While rummaging through the forgotten and dust-choked attic of the House of Lamentation, a close friend stumbles upon an old, timeworn journal-its leather cover cracked, its pages stained with age and secrets. Hidden beneath decades of clutter and cobwebs, it almost seemed like it wanted to remain undiscovered. But curiosity, as always, is a powerful force. As they begin to read, the atmosphere around them shifts-colder, heavier. The entries start innocently enough: scattered memories, half-finished thoughts, cryptic dreams. But soon, the words become darker, more desperate. The journal speaks not only of past tragedies that were deliberately buried, but of emotions that were never meant to be unearthed. Whispers begin to echo through the halls. Tensions rise. The brothers grow uneasy, as if the house itself remembers what they tried to forget. Something stirs beneath the surface-old wounds, forbidden truths, and feelings that never fully died. And then, without warning, the friend disappears from the Devildom... leaving behind only a single torn page and silence that tastes like grief. Some things should have stayed buried. Some hearts were never meant to be opened.