Set in the modern-day, where people living in 'Medley City' still believe in superstitions, it's often referred to as the 'City of Lonely Souls'. This is what people call it whenever they try asking for directions or mention someone living there.
Though the city now lives in the present, its darkness stretches back decades.
Strange deaths, whispered curses, and stories of haunted homes have plagued Medley since the late 1990s—when something changed, and the city’s soul was lost.
What happened back then still shapes the fears of today.
Medley City has always been a city of many stories.
That lady who speaks to herself—people say she talks to her son, who left her too soon and became a martyr. She still cooks three meals for two every day, setting the dining table, and having her meals with a cup of tea.
Just 15 steps ahead lies another tale—of a man and woman who leave the house every morning and return every night. They believe their landlord, who had an accident years ago, once called them for help. But they were at a club party. The next day, he was found dead. His funeral was already underway when they returned. They still don’t know why he called. Gossip spread, and delusions grew, causing them to blame themselves for the landlord’s death. When they consulted an exorcist, she told them the soul returns in the morning and sleeps at night. Holding a grudge, the spirit might turn their life into a horror story. They were advised to leave the house each morning to avoid chaos.
But they couldn't move out—the house was the only one with a low rental fee, and other reasons were unknown.
Then comes the story of a girl who used her blood to confess her love to a man on a wall, and then killed herself. She was obsessed. He was sent to a mental asylum.
Then, there’s the boy who died in an accident under the electric wires—vehicles in the city were mysteriously flattened, and nobody knew why. Many complained, but the city cameras didn’t capture anyone. Eventually, it was dubbed the Lonely Souls City—Medley City.
One of the most common types of cases, always ignored by the police and investigators, felt like a waste of time. These twisted cases ran in endless loops, with clues and results never aligning.
But then came the most interesting thing—an investigator who agreed to take one of the cases. He wanted to test his skills, prove his worth to the department, and believed he wouldn’t fail in solving this one either. He was a champion investigator. But his interest in this particular case wasn’t only professional. It was personal.
Sebastian Jed, also known as The Eagle of the department, wasn’t even assigned the case. But while browsing the unsolved case files, he found a peculiar one. He chose it deliberately.
“I’m taking this,” he said.
“Though you are the Eagle of this department, let me warn you. People in this city file strange cases that usually aren’t considered. There’s never a clear answer, and some even fabricate stories,” said his chief.
“Exactly. Maybe they twist the truth and spread stories to hide it. So people never find out what really happened,” Sebastian replied.
“I know why you insist on this case,” the chief smirked.
“You know?” Sebastian paused. “Then you know that once I take on a case, the only thing you’ll be seeing is the result. I’m leaving now. I’ll handle this by myself—less hassle for you, Chief.” And with that, Sebastian left.
After hours of reviewing the mysterious case of Medley City—the City of Souls—one thing became clear: every person affected had either been lonely, lost someone, was obsessed, or mentally unstable. So maybe, the problem wasn’t with the people—it was with the city itself.
To know more, Sebastian had to understand the city’s history—how it came into existence.
Whenever colleagues asked if he had really chosen to take the Medley City case, his answer was always the same:
"Yes."
Just that—firm, unwavering, and full of quiet confidence.
When Sebastian was a child, his mother used to live there. Back then, life was normal. But after she died, the city turned into one of suicides, deaths, and mentally unwell people left mourning their lost ones.
The case he was now appointed to was centered on a house—partitioned into two rooms by a man named Klorius Vedalvauth, a strange name for a strange man. He bought the house in the early 1990s and died in 1996, telling people the house was haunted. After his death, 50 residents who lived there—each for exactly one year—were found dead.
But the city needed housing. Many dismissed talk of ghosts, possession, or spirits as superstitions. So the house was rented by Klorius’s son, Jerry.
The eerie similarity was this: every single one of the 50 left behind the same death note:
“I couldn’t take it. I had to take my life.”
While the wording remained identical, the handwriting varied across 4–5 distinct styles.
Sebastian decided to investigate.
He moved from Winley City to Medley City and entered one of the two rooms in the partitioned house.
The house was surprisingly clean, though a strange, overpowering smell lingered. The kitchen, bedroom, and restroom were all suitable for a bachelor. He placed four sets of clothes into the cupboard. The bathroom floor was wet—as if someone had just used it. Under the bed, he found a torch—his first piece of evidence—covered in fingerprints.
In the hall, connected to a television and song player, he collected samples of dust and prints.
He was told the adjacent room was the one believed to be under a spell.
For ten peaceful days, nothing happened.
Then one morning, someone knocked at his door. On the threshold lay a parcel.
No one was in sight.
Inside the parcel was a cassette.
When Sebastian returned to the chief, he requested a cassette player. The chief, uninterested in arguing, simply handed one over.
The next morning, another parcel arrived—this time with a cassette player and a photo album of Sebastian’s childhood.
He now had two cassette players—one from the chief, one from the mystery sender.
Sebastian suspected the case was connected to Lora Hooke, his old lover. She had died in the very room next door. He had lived in the illusion that she had cheated on him and broken up. But she had actually died five years ago—part of the same 50-member mystery.
When he opened the door again the next day, he marked the time: 10:15 a.m.
He tried catching the parcel deliverer 15 minutes early but failed.
The next parcel came again—at 10:30 a.m. Same time the following day.
He noted: first two days at 10:15 a.m., followed by a one-day gap, then 10:30 a.m. for two days. He predicted the following day would be a gap again.
The sender clearly knew about Sebastian’s personal life—and possibly Lora.
Each of the 50 members had also received parcels—right before they became suicidal.
