Gordon, intrigued by Mr. Suhat's hints of a more complex past, decided to tread carefully. "You said you learned to cook out of necessity, while traveling," he began, choosing his words with care. "Where did your travels take you?"
Mr. Suhat's expression softened, a hint of melancholy touching his eyes. "Many places," he said, his voice distant. "Lands far and wide. I was… searching. For knowledge, for understanding, for… peace."
He paused, his gaze drifting towards a framed painting on the wall. It depicted a woman with kind eyes and a sweet smile, holding a baby wrapped in a soft blanket. "I wasn't always alone," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "I had a wife, a beautiful, loving woman. And a son."
He turned back to Gordon, a sad smile playing on his lips. "My wife… she died shortly after our son was born. It was… a difficult time. I was lost, adrift. I decided to leave the city, to travel, to try and find… something. Anything. To make sense of it all."
He gestured towards the portrait. "My son, however, he needed stability. He needed a home. So, I brought him here, to Oakhaven. It was a quiet, peaceful village, far from the… chaos of the city. A place where he could grow up safe and happy."
"And where is he now?" Gordon asked, his voice soft.
"He's in the capital city," Mr. Suhat replied, his eyes filled with pride. "Studying at the academy. He's a bright young man, with a thirst for knowledge. He wants to be a scholar."
He paused, a wistful look on his face. "I miss him, of course. But I know he's where he needs to be. And I'm here, in Oakhaven, waiting for him to return."
"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Suhat," he said, his voice sincere.
"Thank you, Gordon," Mr. Suhat said, his smile returning. "But it's in the past now. I have my memories, and I have my son."
After finishing their lunch, Gordon, feeling a renewed sense of determination, returned to his investigation. He thanked Mr. Suhat for the meal and the insights into his past, then headed back to the library, the room where he had first sensed the strange presence.
He retraced his steps, meticulously examining every detail, every shadow, every corner. He tried to focus on the faint shimmer he had seen earlier, attempting to recreate the conditions that had triggered its appearance. He even tried to speak aloud, addressing the unseen presence, asking it to reveal itself.
He moved through the house, his movements slow and deliberate, his senses heightened. He spent time in the study, then wandered the hallways, pausing at each doorway, each window, each painting. He felt a growing sense of frustration, a feeling that he was close, but just out of reach.
He was sure he was almost getting it. He could feel it, the lingering unease, the subtle vibrations in the air. He could almost see the faint shimmer, the distortion in the light. But it kept slipping away, like a wisp of smoke, just as he was about to grasp it.
He tried different approaches, different techniques. He tried to visualize the presence, to feel its emotions, to understand its intentions. He tried to use his power, to sense its connection to the house. But nothing worked. The presence remained elusive, a phantom in the shadows.
As the afternoon wore on, Gordon's frustration grew. He felt a sense of helplessness, a feeling that he was failing Mr. Suhat, failing to solve the mystery that was plaguing his home. He knew he was close, but he didn't know why it kept slipping away. He couldn't pin down the "why".
He decided to take a break, to clear his mind, to try and approach the problem from a different angle. He went to the drawing room, where Mr. Suhat was reading a book by the window. He sat down in a comfortable armchair, his gaze fixed on the garden outside.
"Any luck, Gordon?" Mr. Suhat asked, his voice soft.
"Not yet," Gordon replied, his voice laced with frustration. "I can feel something, but I can't… I can't quite grasp it. It's like it's just out of reach."
"Perhaps it's meant to be," Mr. Suhat said, his voice thoughtful. "Perhaps some mysteries are not meant to be solved."
Gordon looked at him, his eyes filled with determination. "I don't believe that, Mr. Suhat," he said. "I believe there's always an answer. We just have to find it."
Two days. Two long, frustrating days. Gordon had spent every waking moment searching Mr. Suhat's house, meticulously examining every room, every corner, every object. He had tried every approach, every technique he could think of, but the mystery remained unsolved. The faint shimmer, the unsettling stillness, the lingering unease—they were all still there, but no closer to being explained.
A growing suspicion began to form in Gordon's mind. He had a feeling that the key to unlocking the mystery lay in the hours of the night. He suspected that the presence, whatever it was, was more active at night, perhaps even at its strongest at midnight.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He had faced down a cultist and abomination creatures, but the idea of spending the night alone in a haunted house, especially at midnight, filled him with fear. His powers had given him strength, but they hadn't completely erased his timid nature.
But he knew he had to overcome his fear. He had promised Mr. Suhat he would help, and he couldn't back down now. He had to face it to uncover the truth.
He decided to wait until midnight, the witching hour, when the night at its peak. He spent the rest of the day preparing, gathering his courage, and sharpening his senses. He even practiced some of breathing techniques that hunter guild had teaching him, trying to strengthen his mental and mind.
