Aldrian sat on the bed, his gaze fixed on the old diary now resting in his hands. The soft rays of the setting sun filtered through the large window beside him, casting a warm light that felt strangely intimate. His fingers gently traced the edges of the pages before he turned to the next one. Taking a deep breath, he began to read slowly, allowing himself to sink into every word written there.
He was greeted by elegant, orderly handwriting. Each word was etched with emotion, as if Kana were speaking directly to him—a letter that had never reached its intended recipient.
Today, the sun is shining brightly. I sat on a bench in the garden, enjoying its warmth and the refreshing scent of flowers. It feels like the world is smiling at me. I feel at peace here, surrounded by such beauty.
The entry recounted Kana's daily life with delicate detail. She wrote about the little joys she experienced when the rain fell, her love for the flowers blooming in the backyard, and how she spent her afternoons sipping warm tea while admiring the sunset—sometimes taking walks around the house as the seasons changed. Aldrian could almost see and feel every moment she described. Her writing painted a vivid picture of a simple yet fulfilling life, full of beauty and often-overlooked contentment.
As Aldrian continued reading, he found notes describing Kana's interactions with those around her. She wrote about the friends she met, small delightful moments, and how deeply connected she felt to the world. Each story revealed a different side of Kana—one filled with warmth and gratitude. Aldrian couldn't help but admire her.
One particular entry caught his attention. Kana described her daily habit of walking around her neighborhood, noting how she loved the sound of her footsteps on the pavement and how the changing weather gave each day a new mood. Aldrian imagined her strolling leisurely, taking in the world with quiet appreciation.
Yet, as time passed, Aldrian began to feel that the diary might be nothing more than a collection of personal reflections—unrelated to the strange whispers he often heard. The words, though full of warmth and beauty, seemed to be expressions of Kana's inner world, not hints of anything darker or more mysterious as he had hoped.
Then, on another page, Aldrian found a different tone—a darker, more introspective entry. Kana wrote about her melancholic feelings, about how she sometimes felt isolated even in familiar surroundings. There were moments when the world seemed quiet and distant, and she had to fight off that weight of loneliness.
There are days when I feel like a stranger, even among people I know. Sometimes, it's as if there's an invisible wall between me and the world, and I struggle to break through it. Maybe it's just a passing feeling, but sometimes it's so heavy.
Aldrian paused, lifting his eyes from the pages, feeling a strange heaviness settle in his chest. He could sense Kana's loneliness and vulnerability through those words—feelings he, too, had once experienced. The world around him might appear fine, yet something always felt … hollow.
Despite beginning to feel emotionally connected to Kana, Aldrian still couldn't find any clear clues linking her to the mysterious events happening in the house.
With a thoughtful breath, he decided to stop reading for now. While Kana's diary offered a comforting glimpse into her life, it didn't provide the answers he was looking for.
He gently placed the diary on the table. His gaze lingered on the pages he had read, torn between curiosity and uncertainty. The diary offered warmth and closeness, but none of the clarity he sought.
"Maybe … there's really nothing to worry about?" he whispered to himself, exhaling slowly.
He chose to shift his focus elsewhere for the time being. Perhaps another piece of the puzzle lay hidden in a different part of the house. Kana's diary might just be one fragment of a much larger story, and Aldrian felt a growing need to tread more carefully in his investigation.
Still … perhaps none of it meant anything. Not the whispering walls. Not the diary. Perhaps it was all just the product of a weary mind.
Lying down on the bed, he tried to calm his thoughts. The quiet of the room brought a strange comfort, though something still felt off—lingering, unspoken.
Before leaving the room, his eyes fell once more on the closed diary. There was a pull he couldn't explain—a silent call to open it again and dive deeper into Kana's story, a story that somehow felt too close.
But not tonight.
A part of him wasn't ready to uncover what lay beyond those unread pages.