The town welcomed me with silence.Not the peaceful kind—the kind that makes you feel like something is being hidden.I arrived at the beginning of summer. New house, new school, new routine. Everything felt normal, except one thing. Near the river stood a small white house. Always clean. Always closed. And strangely… always lit in the evenings.At exactly seven o’clock, the lights would turn on.By morning, they vanished.No one lived there. At least, that’s what everyone said.When I asked about it, people smiled politely and changed the topic. Some pretended they didn’t hear me. Others said, “Old property. Nothing important.”But I