He ate a light dinner, trying to calm his nerves. He then went to the library, the room where he had first sensed the strange presence. He sat in a comfortable armchair, his gaze fixed on the darkened windows.
He waited, his heart pounding in his chest, his senses heightened. The silence in the house grew heavier, the air thicker. He felt a chill, a coldness that seemed to seep into his bones.
As the clock chimed midnight, the final resonating gong echoing through the silent house, Gordon's resolve crumbled. The oppressive silence, the chilling atmosphere, the sheer weight of his fear pressing in on him—it was too much.
He felt a wave of panic wash over him, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. He looked around the darkened library, his eyes wide with fear, imagining unseen eyes watching him from the shadows.
He needed to get out. He needed to escape the suffocating dread that filled the house. He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready.
He stood abruptly, knocking over a small side table in his haste. The clatter echoed through the silence, making him jump. He looked around, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow, convinced he had alerted some unseen presence
.
"I… I need to go," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. He turned and fled the library, his footsteps echoing through the empty hallways.
He found Mr. Suhat in his study, reading a book by the dim light of a lamp. Mr. Suhat looked up, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"Gordon? Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice soft.
"I… I have to go," Gordon said, his voice trembling slightly. "Something… something came up. At home. I have to… I have to deal with it."
He knew his excuse sounded flimsy, ridiculous even, but he couldn't bring himself to admit his fear.
Mr. Suhat looked at him, his eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, Gordon," he said, his voice calm. "Family matters are always important. But are you sure you are alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Gordon insisted, his voice slightly higher than normal. "I'll… I'll come back tomorrow. I promise. I'll… I'll have more time then."
He offered a weak smile, then turned and hurried towards the door, his footsteps echoing through the house. He didn't stop until he was outside, the cool night air a welcome relief against his sweaty skin.
Gordon rushed back to his cottage, the cool night air doing little to quell the frantic beating of his heart. He slammed the door behind him, leaning against it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt a wave of self-disgust wash over him.
He had faced down abomination creatures. He had stood against the hag. He had even stared into the abyss of the afterlife and returned. But this… this unseen, unexplained fear, it was different. It was insidious, creeping into his mind, twisting his courage into knots of anxiety.
He wasn't a coward, he told himself. He had proven his bravery time and again. But he was tired. He was still recovering from his near-death experience, the lingering effects of it still a raw, unsettling memory. He wasn't ready to face another unknown, another terrifying encounter.
He had faced the abominations because he had no choice. He had been forced to act, to fight, to survive. But this time, he had a choice. He could walk away. He could pretend he had something urgent to attend to, something that required his immediate attention.
And he had taken that choice. He had chosen to run.
He knew he was letting Mr. Suhat down. He knew he was letting himself down. He was supposed to be a hunter, brave and strong, someone who faced the danger without flinching. But he was just Gordon, a man still haunted by the shadows of his past, a man who desperately needed a moment to breathe.
Gordon sat on the floor, the weight of his fear and self-doubt pressing down on him. Lukas's words echoed in his mind, "You're a hero, Gordon." A bitter laugh escaped his lips. A hero? He couldn't even spend a night in a haunted house without running away. He was no braver than Lukas, who, at least, had the good sense to stay away from Mr. Suhat's house altogether.
He berated himself, replaying the night's events, the fear that had paralyzed him, the flimsy excuse he had given Mr. Suhat. He was a fraud, a coward masquerading as a hunter.
But amidst the self-recrimination, a spark of an idea flickered in his mind. He couldn't face the darkness alone, but he didn't have to. He knew someone who wouldn't mock his fear, someone who had proven his courage time and again.
Markus.
Markus, who had faced the hag's demonic power, who had stood against the high priest, who had never wavered in his determination to protect Oakhaven. Markus, who had awakened some kind of fire power, the very power that had saved Gordon's life.
Markus wouldn't judge him. He wouldn't call him a coward. He would understand. And he would help.
Gordon felt a surge of hope, a flicker of renewed determination. He knew Markus was the only person who could help him face this ghost, to confront the mystery that haunted Mr. Suhat's house.
He sank back onto his bed and decided he would go to Markus in the morning. He would face his friend with the light of day, when his fear was less overwhelming, when he could speak more clearly.
He lay in bed, the silence of the night pressing in on him. He replayed the events of the past few days, the unsettling atmosphere of Mr. Suhat's house, the faint shimmer, the lingering unease. He tried to understand it, to find its source, to conquer it.
He thought of Markus, his unwavering courage and his strength. He wondered how Markus would handle the situation, how he would face it, how he would find the answers.
He closed his eyes, his mind filled with images of shadows and whispers, of unseen eyes watching from the darkness. He drifted into a restless sleep, his dreams filled with unsettling visions and lingering dread.