The officers exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from skepticism to concern. “We’ll need to investigate further,” one of them murmured, signaling his partner to fetch more equipment from their patrol car.
As they awaited the return of the second officer, Han clutched their baby tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. The room felt colder, the shadows seeming to stretch and twist like living entities. Ink remained vigilant, his growls a low rumble resonating through the floorboards.
When the officer returned, he carried additional flashlights and a crowbar. “Let’s see what’s behind this,” he said, gesturing toward the wall with a determined nod.
With careful precision, they began to remove the paneling near the cracked wood and hollow knuckles. Each pull revealed more of the hidden space — a small cavity, barely large enough for a person to crawl through. Dust and cobwebs clung to the edges, but something else caught their attention: a small pile of old, yellowed photographs.
Son and Han leaned in closer, their curiosity piqued. The photographs depicted a family, their faces frozen in time, with a child eerily similar in age to their own. The images, however, were marred by streaks, as if someone had tried to erase the people from existence.
The lead officer flipped through the photographs, his brow furrowing. “These are dated from the 1950s,” he noted, showing them to Son. “This house must have quite a history.”
“But what about the hand we saw?” Son interjected, his voice a mix of fear and urgency. “There’s something more here — something alive.”
The officer nodded, acknowledging the concern. “We’ll need to conduct a thorough investigation. It’s possible there’s an old access point to a larger space beneath the house. We’ll arrange for a team to come by in the morning.”
As the officers finished their preliminary check, one of them left a card with Son. “Call us if anything else happens tonight. We’ll have people here first thing tomorrow.”
With a final, reassuring nod, they departed, leaving Son and Han in the dimly lit room. Ink, still unsettled, circled the crib, his protective presence a comfort amidst the uncertainty.
As dawn broke, Son and Han discussed the bizarre events, their minds racing with possibilities. Could it have been a squatter, living undetected beneath their home? Or was there a more sinister force at play, something that had lingered in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to make itself known?
The morning light brought a semblance of normalcy, yet the mystery remained. They shared breakfast in a silence punctuated only by the baby’s coos and Ink’s gentle whine. Discomfort lingered, a reminder that while the night had passed, the enigma beneath their home had not yet been solved.
In the days that followed, the investigation revealed a network of forgotten tunnels and passages, remnants of an era long past. While no definitive answers emerged, the discovery of the hidden space and its contents reshaped Son and Han’s perception of their home.
Through it all, Ink remained the sentinel, ever watchful, guarding not just against the unknown, but standing as a testament to the bond between family, loyalty, and the unseen forces that sometimes dwell just beyond the fringes of understanding.
