Here's chapter 2! Sorry for the wait, I'll try to be more regular with my upcoming chapters.

Many thanks to Kokodoru for the beta-reading!

Luka closed her front door with a happy sigh. The day had gone well: she'd followed some stranger halfway across the city, and learned quite a few shortcuts. The more time she spent in the city, the more she knew it. She felt that at that point, her knowledge of the streets and alleys was borderline intimate, and she hadn't ever looked at a map.

She was surprised that being followed was an actual kink some people apparently had. Her post wasn't resoundingly popular, and it didn't pay as much as she had truly hoped, but every now and then she had a big client with strange requests and loads of cash. One such request was that she made her presence known through reflections in windows, opening doors, and the like. It was a tall order, and it was difficult to fill: normally she avoided being seen. She had donned a hoodie because she didn't want to be recognized. He was quite happy nonetheless. Another request was that she take pictures of the person she followed, to prove that she was tracking them. Photography was not her strong suit, but it was more fun than she had expected. She was swift with the small camera, so much so that nobody ever saw her take a picture.

She wondered if people came in from different countries just to be safely followed, sometimes. One email, poorly translated, requested that they meet in a large old house. She'd stalk the individual through the halls. Maybe it was a horror film thing, she wondered.

Ah, but she was certain of one thing: because of the versatility of the requests, she was slowly becoming an expert stalker in every setting, weather or location.

Luka had no idea where to find blueprints for a home. She even wondered if it was legal to know the blueprints of a building she didn't own. Her mission was a delicate one, so she quickly decided that she wouldn't even try asking around for that kind of information; before she knew it, the family made sure it would be inaccessible, and the moment someone tried to find out, that someone would get arrested.

Luka decided to simply go on with her list of things she had to do, and forget the blueprints.

The rest of her list was truly an amalgamation of easy-to-find things; measuring tape, flashlight, oil. The flashlight had adjustable luminosity, the tape was over ten meters long, and the oil came with a little pipe for easy, spill-free application. All were relatively tiny, so she could fit them in a small bag she would sling over her shoulder and keep under her shirt.

She made sure that her materials were ready for that evening; she hadn't been back to the house for two days and wanted to be sure that she wouldn't forget anything. Just as she put the small bag down, she remembered to bring glue. She figured that regular glue would do the trick, so her everyday household glue went in the bag as well.

She wondered why she hadn't returned right away. After all, the longer she left the broken lock in place, the more likely it became that someone would find it. Maybe she was waiting for an article, or a sign that they knew that she'd been there. She was, of course, beyond nervous. The mere idea of having to go back there made her shake and sweat. She didn't want to go back to that bedroom; she didn't want to be so vulnerable; she didn't want to do it.

Staying calm helped her collect her thoughts. She could do it. She would do it. She'd return that day.

Her phone rang, startling her more than she would like to admit.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Luka!"

The young woman immediately recognized her mother's voice. With a soft smile, she wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear, knowing it wouldn't be a brief chat.

"Hey, mum. How are things?"

"Oh sweetheart, it's so nice to hear you again. It's been a while since you called!"

Luka rolled her eyes, silently sighing as she answered, "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I have a full-time job now, and that's been taking up a lot of time."

"Yes, Lily phoned us about that earlier."

Luka stopped herself from scoffing, but did take the phone back in her hand. "Is that so?"

"Yes, she called us as she was waiting for her plane to Europe. She's worked for months to be able to get this vacation. It's unfortunate you two haven't been able to spend more time together."

"Yeah…" Luka answered halfheartedly, freeing her hands again.

Luka carefully chose her clothes for that night as they spoke. She hesitated between two black shirts, wondering which would be best; wool or acrylic?

"So, you're working an office job, calling people?"

She paused, detecting the tone in which her mother spoke, "Yeah."

She chose the wool.

"Luka...didn't you always love to sing? Or history?"

"History was always a hobby of mine," answered Luka, knowing fully well by that point that her mother felt much like her best friend did. "I was afraid that studying it too much would take the fun out of it."

"Right, but-"

"And you told me yourself that music is hopeless to pursue," Luka finished, unable to keep that last grain of bitterness off her tongue.

"Right."

