Chapter 24: The Psychological Shadows of Grace and Vera

Chapter 24: The Haunting Fears of Grace and Vera

Though Vera and Grace belonged to different social classes, they shared a common hobby—reading.

Reading was encouraged and regarded as a model pastime for the rational mind. Vera usually enjoyed romance novels, and she’d developed unrealistic expectations for a partner because of the love stories within them. However, after she became this monster, those expectations shattered like bubbles. In the face of survival crises, no one was in the mood for romance.

Though she still immersed herself in those beautiful love stories, she had come to realize that such happiness might never happen in her own life.

Her parents were devout believers, so romance novels were considered taboo in her household. She typically only read myths and historical tales, occasionally sneaking peeks at detective novels. Though she had once attempted writing, she quickly discovered she lacked the talent for it.

When the two sat together, preparing to read Elena’s story, they ran into a problem—who should read first? Vera’s wide, bulky dress made it impossible for them to sit too close or share the same book.

“Maybe you should go first?” Vera said hesitantly. “Elena said this is a very scary story. I think I need some mental preparation.”

“Sure. Should I read it aloud?” Grace asked eagerly.

“No, no,” Vera quickly waved her hands.

Grace, wanting to get it over with quickly, took the manuscript and moved the oil lamp closer, starting to read the first page.

Grace’s eyes were fixed on the manuscript as she read word by word. Vera, meanwhile, quietly observed her expression, as if trying to guess the story’s content from her reactions.

As the pages turned, a tense, suffocating mood settled over the room, as if the air had gone still. Grace’s brows furrowed slightly; she occasionally inhaled sharply or straightened her posture.

Vera noticed Grace’s hands were shaking slightly. Suddenly, Grace stopped and looked up, taking a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?” Vera asked with concern.

Grace was silent for a moment before slowly setting down the manuscript. “I need a break.”

Vera stared at the manuscript as if it were some kind of monster. “Is it that scary?”

“So, so scary,” Grace said, showing the goosebumps on her arms. “I never thought words could frighten someone to this extent.”

Vera was even more hesitant to read it. Yet, out of her promise to Elena, she put on a brave face. “Let me see?”

She usually disliked gory descriptions and had always avoided the Gothic novels of the Mystical Society. Though she had mentally prepared herself for pages filled with gore, reality was entirely different from her imagination.

The story depicted a peaceful, ordinary family that received an unusual letter, after which a series of bizarre events unfolded. However, unlike the bloody, death-filled scenes she had expected, the story involved no corpses, no descriptions of torture, nor any eerie elements like dungeons, secret passages, or ancient castles.

The protagonists—a man and a woman—were completely ordinary at first, living an unremarkable life in a terraced apartment in Luneton. The contrast only confused Vera more. Even though she hadn’t read many ghost stories, they always featured a madman, a murderer, blood everywhere… that kind of thing. Otherwise, how could they scare anyone?

The ordinary setting made it too easy for her to immerse herself. Soon, she was lost in the story—until the scares began, one after another. Every time the protagonist was frightened, Vera, outside the pages, flinched in sympathy.

“This is terrifying,” Vera couldn’t help murmuring. “God, how does Elena come up with such horrifying scenes? I can’t even imagine looking through a door crack and seeing a blood-red eyeball staring back.”

Grace, her ears sharp, vigorously rubbed her arms, as if trying to shake off the fear.

Just as Vera slowed her breathing, fully lost in the story, she read about how the protagonist occasionally felt pain in the back of his neck, which he initially chalked up to sitting too long.

“While Adam was drowning in work, his young son, Aiden, suddenly burst into tears in the bedroom. Alice hurried in and found Aiden pointing fearfully toward the study.

‘Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ Alice asked worriedly, only for Aiden to cry even harder.

Suppressing her unease, Alice led the sobbing child to the study. There, she found Adam buried in his work, the child’s cries echoing loudly in the quiet room.

‘Adam, why is Aiden so scared?’ Alice looked at Adam with concern.

