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Chapter 2 by Bungun Bungun

Pick your poison.

Victorian Doll

Two floors, an attic, and a basement. Of course, it wouldn't be a Victorian house without the ominous architecture. The rotten wood and dust are two big bonuses that sliced a significant percentage off the price. As for the rest of the discount, the estate agent summed it up as 'the house being old and acting up at times'.

"Nothing concerning," he also assured, choosing a flimsy-looking board to step in place, a smile adding to his proof.

Not that you cared. Your purchase is nothing more than a gamble after all, and it's already too late to change your mind. Looking through the open doorway, you can only act on your anticipation and assess your choice.

You step inside, tapping the walls and collecting dust on your fingertips as you feel the aged furniture. The musty air is not as pungent as when you first visited the house. However, it's this dust and smell that made you buy it in the first place, two good signs that it had not been touched in a long time.

You walk around some more, the fragile chandeliers being the scariest part of the gothic design as you probe every nook and cranny. Everything is where it should be, no question about it. And from what the estate agent told you, the previous owner was extremely fond of this house. The stash of valuables the same owner accumulated throughout their life must still be lying in some wall or secret chamber. Of that, you're sure. The only issue is where.

Where?

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