Empty House and Scary Neighbor

In front of them stood a big house with stone cladding, surrounded by a high fence. The windows on the second floor were dimly lit, and near the entrance stood a large metal door that looked like something from World War II.

Robert got out of the car and, without turning around, opened the back door, signaling for everyone to get out.

"It's time," he said briefly, as if he didn't expect that they needed to explain anything.

Jerome was the last to come out and looked around the house. Three stories high, with tall windows, it looked like something Gothic, but there was nothing menacing about it. It was an old manor house in the Roman style, with majestic columns at the entrance and tightly closed windows through which barely a glimmer of light came. However, in this building, as old as the history of the city itself, there was a strange, elusive silence.

He felt his footsteps echoing off the stone walls as he approached the door. There was no sound inside, only a faint crackle of light, as if everything around him was trying to remain hidden, as if this place had been forgotten by time.

"So, are you ready?" asked Jo, who was standing next to him, her head slightly bowed and her eyes cast around the house with displeasure. She was clearly not thrilled with the place. "It's only getting weirder as we go along."

Jerome nodded silently. His gaze was still fixed on the front of the house, on its darkened windows, through which the streetlights were barely visible. Someone was obviously in the house, otherwise there would not have been a light on the second floor. He tried to collect his thoughts, but something about this place was bothering him. It was as if this building was watching them, part of some plan they perhaps had not yet begun to understand.

Robert, who was standing nearby, sniffed irritably.

"Let's go, let's not stand still," he said, opening the huge metal door. The creaking sound was unexpectedly loud in this silence. "We don't have much time."

Before Jereme could respond, they all walked inside. The dark, high-ceilinged hallways greeted them with a dead silence. Just beyond the door was a narrow staircase that led to the second floor. Old paintings hung on the walls, covered in dust, and the floor creaked with age, as if the house could talk-if it could.

"So here we are," Robert said, glancing at each of them. "You'll have to take a closer look. The task is simple - don't attract attention, don't touch anything, and just watch."

Jerome watched as Jo and Delia silently walked up the stairs. He followed them, feeling the tension in the air growing more and more palpable. Every step in this house echoed in his head, as if he himself were part of some complex game whose rules he did not yet know.

When they reached the second floor, a small hallway with several doors opened up before them. A light draft pierced the air, slightly fluttering the curtains by the window.

"Put your things here," Robert said, pointing to the corner of the room. "I'll arrange rooms for you to stay overnight while you watch."

"We don't have to stay here long, do we?" Delia asked, her voice quiet but with an odd air of confidence, as if she knew exactly what was going on.

Robert, ignoring the question, continued:

"We need to wait a few days. Be on guard. Someone local may want to talk to you, but no action until further instructions."

Jerome couldn't shake the feeling that Robert was keeping something secret. But in this house, everything was hidden, as if the very air around them didn't want to give clear answers. All that talk of surveillance and caution became just an echo in his head.

They continued to walk around the house. In one of the rooms they found an old fireplace, and next to it a table covered with various papers and books. A strange atmosphere permeated everything around, even the walls seemed alive.

"This is a wonderful place to observe," Jo finally said, looking around the room. "But why the hell did they send us here?"

Jereme still couldn't find an answer. He turned and looked at the windows, through which only the darkness of the night could be seen. Somewhere below he could hear the rustle of cars, but it was far away - the world continued to move, despite the fact that here, in this house, everything seemed to have stopped.

"We just have to be prepared," Robert said, standing by the door. "I'll see you in a few hours. Hopefully we can figure this out before it gets out of hand."

Jerome looked back at Delia and Jo, who seemed oblivious to the solemnity of the moment. They both walked silently to the front door, picked up the keys Robert had left on the table, and opened it. The sound of the creaking hinges seemed to deliberately break the silence that pervaded the house.

Jerome stood frozen, watching them walk inside. He couldn't shake the feeling that something important, something elusive, was happening right before his eyes. He could hear their footsteps, but he couldn't understand anything. They were as confident as ever, and yet aloof, as if they were part of something bigger here in this house than just following orders.

He sighed and followed them, feeling the cold air, saturated with the smell of old books and stone walls, penetrate his lungs. Stepping inside, he looked around. A long corridor stretched into the distance, and in the dim light of the lamps it seemed as if the house stretched out, hiding many secrets in its dark corners. Old pictures hung on the walls, dim and gloomy, and the floor under his feet clearly creaked, as if the house itself was reminding him of its age. The walls, too, seemed to be silent.

Delia and Jo ignored Jerome as they continued down the hallway. His eyes followed them, but he remained where he was by the door, feeling his heart begin to beat faster with the strange feeling that had gripped him since their arrival. Something was wrong with this house, and perhaps it was this strange, almost ominous atmosphere that made him feel like an outsider. Still, he pulled himself together and stepped forward as the girls entered one of the rooms.