Verhaallijn

You return to your childhood home in Miskolc, Hungary after a letter from the bank gives you one week to clear out what’s left before the property is auctioned off. It should be simple, sort through the dust, gather what matters, and leave the rest behind. But the moment you cross the threshold, something is wrong. Familiar rooms feel distant, details are off in ways you cannot quite name. The house is quiet, yet every corner feels as if it is watching you. Your past is still here. And it has been waiting. What begins as a practical chore slowly becomes a descent through fractured memory and fading reality. The deeper you go, the less you can trust your own senses. Layouts feel misplaced. Shadows fall where they should not. Hallways lead back to places that should not exist. The world around you shifts, subtly at first, then relentlessly, never loud but impossible to ignore.