Adam lifted his head, puzzled by the terror in his son’s eyes. He reached up to touch his own head. At that moment, Aiden’s cries grew even more shrill, as if trying to convey something, his eyes wide with fear.”

Alice checked the child and noticed little Aiden kept staring in his father's direction. His pupils reflected a woman in a white dress hanging above the husband's desk, her head in a noose, hanging straight down, her black hair cascading over her face. Her body swayed slightly with the rope’s movement, her toes rhythmically tapping against the back of the husband's neck.

She could almost hear the tapping—*thud, thud, thud...*

A knock sounded from the living room.

"Ahhh—!" Vera shrieked in a very unladylike manner, startling Grace, who also screamed. Their voices broke from fright, nearly giving the person at the door a heart attack.

"Hey, hey, it's me—Reginald!" Reginald covered his ears and quickly called out, worried their screams would draw others and require awkward explanations.

"Oh, it's you," Vera said, almost in tears, her voice trembling. "You nearly scared me to death."

"You nearly scared me to death," Reginald retorted, equally startled. "What are you two up to? I saw the living room light still on late at night and thought someone forgot to turn it off. I didn’t expect to find you two here. What are you up to? You almost blew out my eardrums!"

Vera took deep breaths, her emotions still running high. Luckily, her corset was loose enough that she didn’t faint from the shock—she had no desire to sniff smelling salts, which were essentially ammonium carbonate mixed with perfumes, smelling like a hundred years’ worth of concentrated outhouse stink. The stench alone was enough to jolt those fainting ladies awake.

"We were reading Elena’s new story," Grace said. "It’s so scary your knock made us jump."

Reginald wanted to read it too, but being a gentleman, he held back. "Well, you two should head back and rest soon," he said, reluctantly glancing at the manuscript on Vera’s lap before bowing and leaving. Vera and Grace shared a nervous glance.

"I can’t keep reading," Vera surrendered first. "No way—I’d have nightmares for sure. No question."

"Same," Grace nodded, looking just as scared. They sat there, too scared to move.

"Let’s leave together," Vera said, linking arms with Grace. "I don’t dare walk back alone."

The next day, Vera and Grace returned the manuscript to Elena, both with dark circles under their eyes.

"I didn’t sleep a wink last night," Vera said, almost in tears. "Every time I closed my eyes, those horrifying scenes played out. Sometimes I really hate my own imagination."

Grace looked equally miserable. "I did sleep, but I kept waking up screaming."

They both shot Elena pitiful glances.

"You two came together?" Elena asked, puzzled as she took back the manuscript.

Vera laughed weakly. "After reading your story last night, neither of us dared to sleep alone, so Grace stayed in my room. Now I get why you were so sure—that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever read. I might not sleep alone for days."

"I did warn you," Elena said apologetically. "But you didn’t believe me."

It was too late for regrets now. She felt guilty. She knew her story was frightening, but she hadn’t expected it to disrupt their sleep—well, not entirely unexpected, but she’d assumed reading it together would soften the blow.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would be *this* scary," Elena said sheepishly. "I was just playing with classic horror tropes. I didn’t expect the effect to be so intense."

Vera shook her head, forcing a smile. "It’s our fault for being too easily frightened. This is your creation—you shouldn’t apologize for our nightmares."

Grace nodded in agreement. "True, the story is so unconventional. Maybe we just need time to adjust."

"Still," Vera yawned, "I have to say, if your goal was to scare people, you absolutely succeeded."

As for the horror story itself, Vera had no further critiques—she’d been thoroughly terrified. Grace, however, earnestly suggested that the beginning could be even more mundane.

"Like a slice-of-life novel," Grace gestured. "A warm, ordinary family with a sweet child. I think that part could be expanded. The contrast with what comes later would be even sharper, drawing readers in—especially the more timid ones."

Vera gave Grace a strange look, surprised that someone so gentle could have such a devious mind.

"You’re right," Elena mused, examining the story from a reader’s perspective. "I should add more everyday details, not jump straight into the strange letter."

Vera could already imagine unsuspecting readers being lured in. She pitied them—but also couldn’t wait for them to suffer the same sleepless fate.