It wasn't about the mansion. He wasn't in the state of mind to care about architecture, views, or any of that. The mountains put enough distance between him and everything that had stopped being bearable - the city, the people, and the particular weight of memories that follows a person. Out there, there was none of that. Just space and quietness. The kind of nothing that a person in that condition desperately needs and almost never finds close to home.

But that last part turned out to be wrong. The house carries its own deep history, which is filled with unresolved tales that linger long after new occupants arrive. It seeps into every corner. What begins as minor, rare, unexplained sounds, sudden temperature shifts, and that eerie sensation of being observed in empty rooms slowly evolves into something he can no longer dismiss.