The Haunting Sonata (Taekook)
Prologue
"𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺"
The moving of car tiers and the warm hum of the engine was the only sound audible.
"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴' 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘉𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘐 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦."
The late afternoon sun hung low, casting an amber glow over the winding countryside, but the warmth did little to ease the knot in his chest.
Taehyung’s stomach growled, snapping him out of his reverie. He hadn’t eaten since dawn, and the weight of the day pressed down on him. Spotting a faded sign for a roadside diner, he pulled over, the car’s engine ticking as it cooled.
The diner was a relic, its neon sign flickering like a dying heartbeat. Inside, the air smelled of fried oil and stale coffee. He ordered a quick meal, barely tasting the kimbap as he stared out the grimy window, the distant silhouette of Busan’s hills looming like silent sentinels.
Morever there had been a death,of a caretaker,at the manor. He needed to check for that at the hospital too.
Eden Hospital was a stark, white building that looked more like a fortress than a place of healing. Its halls were too quiet, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. A nurse led Taehyung to the hospital’s basement, where the air grew colder, heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. The doctor, a gaunt man with tired eyes, met him outside the mausoleum.
doctor
“Mr. Kim,” the doctor said, his voice clipped. “Do you know this man?”
Taehyung stepped into the sterile room, the chill seeping into his bones. On the metal slab lay a body, pale and still, covered by a thin sheet. The doctor pulled it back, revealing the face of an older man, his features frozen in an expression of quiet terror. Taehyung’s breath caught.
He said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kim Taehyung
“He’s Han, the caretaker of Glen Manor. But… what happened to him?”
doctor
“Heart attack,” the doctor replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he adjusted his glasses.
Kim Taehyung
“Heart attack?”
Taehyung echoed, frowning. Han had been old but sturdy, the kind of man who seemed carved from the earth itself. A heart attack felt… wrong.
-
Taehyung’s mind raced as he followed the police officer out of the hospital, the weight of the encounter pressing against his chest. Outside, the air was sharp with the scent of rain, and the sky had darkened, heavy clouds rolling in from the sea. Two figures stood near the hospital entrance, their faces etched with grief and something else—fear. Dongho and Ilan, the remaining servants of Glen Manor, stood huddled together, their eyes darting nervously toward Taehyung as he approached.
Taehyung said softly, his voice steady despite the unease creeping up his spine.
Kim Taehyung
“I’m sorry for what happened to Han. The doctors said it was a heart attack.”
Dongho’s gaze snapped to Taehyung, his weathered face tightening.
unknown
“There was no heart attack, sir,”
He said, his voice low, almost a growl.
unknown
“The cause of his death is the same devil.”
Ilan, a wiry woman with gray streaks in her hair, stepped forward, her eyes wide with a mix of sorrow and dread.
unknown
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice trembling. “The same devil who lives in that house. We told your father, begged him to listen, but he wouldn’t. And now…” Her voice cracked. “He paid the price with his life.”
Kim Taehyung
“Dongho, Ilan,”
He said, trying to keep his tone calm, professional.
Kim Taehyung
“Han died of a heart attack. It’s in the post-mortem report.”
Dongho’s eyes burned with a quiet intensity.
unknown
“Sir, that report is for city folk who don’t know better. But we can’t stay in that house anymore. We love our lives more than money.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of old, tarnished keys, pressing them into Taehyung’s hand. The metal was cold, heavier than it should have been.
Dongho said, his voice final. Ilan nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Without another word, they turned and walked away, their figures swallowed by the gathering dusk.
Taehyung stood alone in the hospital parking lot, the keys biting into his palm. He glanced toward the hills, where Glen Manor waited, its dark silhouette barely visible against the stormy sky. The mansion was supposed to be a simple sale, a quick job to tie up loose ends for his father’s company.
He climbed into his car, the engine roaring to life.
As he drove toward Glen Manor, the road seemed to stretch endlessly before him.
1
The road to Ildong was a ribbon of asphalt that wound through Busan’s jagged coastline, flanked by cliffs that loomed like silent sentinels under the bruised October sky. Kim Taehyung gripped the steering wheel of his father’s sleek company sedan.
At twenty-six, Taehyung was no stranger to high-stakes deals—his father’s real estate empire demanded it—but Glen Manor was different. The sprawling estate, had been a thorn in the company’s side for years. No one could sell it. No one wanted to. And now, it was his problem.
Mist curls like pale hands around pine trunks. The sound of wheels on gravel is the only movement in the eerie silence.
Kim Taehyung
(flat, weary)
"Ildong,Busan. Five hours from Seoul. My father said it’d be a simple job — “check the house, fix the papers, and leave.”
Yeah… simple."
The car halts before an ancient, sprawling mansion, half-eaten by ivy. Its name carved into the rusted gate — GLEN MANOR.
Taehyung steps out, tailored coat, suitcase in hand, his breath visible in the cold.
He unlocks the gate; it screeches open like a dying animal.
Kim Taehyung
(under his breath)
"Great start."
The wind seems to whisper through the cracks of the estate.
His father’s words echoed in his mind: “Don’t screw this up, Taehyung. Glen Manor’s a goldmine if you can crack it.”
Dust motes dance in weak daylight streaming through stained glass. The mansion smells of wood rot and old perfume.
Taehyung flicks the main light switch — nothing.
He opens his phone flashlight and walks deeper inside.
Every footstep echoes as if the house itself is breathing.
IN THE KITCHEN
On the table — a half-drunk cup of tea, the surface still faintly stained. A chair slightly pulled out.
Kim Taehyung
(to himself)
Did they just... leave everything here?
He checks the caretaker’s ledger lying open. Scribbled notes fill the last page — shaky handwriting.
> “Voices again from the east wing. Heard the piano at 2:03 AM. Locked the cellar. Won’t go down there again.”
A long creak comes from above.
Then, faintly — the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.
Taehyung looks up — flashlight trembling.
His pulse quickened, but he squared his shoulders. Probably rats. Or pipes. Old houses like this were full of noises.
The staircase stretches upward into shadow.
Kim Taehyung
If this is one of the locals, I’m calling the cops!
The steps stop.
He slowly ascends, one hand on the banister.
Halfway up, a door slams somewhere. The noise echoes like thunder.
Kim Taehyung
(under his breath)
Lord—
The candle flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to writhe on the walls. His skin prickled. He took a step back, his hand brushing against something cold and metallic—a locket, dangling from a shelf. It was engraved with initials: J.K.
Before he could examine it, a voice cut through the silence.
unknown
You shouldn’t stay after dark.
Taehyung turns — a man stands near the fence, wearing a long brown coat, hands in pockets. His eyes are strangely calm, almost glowing in the dim light.
Kim Taehyung
(excusing himself)
Sorry? Who are you?
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