"Finally, finally, finally," he muttered repeatedly, sounding almost mad.
Meanwhile, Luck stepped back, putting some space between them.
'What the hell's wrong with this old man?'
He slipped his hands into his pockets, gripping his folding knife just in case.
"The key! Do you have it with you?" The old man wiped his tears and asked urgently.
"How do you know about that?"
"I work for your grandfather. Hurry up and bring the key! It's important if you want to claim his inheritance. You don't have time to waste, or else.."
"Wait, don't tell me this is part of a test. What the hell? Is my grandfather a psycho? Why go through all this nonsense?" Luck grumbled in frustration.
"That's right, your grandfather is a psycho, an egotistical moron who only thinks about himself. So please, just bring the key so we can put an end to all of this."
Annoyed, Luck pulled the key from his pocket and raised it.
The old man's smile widened, and he quickly knelt down to retrieve something from the desk.
When he stood up, he was holding a jet-black lockbox, its keyhole glimmering like it was made of gold.
"Just put the key here, and you can claim the inheritance," the old man urged, his hands trembling with excitement.
"What if this is some kind of trick?" Luck asked suspiciously.
"No trick, I swear!" the old man replied, his eyes wide with urgency. "Your grandfather wanted you to have this."
"Fine." With a deep breath, he stepped forward, holding the key over the lockbox.
He could feel his heart pounding as he positioned it above the keyhole.
"Just turn it," the old man encouraged.
The lockbox creaked open. His hands trembled as he lifted the lid, heartbeat hammering against his ribs.
Meanwhile, the old man stood across from him, eyes filled with excitement.
It was as though all his years had led to this. The lock box inched open, his breath growing faster with each second.
Finally, it opened completely.
Inside, there was nothing but a single, yellowed piece of paper. Its edges were brittle and curled, like it had been forgotten for centuries.
Luck squinted at the paper, his brow knitting in confusion. The symbols weren't in any language he recognized.
Twisting shapes, jagged lines, spirals weaving into runes that made his head throb just from looking.
"An old paper?" Luck blurted out, "Is this a prank?"
The old man, standing still with a creepy grin, suddenly moved.
Without a word, he placed the lock box on the counter, the paper lying between them, then walked out.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Luck shouted.
The old man cut him off by turning and giving him the middle finger.
"Hahaha! Finally free!" he burst out, "After all those years trapped... this place is yours!"
"You're gonna enjoy this godforsaken motel!" He leaned in, eyes wild with madness. "'Cause I'm damn sure you're just as crazy as your grandfather!"
Luck took a step back, unsettled by the strong emotion in his words.
Whatever this old man felt about his mysterious grandfather, it definitely wasn't good
Without waiting for a response, the old man pulled the door open and rushed out.
He stepped on the dirt road, pausing for a heartbeat to savor his newfound freedom.
Then, without warning, tiny cracks began to spiderweb across his skin.
Bit by bit, his body dissolved into a blinding cloud of dust that gently swallowed him .
"No! We had a deal!" he shouted, desperation rising as he grabbed at the disintegrating parts of himself.
But the more he tried, the faster he fell apart—like trying to grasp smoke with bare hands.
"You told me to wait for your successor! He's here now! So why the hell are you doing this, you bastard?!" the old man screamed, his voice filled with resentment.
"You lied—even after death! You promised you'd set me free! I've served you for centuries!"
Realizing it, he turned to face Luck, who stared back with eyes filled with fear and confusion.
"You... you..." He staggers over his own words. "I curse your grandfather... and you, his successor. I pray you get punished for every sin he ever committed! You're all evil! Do you hear me? Evil!"
Luck stood there, speechless. He didn't even know what was happening.
The old man dissolved—no scream, no sound. Just ash drifting where he once stood.
'This is fucked up,' he muttered, barely able to breathe. He couldn't wrap his head around what he just saw.