“So it’s probably not about spirits or ghosts. Someone is making people vulnerable by exploiting their weaknesses—pushing them to the edge. But how could all 50, including Lora, be so easily broken? That’s the mystery,” said Sebastian.
The clues: a non-functioning cassette, a broken player, an album of childhood memories with scratched-out images, and Lora’s chain—a gift he never gave her.
On the 16th night, a water pipe burst in the kitchen. Sebastian sealed the leak with anti-corrosive tape but noted it looked intentionally damaged.
The house’s map was clear:
Bedroom to the right, restroom 10 steps in.
Kitchen straight, 20 steps.
Hall 3 steps, with sofa and dining table.
Door gate 10 steps away.
Every night, something broke:
Kitchen basin pipe, vase on the dining table, television screen, door knob from outside.
And each time, the smell—smoke, blood, or diesel—grew stronger.
All signs pointed to him being the 51st target.
He called the landlord. Two days later, Jerry arrived.
“Mr. Sebastian, would you prefer staying in the other room?”
“I won’t stay here—or in the other room. I heard 50 people died before me. Is it true?” Sebastian asked, suspicious.
“Nonsense! People here love creating stories. I’m perfectly fine, aren’t I?” Jerry replied, smiling weirdly.
Sebastian refused to stay and paid only $500 instead of the agreed $2000. Jerry protested.
“We agreed on $2000, mister!”
But Sebastian fled to his department.
For 14 days, nothing happened.
Then, he visited the city’s exorcist—the one 50 members had previously consulted.
“The room is haunted. I remember all 50 souls. If you’re searching for a solution—take this amulet. Hang it in a room’s corner and watch,” she said.
“Mr…?”
“Sebastian,” he replied with a grin—in disguise.
The two rooms were emptied. The house sealed.
But days later, a woman arrived—blonde, perm-haired, smooth-skinned: Emil Josh.
Wearing a long gown and straw hat, she checked into the other room.
She stayed for 14 days. On the 11th and 12th days—parcels arrived. One day gap, then again on the 14th day at 10:15 and 10:30 a.m.
She was the 52nd target.
Her parcels included an ink pen, lock and key, a fake blood finger, and a hammer.
The same strange events began—smoke, pipe bursts, broken knob.
She smiled when reviewing CCTV footage of the other room.
Both rooms were exact opposites—bedroom right in one, left in the other. The rooms were mirror images, separated only by one door.
One night, she was up at 3 a.m., eating scrambled eggs and ice cream when she heard drilling from the other room.
The lights went out. She was pushed while checking the fuse.
But she wasn’t afraid.
She invited friends for a few nights. Some fell ill—upset stomach, fever, fatigue.
Then, no more parcels.
Only the drills continued.
She checked CCTV again—nothing. Destroyed.
The house had been originally built by Rooster Bruce, sold to Klorius Vedalvauth, and inherited by Jerry. All 50 members were from Medley City—people of weak souls, easily drawn by negativity.
The land itself was cursed. Once someone entered, leaving was nearly impossible.
Mistakes, fear, and guilt were used as weapons.
Eventually, even Emil left.
Jerry renovated, removed all furniture, and sealed the house.
A month later, Sebastian returned.
Despite claims the house was empty, it had been used.
In both rooms, a frame of two hands reaching out to each other remained.
The door connecting the rooms was locked. Sebastian sent the frame for forensic analysis.
Results revealed it was painted by Jeff—a struggling artist forced by his adopted parents to give up his dream. They burned his paintings. He died back then—or so people believed.
But his fingerprints proved otherwise.
Sebastian rented the second room and stayed one night.
Someone tried unlocking the door.
A man entered.
Sebastian kicked down the door between the two rooms and stood tall, arms crossed, silently waiting for his team to catch up.
He narrowed his eyes. The resemblance was uncanny—identical features, minus the scar above the man’s eyebrow.
Jeff Vedalvauth. Sebastian got chills.
Jeff, adopted by Klorius, once lived in the house with a lover who died mysteriously. Grief turned to vengeance. The house became his tool.
With an exorcist’s help, he preyed on people’s weaknesses—using amulets, curses, and manipulations—pushing them to end their lives.
After his lover died, she was called a dirty soul and thrown into a river. To torment Jeff, they partitioned the house—symbolizing their eternal separation.
Jeff vowed revenge. He planted blades, notes, poisons—tools for self-destruction.
Sebastian wasn’t killed.
He’d already anticipated it all.
His team arrived. Jeff was captured.
The twist?
Emil Josh—was Sebastian in disguise.
The real Emil feared drills and blood.
In court, Sebastian exposed Jeff’s crimes—how he used spells and illegal exorcisms. How he manipulated 50 innocent souls.
Sebastian had never known he had a twin.
Only when he read Jeff’s file—and saw the scarred face that mirrored his own—did the truth hit him.
Jeff wasn’t just the killer.
He was the brother their mother had abandoned… because she could only afford to raise one.
“You didn’t kill me… but you let me flee. Am I right?” Sebastian asked.
Jeff smirked. “I saw you when you entered—like a shadow. I don’t need weapons. I find cracks in people... and speak to them through those.”
“Lora Hooke,” Sebastian said. “You made her vulnerable.”
“She was already breaking,” Jeff replied. “Afraid of her illness. Then she found that burnt family photo… your letter... the diary. I didn’t tell her to die. I just gave her what she was already looking for.”
He turned to face Sebastian fully.
“The strong never listen to me,” he said, voice low and calm. “The others? They only need a reason. I gave it to them. They chose the rest.”
And so, the case was solved—leaving behind broken hearts, the terror of losing his one true love, and the haunting truth that the killer was his own brother: a man who had twisted the fears of innocent souls into their undoing, all for a sin that was never truly theirs to bear.
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