A heavy pause followed. Luka was used to this, and let her mother think as she laid out her clothes on the bed. She checked her watch; she had to go in about an hour. It was already quite dark out, and she didn't want to let the night get too old before she left.

"Are you happy, Luka? Lily said you were happy..."

Luka picked up a letter she had on her table, quickly skimming its contents before putting it back on the table.

"Don't worry so much, mom. I'm happy."

There she was again. The home came into her view as she approached it with even steps. No rush, just breathe, she told herself. Just breathe.

She slipped into the garden unseen, but her heart had started to protest once more. She wondered when she'd get accustomed to it all.

The light was already off when she arrived, making Luka curse. She checked her watch and noticed that she was late. Luckily the man was very punctual, so she knew when he'd gone to bed. Twenty minutes later, with no sign of life, Luka crept towards the basement.

When she tried to push the window open, she heard the lock clatter to the floor. Her heart didn't waste a second to return to its race, and Luka was petrified. The noise had been so incredibly loud, and the stupid thing had bounced multiple times!

But nobody came.

Luka sighed, easing the window open with a bit more finesse. She crept inside and retrieved the broken lock. Ten minutes and a bunch of glue later, the lock was back in its original location, rusted through and through, broken and useless. It sure did look reassuring, though. A nice little illusion of security.

Luka pocketed the glue, wondering how long her visit would last. Would she stay long enough for the glue to dry enough for a quick and silent exit?

She crept up the stairs, acting too quickly for her heart to keep up, not giving herself time to freak out. The hinges of the basement door were on her side of the door, as it opened inwards. Quickly and quietly, she oiled the hinges, hoping that, if they did notice that the door was suddenly being quiet, they'd chalk it up to the changing weather or something. Maybe they wouldn't notice at all, but Luka could only pray.

The door opened, totally mute. Luka didn't bother with the first floor and sped up the stairs with the lightest steps to go the mystery office.

It had changed a bit; books had moved around, and a laptop was suddenly on its surface. Luka turned on her flashlight after making sure it was set on the lowest possible luminosity.

For all intents and purposes, it was just an office. Of course, there was the paint and the strange impression the room gave her, which was why she was there. What was the impression, exactly? She stood there for a long while, trying to taste exactly what the room was giving her. She felt...very focused on the desk? No...it was more of a suffocation, she realized. The desk was very big in the room, she felt, and the walls were too close to the working surface.

Luka studied the desk. Was it simply a very large desk? If that was the case, then she'd feel silly. Suddenly, a thought struck her; she'd seen this desk elsewhere! She backed away from it, trying to remember where she'd seen it. Then she dashed up the stairs, touching nothing, making no sound, and looked at the father's desk.

It was identical. The desks were nothing special; something from a large-brand store that was designed for easy building. But they had two identical desks.

Luka noted that in the office, the room's walls were much less invasive. She took out her tape measure, measured the width of the room, then crept back downstairs. The room was much more narrow than the rest of the building! The home was pretty geometric; a huge, somewhat narrow, block. But for some reason, the walls of that office didn't span the entire width of the building.

Luka observed the other walls on that floor and noted that the second-floor living room, on the southern end, was as wide as it was supposed to be. Then there were the stairs and their stupid little gates to prevent anyone from falling down them. But after the stairs, the wall was once again 'too soon'.

The intruder briefly wanted to laugh at such poor designing. Who would have built anything in this way? But that brief desire was taken over by a different realization; maybe that wall was hollow.

She wanted to knock on the wall to test the theory. But she couldn't, she told herself. The noise would resonate through the home if it really was hollow. She'd have to find other evidence of it, she thought. But curiosity got the best of her, so she pressed her ear against the wall and very, very delicately rapped her knuckle against it.

Results were inconclusive. Disappointing.

She looked at everything the wall had to offer; all of its corners and seams and everything that was put in front of it to see if it was there to hide something.

It looked like a stupid, normal wall.

Luka refused to give up; if it truly was hollow, then her entire task would be so much easier than she could have ever dreamed! It was a possibility she had to entertain until she would be absolutely certain that it was dead.

She went down the stairs, hoping to find more clues on the ceiling under the wall. If she found nothing there, she would be forced to sneak into the father's bedroom to inspect the floor there, which she absolutely wanted to avoid.

