Requiem

Chapter One: The Invitation

Chapter 1: The Invitation

Mikaa’s POV

The clock on the wall ticked away lazily, the faint sound mixing with the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional clatter of pencils falling off the desk. Our architecture studio had seen better days. Right now, it looked more like the aftermath of a hurricane, with blueprints scattered across the floor, coffee-stained sketchbooks piled on tables, and empty soda cans lining the window sills. Yet, here we were, five exhausted architecture students staring at our latest failed attempts at brilliance.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Jharine groaned from the desk beside mine, throwing down her pen like it had personally offended her. She slumped back in her chair, massaging her temples with exaggerated despair. “This project is sucking the life out of me.”

I smiled weakly. “You and me both.”

Our final design project for the semester loomed over us like a dark cloud. It wasn’t just another assignment—it was the assignment that would determine if we passed or failed this course. And so far, none of us have come up with anything remotely groundbreaking.

Kylene, who had been furiously erasing a part of her sketch for the past hour, paused to sigh dramatically. “At this point, I’d settle for a good night’s sleep. I’m seriously considering just handing in a stick-figure model of a house and calling it art.”

Chris, sitting across from her, laughed. “You might be onto something. Call it minimalism—‘The Essence of Structure,’ or something fancy like that. I bet some avant-garde professor would love it.”

“I’m with you, Kylene,” Jharine said, her voice deadpan. “At this point, a haunted mansion would be less terrifying than this project.”

Haunted. The word stuck in my head like a thorn. I hadn’t thought about the old family mansion in years. Yet, here I was, staring blankly at my half-finished blueprint, my mind wandering back to the strange letter that had arrived weeks ago. My parents had mentioned it casually over dinner, barely giving it a second thought: my great-grandmother’s old mansion in Quezon Province. It had been passed down through the generations, and now, for reasons that still baffled me, it was mine.

“I think we just need to get away for a bit,” Chris said, breaking the silence. “We’re all stuck, and we’re overthinking this. What we need is fresh air, a change of scenery, and something to spark our creativity.”

“That’s easier said than done,” I muttered, tapping my pencil against the table. “Where are we supposed to go? We’ve got deadlines, and we can’t just run off to some—”

“Actually,” Kenjie, my boyfriend, interrupted from his seat beside me, “maybe we can.”

I turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He flashed me that familiar mischievous grin of his—the one that always meant he was up to something. “Remember the letter from your parents? About your great-grandmother’s mansion?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, not sure where he was going with this.

“Well, why not check it out? It’s not too far from here, and from what I’ve heard, it’s huge. Perfect for what we need. Plus, you said it’s been abandoned for years, right? So no one would mind if we stayed there for a bit.”

I blinked, taken aback. “You’re suggesting we… go to an abandoned mansion… for inspiration?”

Kenjie shrugged, his grin widening. “Why not? Think about it—it's full of history, mystery, maybe even a few ghosts. It's the perfect setting to get our creative juices flowing. Plus, it’s free accommodation, and we’d be far away from distractions.”