled again.
The tone wasnt that of a man cursing a terrifying entity; it sounded more like a man scolding an obnoxious, punchable old acquaintance who was hiding from him.
—
"It's over. It's all over."
Darren's voice yanked Erika's attention back. Erika whipped his head around—
Darren had collapsed to the ground. He didn't kneel slowly; he simply gave way. His knees smashed into the white gravel with a dull, heavy thud. His hands braced against the ground, his head hanging low, his shoulders shaking violently.
"Hahahaha..." The laughter was wrong. It wasn't a normal sound; it was the sound that leaked from the cracks after something inside a mind had thoroughly snapped.
"Should I bow first, or kiss the hand first?! Hahaha!" Darren jerked his head up, casting a wild, terrified glance toward the white mansions, then violently shoved his head back down, as if dodging an unseen gaze.
"Or should I gouge my eyes out first?! Hahaha!" He had completely lost his mind.
—
Erika stood frozen, looking between the kneeling, broken Darren and the still-roaring Cole ahead.
The squelching had stopped. But something far more terrifying was waking up in that silence.
He tightened his grip on his empty right sleeve.
Linglong? Who the hell is that?
Erika paid Darren no more mind. The lunatic kneeling on the ground, laughing and crying, muttering about "bowing or kissing hands," was no longer worth a shred of attention. Darren's nerves had snapped, like a rope pulled far too tight for far too long, finally giving way at the sound of a single squelch.
Erika stepped around him, moving to stand just behind and to the side of Cole. Then, following Cole's gaze, he looked toward the distant estate.
—
The morning light was spilling from the east, coating everything in sight with a pale wash of gold.
A lawn. Not the kind of empty lot overgrown with weeds and trash. A real lawn—so flat it looked as if it had been measured with a ruler and trimmed with shears, every inch a brilliant, glossy green. Dewdrops clung to the blades of grass, catching the morning light and glittering like shattered glass scattered across the ground.
Down the center of the lawn ran a path. Not made of the crushed gravel beneath their feet, but of wide, smooth paving stones. Flanking the path were low shrubs trimmed into perfect spheres, standing dutifully in line like two rows of silent servants.
At the end of the path— A mansion.
Erika had never seen anything like it. Three stories high. White walls. Tall, imposing windows with frames painted a deep green that softened in the morning glow. The roof was pitched, covered in dark grey tiles, with several pointed chimneys piercing the sky. Sturdy white columns supported the front porch, entwined with some kind of climbing vine bearing tiny flowers of an indistinguishable color.
It was too big. Too clean. Too quiet. Like another world entirely.
However, there seemed to be no reaction from within the estate. No doors opened. No one stepped out. No movement at all. The windows remained pitch black, like a multitude of tightly shut eyes.
—
Then, the eerie squelch returned.
One sound. Two sounds.
Coming from behind them—from the area where the "decent people" lived. Every time it sounded, it battered against Darren's fragile nerves.
"N-no... not here... it's over there... no, over there..." Darren babbled from his knees, his head whipping back and forth like a rattle drum, his eyes bulging as he stared at nothing. His voice rose and fell, bouncing between sobs and giggles, contradictory nonsense pouring uncontrollably from his mouth.
"Kneel first! No—bow first! No, no, no—crawl over! Yes, yes, yes, crawl over..." He actually started to crawl. Palms flat on the gravel, knees scraping forward, he would crawl a few paces in one direction, freeze abruptly, and then pivot toward another.
Erika didn't look at him. He just kept his eyes fixed on Cole.
—
"Who is Darenz's cutest baby?!"
Cole was still roaring. But this time— Erika was stunned.
The tone... was wrong. It wasn't anger. It wasn't that deeply accumulated, genuine fury from moments ago. It was something else entirely—the tone you use when you're yelling at someone hiding from you, yelling until you're genuinely pissed off, and then the yell morphs into a kind of... helplessness? Doting? What the hell was this?
"Linglong! Roll your ass out here!" Cole shouted again. The volume was just as loud, but the cadence— It was getting increasingly... unserious?
Like a scolding, yet like a tease. Like a furious outburst, yet like coaxing a toddler.
Erika stood behind him, looking at that filthy white robe, looking at the back of the man still screaming at the pristine estate.
He began to wonder. Just who exactly is he cursing out? What the hell is 'Darenz Linglong'? What kind of person, ghost, or monstrosity could make Cole call it a 'baby' in that tone of voice?
The squelching was still sounding. One, two, three. Darren was still crawling, still muttering, utterly lost to madness. Cole was still roaring, but the content of his shouts was getting more and more absurd, sounding increasingly like a man playing an aggressive game of hide-and-seek with a stubborn child locked in their room.
Erika gripped his empty right sleeve tighter. The morning light grew brighter.
The mansion remained exactly as it was—quiet, silent, acting as if it hadn't heard a single thing.