To her surprise, she noted that even on that floor, the room was narrow. After a quick check with the kitchen, she concluded that indeed, the rooms to the north of the stairs were all narrower than they were supposed to be. What a lucky discovery, she told herself. If all northern rooms had a hollow side, then she could potentially creep behind the walls on four floors! But how could she get behind the walls?

Luka then remembered the cabinet under the stairs. It was very difficult to find the last time she was there, but with her flashlight, she could more clearly see the wood stand out from the texture of the wall.

She felt around the edge of the little door, hoping to find purchase somewhere. No luck. Luka cursed herself when she realized that despite her planning, she'd forgotten her trusted knife. Quietly, she crept to the kitchen to find one, doing her very best at making absolutely no noise. Unfortunately, the drawer had a quick or auto-shut system, so the moment it was almost closed, some mechanism brought it back to a fully closed position with a jolt, making all of the silverware rattle.

She almost stabbed herself in the sudden panic. Luka didn't take a single chance and ducked under the couch only two seconds later, her heart pounding out of her chest.

Her nightmares came to life when a light turned on; she could see the shine on the floor in front of the stairs. Luka wanted to cry; the adrenaline was making her shake. She silenced herself in every which way that she could; no breathing, no shaking, no dropping anything, no sticking out from under the couch, no thoughts about being shot or things she'd forgotten to put away or being assaulted or being in the newspapers or her cellmates…

Someone came down the stairs very gently, and Luka bit her tongue to stop herself from whimpering. The couch was good, she told herself. The couch was a good hiding spot. Quietly she pressed herself against the wall, away from the stairs, hoping her beating heart wouldn't betray her.

From where she was, she could only see two relatively small, bare feet pause at the base of the staircase. Luka immediately deduced that it was the daughter. The girl had quietly come down the stairs, almost soundless. Luka wondered if she truly was there because she'd made a noise, for the girl didn't seem to be looking for anything.

The pair of feet disappeared before the girl turned on the kitchen lights, and sometimes Luka could see her unknowing host's shadow stretch out on the floor. There was a small clatter of pans, a fridge opening and closing, pouring, and the fridge again. Then silence.

Luka waited, adjusting to the situation. She was quickly convinced that the girl wasn't there because of the noise. Soon, she heard something cooking, a soft boiling of sorts. The girl stirred whatever was simmering. If she wasn't there because of noise but because of a midnight snack, then Luka wondered if she would have gotten caught without her self-scare. The girl was so quiet; she wondered if she would have heard her coming at all. She considered thanking her luck before she saw the kitchen light turn off. She heard a chair being pulled out and assumed Miku had taken a seat at the dining table. Unfortunately, the protrusion the bathroom created meant that couldn't see her, so she could only guess what was happening.

She heard sipping; Miku had made something hot to drink. Tea, or warm milk, perhaps? That would have justified the stirring and why she had needed to open up the fridge.

Luka then wondered if this was something that occurred regularly. She also wondered if that was why they had no motion detectors; Miku was usually up at night. It was, at that point, merely a guess, but the possibility of Miku having light sleep was a great risk for the intruder. That or being awake often was something Luka would carefully have to dance around and avoid at all costs. But the girl was so incredibly quiet…! How could she possibly see her coming if she was to avoid her?

She did turn on the lights, Luka noted. If she remained alert, then she would be able to notice her arrival before she saw her in person. But would it be enough? Would she have enough time to hide quietly?

Luka gulped nervously; this new element in the game was one she couldn't joke around with in the slightest. And somehow, it made her feel somewhat sad for the girl; she'd experienced light insomnia before, during the tedious moments in school. She knew that being unable to sleep or being unable to keep sleep could become, at moments, utterly maddening.

At least the tealette seemed to have her method of coping, thanks to her warm milk. Luka had been stubborn and had kept tossing and turning until she was too mad to be tired, or too tired to be mad.

