Adrian reached the town square by early afternoon.
The walk back from the lake had been quiet. A few old women passed him on the road and gave polite nods. One man stared a little too long but said nothing. The town was used to strangers — but not to people returning after a decade.
The square itself hadn't changed.
Same old fountain in the center. Same broken benches. Same small shops that looked tired and almost forgotten. But there was something comforting in it, too. Like the town was holding on.
And then he saw it.
The tailor's shop.
Its wooden sign still hung above the door, though the paint had faded. The shop had been closed for years after the tailor died. Nobody had bought it. People said it was haunted. Kids used to dare each other to knock on the door and run.
Adrian stepped closer.
There it was — the red window.
A piece of stained glass in the corner, glowing faintly in the weak sunlight. Most of the other pieces were broken or cloudy. But the red one… it was clean. Bright.
And behind it, something was tucked into the crack of the wooden window frame.
He reached up.
A folded piece of paper.
He opened it quickly.
"Not all ghosts are dead.
Some are waiting.
Some are watching.
Inside the wall, behind the mirror."
— E.
His hands shook slightly.
Inside the wall. Behind the mirror.
He didn't understand right away. Then it clicked.
There used to be a mirror in Eva's old bedroom. A large, oval one. When she was younger, she had once told him there was a loose plank behind it — a hollow space in the wall where she used to hide things.
But her family moved away after she disappeared. The house was still there, but empty now. No one had dared to live in it since.
Could he go back there?
He wasn't sure.
But if Eva left another clue, that's where it would be.
He folded the note and slipped it into his notebook beside the others. His notebook was starting to feel heavier — not from weight, but from meaning. Like it had become part of the mystery too.
He looked around the square again. A few people watched him. He nodded politely, then walked away, heading toward the north side of town — toward Eva's old house.
He remembered every step.
The street. The corner with the old tree. The garden wall covered in ivy. The gate, now rusty and hanging open. The path, once clean, now cracked with weeds.
He stood in front of the door.
Took a deep breath.
And pushed it open.
The house groaned like a person waking from a long sleep. Dust filled the air. The floorboards creaked under his steps. Old furniture sat covered in white sheets like forgotten ghosts.
He made his way upstairs.
The hallway was narrow and dark. He passed her parents' old room. Then her brother's. Then finally… hers.
Eva's room.
He opened the door slowly.
Nothing had changed. The bed was still there. The desk. The bookshelf, half empty. And on the wall, covered in dust and cobwebs…
The mirror.
He walked over, heart pounding.
He ran his fingers behind the frame, searching for the edge of the loose plank she had once told him about.
And there it was — a small gap.
He pulled.
The plank came loose with a soft snap.
Behind it was a small hollow space.
Inside: a tiny notebook, leather-bound and tied with string.
And a photo.
It was of him and Eva.
But it wasn't one he remembered.
They were standing by the lake, smiling. But someone else had taken the photo. Someone who had been watching.
Adrian stared at it.
Then slowly untied the notebook.
Inside were pages of Eva's handwriting.
But one sentence stood alone, circled in red ink:
"If something happens to me, follow the trail.
Start with the boy in the black coat."
Adrian's hands went cold.
The boy in the black coat.
That was him.