Luka then wondered why she hadn't ever taken note of Miku's insomnia before. After all, she had been visiting regularly, in order to take pictures and get a good idea of the place. Of course, back then she never stayed beyond midnight, which might justify why she hadn't ever seen the daughter turn on the lights. Then again, maybe this was a singular occurrence. The possibility that this behavior wasn't a habit was a comforting one. But the girl's gestures, the way she had crept so quietly down the stairs, the way she'd prepared her drink so swiftly and chosen a seat so directly only suggested that this was something she did regularly. Maybe she usually woke up later in the night...?

As Luka pondered the details of the late-night drink, Miku had finished her beverage. The intruder had heard the sips stop, yet the girl remained seated at the table. Luka heard no noise of a chair being pulled out. She heard no noise of any mugs being put away, nothing. She waited for a few long minutes, and got nervous to the point of looking around in the partially lit room to see if the girl had somehow managed to sneak out and up on her. But Miku was still seated at the table, and she sat there in total silence. Luka almost wished that there was a clock somewhere that made noise. Only the humming of the refrigerator provided some audible input. Otherwise, it was eerily silent. That, coupled with nothing happening, gave Luka the impression that the entire world had paused.

She exhaled shakily, forgetting for a second that remaining undetected was the first of all of her priorities. She remained unheard, she remained hidden, and Miku remained still.

The moving hands on Luka's watch were the only indication of time passing. The girl had been downstairs for almost forty minutes when she decided to go back up. In an almost groggy fashion, she put the mug in the sink before rinsing it thoroughly. The light switched off, and only the light from the upper floor remained, reaching down from the narrow stairs. Luka briefly saw Miku's feet again when the girl left the kitchen and dining area, walking around the bathroom and then up the stairs. Despite being barefoot, without making any real effort to be quiet, she was soundless.

Mere seconds later, the light upstairs turned off. Luka waited another minute, even believing that she heard the girl when she ascended the last set of stairs. Then she waited and waited some more.

She didn't like the fact that Miku was awake. She didn't like the assumption that she had trouble going to sleep or staying asleep. She remembered how close she'd been to the girl just a few days prior and shivered at how bad it all could have gone.

It had been an hour since Miku had gone down the stairs and a little less than twenty minutes since she'd gone back up. Still, Luka didn't feel safe enough to crawl back out from under the couch. She listened to herself exhale, each breath shaky, the dust sticking to her cheek. Her neck hurt from looking forwards while lying down on her stomach. Her heart felt so tired. She was so tired.

She remembered her mission. She remembered the room, and the hollow, and the cabinet under the stairs. She breathed deeply, then slowly, slowly crawled from under her hiding spot.

Everything was dark. Quickly, Luka went to the kitchen to see if she had left a clue of her presence. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and the only thing that had changed was the pan Miku had used to boil the milk, which sat in the sink. There were still a few drops of milk in the pan, which made it doubtlessly clear to Luka that the girl was trying to fall asleep.

Still shaking a little, Luka returned to the task at hand, hesitating only a little bit. Should she wait more? Should she return the next day? In the end, she decided to try and see how far she could get without testing the girl's slumber too much.

With the knife she'd gotten from the kitchen, she managed to pry open the door. As she worked, Luka realized what a terrible impression she would have made if Miku had found her, knife in hand. Of course, intrusion wasn't bad enough, she would have looked like a potential murderer as well, and murder was the very, very last thing on her life's agenda.

The cabinet was empty, much to Luka's understanding. Not only was it difficult to open, but the inside was raw, splintered wood. Never had it been prepared to actually house or store anything. Luka wondered if it was so difficult to open because it was supposed to be closed for good. At least its hinges were quiet.

She stuck her head in and shone her flashlight around. She could clearly see the steps from under, and the whole wooden setup to make them stable. The wood that held the stairs up was new, which probably explained why it was so soundless. But the walls and the seemingly random beams were raw and ragged.

The space wasn't small, though. It followed the stairs up to the elbow, stopped by a splintered wooden wall. Right there, under the elbow, Luka felt she could almost sit comfortably. The opening of the cabinet was, however, barely wider than her shoulders and right against the floor.

Luka decided to crawl in anyways, eager to find whatever she could. She managed to do so with only some difficulty, the main challenge being the necessity to be absolutely quiet. If that wasn't her priority, she would have managed to crawl into the space in a matter of seconds. But with no frantic wiggling allowed, no pained grunts and only carefully calculated movements, it took half a minute. Once inside, she realized how stuffy the air was. It smelled like wood and dust, the air was dry. There was a hook of sorts on the inside of the cabinet door, which she used to shut the door behind her. The moment she did so, the darkness was absolute.

There she was, under the stairs, blind, on her knees and hands. Luka didn't feel particularly vulnerable; nobody would ever find her there, and that thought alone comforted her more than anything. Unfortunately, the ground was littered with splinters and dust and dozens of fragments of things Luka didn't want to imagine. She felt it all get stuck in the fabric of her gloves and her pants at her knees. She hoped that there wasn't any glass, or fiberglass, or anything that cut too deeply. Or anything dead.

She turned her flashlight on, taking a few minutes to simply look around. The newer beams were really new; they still seemed to have that freshly polished gleam. The older beams were jagged as could be, and she even spotted a few old nails sticking out of the edges. Luka gulped, seeing the nails as an invitation to death by carelessness. If she were to stab herself in that space and die, nobody would ever find her body, and the family would forever wonder what stank so much. And if they did find her one day, they would be scared to death seeing the remains of an adult in their under-stair crawlspace. Luka shivered, more determined than ever to simply stay alive.

Carefully, she crawled 'til she was under the elbow of the stairs and sat up. She wrote down that she would have to bring tools to remove or at least neutralize the nails, because she could definitely see herself returning to this hiding spot many, many times.

Ah, but she had gone out to seek the answer to the potentially hollow walls. She directed her flashlight in the direction of the wall, namely right in front of her, when she had her back pressed against the wall under the elbow of the stairs, facing North. She could see the outline of the steps, as before, turning and going higher before disappearing behind the wall. She wondered why she hadn't noticed the structural anomaly sooner; from the outside, the western wall was totally flat, with the exception of the chimney which started on the second floor. From the outside, the stairs went up and beyond the wall of the room, sinking more westward than the room did. Of course, there had to be a hollow.

Unfortunately, she only saw more wooden walls, threatening her with their splinters and nails. She approached where the hollow had to be and tested the wall. It held firmly. She directed the light upwards, towards the floor above. Ah! There, she saw only a few boards haphazardly nailed across a gap in the structure. She stood as much as she could, which was more like a strange kneeling, and shone the light through the gaps. She could see a large dark space, almost entirely empty, stretch up two floors. It was barely wide enough for Luka to be able to stand in there comfortably.

With calculated movements, Luka tested the wall separating her from the space again. It held. She pushed again, harder, then harder still. It complained, and something broke with a muffled groan. Oh, how lucky she was, that the wood was so old! Carefully, she pried the wood away from the beams that held it, pushing against the surface where the nails were as she saw them emerge.

It was a work of patience. After the initial jolt, the top of the surface had sprung away from its frame by a fair centimeter. Then she pushed against the bottom, but it did not jump again. Slowly she eased the nails out of the frame, pushing the slab of wood until it stuck away from the beams evenly. Then she went around it in a circular fashion, keeping it all even, going as slowly as she could bear.

When the first nail sprang free, she continued more carefully than ever. Then another nail left the frame with a jolt and a groan, and another. Luka could then hold onto the board, and pushed until it fell.

She was so proud of her work; she'd manage to push away what separated her from her goal in almost complete silence. It had taken her far too long though; almost half an hour, and she was sweating from the effort. The dust clung to her skin. But she smiled.

Quietly, she managed to maneuver the board through the opening she'd created to rest it against the wall in the elbow of the stairs, nails facing away from her. Then, with a hop in her step, she crawled back through the opening and stood in the hollow of the walls.

She felt like cheering. In one night, her entire mission had gotten infinitely easier. She hardly cared to question why the walls had been placed the way they were. After all, who did care? The family didn't notice, and it only worked to her advantage! Maybe it was an aesthetics issue, maybe it was a footprint issue, maybe the designers were insane, maybe there was a terrible stain on the old wall and they could only build a new one in front of it!

Luka killed a laugh before it escaped her. The outside wall was smooth, much like the walls inside the home. It hadn't been painted, but she couldn't care less. The other side, the side behind the walls the family saw on a daily basis, was simply a ton of little planks of sorts placed horizontally with gaps between them. It was like a very, very wide ladder with only two-centimeter space between the rungs. Stuck to the other side of the planks she could see the plaster or cement or whatever made the wall.

Oh, she was literally behind the scenes, she realized. Nobody would ever, ever find her there. From there she could operate as she desired, night...or day. Yes, she could haunt them all day as well, if she so desired.

It would require massive cleanup if she wanted to spend an extended amount of time there in comfort, she thought at first. But Luka didn't have the time or patience to vacuum clean or dust or polish any of the space right then. She decided that the mission was more important than her own comfort, and she would use the space as frequently as possible, dust or no dust.

She checked the time and decided she would better start heading home. Still giddy, she ducked under her makeshift door, crawled under the stairs and emerged with some difficulty out of the cabinet.

Dust was everywhere, she realized with a grimace. Calmly, she searched for a broom (she put back the knife while she looked), found one, then pushed all of the dust in the corner behind the couch. Nobody would find it there, and if someone did, they would assume that it had simply been waiting, gathering there for a long time. In any case, it was more discreet than a sudden pile of dust in the garbage.

She double checked to make sure that she hadn't forgotten any details. The cabinet was shut, her borrowed tools put away, and nothing betrayed the fact that she'd been there. Then, silent as a mouse, she went down to the basement, checked the lock. The glue had dried and the rusted mechanism wouldn't budge. With her flashlight, she inspected it further. Her tinkering was invisible, which made her feel very proud for a second. It looked like a regular old lock. She hoped that it wouldn't inspire the family to change it. In any case, it looked shut and permanently so.

Feeling very productive, she left the home. As usual, she made sure that not a trace, not a footprint, not a trail of dirt was left behind. She was never there.

Her walk home allowed her to reflect on what she'd discovered. The hollow was definitely a wonderful find. She wondered if she would have ever found it if that desk hadn't seemed so abnormally large in the room. If the family knew about its existence was another question, and she realized that it was a very good possibility. While their move to that house was supposed to be temporary and secret, they had made sure to secure all exits they knew of, and had probably inspected the old blueprints. Or, maybe they had the modification done themselves. No, she changed her mind; they wouldn't have wasted their time, the money or the attention on that. They wanted to be invisible, so hiring a bunch of people to renovate a home from the inside out would have been very counterproductive. But they could know about it. They might have forgotten about it. If Luka planned on using that space to her advantage, she would have to stay careful.

Miku's visit to the kitchen was a detail that Luka had almost forgotten in her excitement. And the detail was one of significant importance; if she truly was having trouble with her sleep, Luka would use the crawlspace pretty often, even at night.

Luka sighed, imagining the girl seated at the dining table alone in the middle of the night. She hadn't seen her sit down, but she could imagine her slumped over the table, or resting her weight on her elbows. She had been so quiet for so long, Luka imagined her staring at the wall in front of her, absentmindedly holding the mug, letting a skin form on the surface of the milk. Maybe she didn't use the ear of the mug and simply wrapped her hands around it, letting the heat burn her so that she could feel something. Maybe she was imagining conversations, or her father or her mother sitting across from her. Maybe she was conjuring up imaginary friends, could-be schoolmates, the boyfriends she might have had. Maybe she was thinking of a passage of a book she'd read, thinking of those fields of war or prairies of peace and calm she would never be allowed to visit, thinking of those comrades adventuring through the wild lands, the strange encounters, the epic battles. Things happening, finally happening.

And then she had put her mug away, she went up the stairs, and returned to her cage at the top of the magical tower, and continued waiting.

Luka sighed again, oblivious to the surprisingly cold wind. It was all so sad, she thought. She hoped that she wouldn't have to witness more of Miku's restlessness, for she feared it might shatter her. Right then, walking through the night, through the city, knowing all she needed to know in order to live and survive, employed and free, she felt so limitless, so liberated. It was a feeling that had started to escape her, she realized, and savored it. So free, so free. And Miku...so caged.

Luka returned home, closing and locking the door behind her before she drew the curtains shut. Only a single light shone in her room. She felt exhausted, all of a sudden. Right then, she needed sleep. Everything else, thinking included, could wait.