逃離封閉東翼後，敘事者開始相信厄舍府並非只有一座宅邸，而是兩個世界彼此重疊。就在調查東翼歷史時，一位從未出現在族譜中的女主人逐漸浮現，而她的存在，似乎正是整個家族悲劇的開端。
After escaping the sealed eastern wing, the narrator begins to suspect that Usher House exists in two overlapping realities. While searching through forgotten family records, he uncovers traces of a mysterious mistress whose name was erased from history. Her disappearance may hold the key to the curse that has consumed the Usher bloodline for generations.
中文
離開東翼後，我整整昏睡了一天。當再次睜開雙眼時，窗外依舊陰雲密布，彷彿時間從未向前流動。羅德里克守在床邊，神情疲憊而憂慮。他並沒有責怪我擅自闖入封閉的東翼，只是沉默許久後低聲說：「你已經看見了它。」我望向他的眼睛，卻不知道他口中的「它」究竟是什麼。是東翼？還是另一座厄舍府？羅德里克沒有解釋，只交給我一把古老黃銅鑰匙。他說，若真想知道一切，就前往地下文獻室，那裡保存著家族最古老的紀錄，只是多年來再沒有人敢閱讀。我帶著鑰匙來到宅邸地下。厚重石門緩緩開啟，一股陳舊紙張與潮濕泥土混合的氣味迎面而來。昏暗燭光照亮一排排書架，上面放滿發黃卷宗、羊皮紙與古老家族日誌。我翻閱數小時，卻始終沒有找到任何與東翼相關的記錄。直到書架最底層，一本沒有書名的黑色皮革筆記吸引了我的目光。翻開第一頁，上面寫著一句令人費解的話：「真正的女主人，從未離開厄舍府。」署名只有一個名字──伊莎貝拉。我繼續閱讀，才知道她並非僕人，也不是旁支親族，而是兩百多年前厄舍家族主人的妻子。奇怪的是，整本族譜竟然沒有她的名字，所有正式紀錄都刻意將她抹去。筆記提到，伊莎貝拉嫁入厄舍府後，宅邸開始發生各種怪事。畫像會自行改變，夜晚出現不存在的房間，湖面經常站著一位白衣女子，而孩子們則會在半夜聽見陌生女人唱著搖籃曲。起初，所有人都認為只是幻覺。然而數月後，家中僕人開始接連失蹤，有人聲稱曾看見伊莎貝拉深夜獨自走進東翼，卻再也沒有出來。官方記錄宣稱她因重病過世，但筆記的作者卻否定了這個說法。他寫道：「她不是死了，而是被留在另一座宅邸。」就在我閱讀最後一頁時，一張泛黃肖像從書中滑落。畫中的女子身穿深藍長裙，神情端莊優雅。那張臉，我竟然曾經見過。不是在畫室，也不是在湖邊，而是在東翼長廊盡頭，一幅沒有五官的肖像旁。當時我以為只是錯覺，如今才明白，那並不是幻覺。我急忙拿著畫像返回大廳，想詢問羅德里克。然而當他看見畫中女子時，整個人劇烈顫抖，畫像也從他手中掉落。「不可能……」他喃喃自語。「這幅畫早就燒毀了。」他告訴我，家族從小便禁止提起伊莎貝拉。據說她帶來了某種無法驅逐的東西，自她失蹤後，每一代厄舍家族都會夢見一名女子站在湖中央，靜靜等待最後一位繼承人。就在此時，整座宅邸忽然劇烈震動。牆壁裂痕迅速擴大，天花板落下大量灰塵。窗外黑色湖泊竟泛起巨大漣漪，彷彿湖底有某種龐然巨物正在甦醒。我與羅德里克衝到窗前，只見湖中央慢慢浮現一道白色身影。這一次，她不再只是靜靜站立。她緩緩抬起頭，朝宅邸露出一抹淒涼笑容。下一刻，一首熟悉的搖籃曲，伴隨著冰冷夜風，再次飄進厄舍府。而那旋律，正與午夜鋼琴演奏的樂曲一模一樣。
English Version
The day after escaping the eastern wing, I awoke feeling as though time itself had stood still. Heavy clouds still covered the sky, and the mansion remained wrapped in its endless silence. Roderick sat quietly beside my bed. He did not ask why I had entered the forbidden wing. Instead, he simply looked at me with exhausted eyes and whispered that I had finally seen it. When I questioned what he meant, he offered no explanation. Instead, he handed me an old brass key. He said the answers I sought were hidden beneath the mansion, inside a forgotten archive where generations of Usher records had been locked away. Guided by flickering candlelight, I descended into the underground library. Ancient shelves stretched into darkness, filled with decaying journals, rolled parchments, and family documents untouched for decades. I searched through countless volumes without finding any mention of the eastern wing until I discovered an unmarked black leather notebook hidden behind loose stones. Its opening sentence immediately caught my attention. The true mistress of Usher House never left. The diary belonged to a woman named Isabella. According to the journal, she had married into the Usher family more than two centuries earlier. Yet strangely, her name appeared nowhere within the official genealogy. Every formal record had erased her existence. As I continued reading, disturbing details emerged. Shortly after Isabella entered the mansion, portraits reportedly began changing overnight. Impossible rooms appeared behind familiar corridors. A woman dressed in white was repeatedly seen standing upon the black lake. Children claimed they heard lullabies echoing through empty hallways after midnight. At first the household dismissed these stories as superstition. But servants gradually disappeared one after another. Several witnesses reported seeing Isabella walk alone into the eastern wing late one evening. She was never seen again. Official documents stated she had died from illness. The diary insisted otherwise. It claimed she had not died but had been left inside another version of the house. As I reached the final page, an old portrait slipped from between the papers. The elegant woman it depicted looked strangely familiar. Then I remembered where I had seen her before. Not in the gallery. Not beside the lake. She had appeared among the faceless portraits inside the eastern wing. Realizing this, I rushed upstairs and showed the painting to Roderick. The moment he saw it, the color vanished from his face. He stared in horror before dropping the portrait onto the floor. He insisted that image had been burned decades ago. According to family tradition, Isabella’s name was forbidden. She had supposedly brought something into the mansion that could never be driven away. Since her disappearance, every generation of Ushers had dreamed of the same woman standing silently upon the lake, waiting for the final heir. Before he could say more, the entire mansion trembled violently. Cracks spread rapidly across the walls while dust rained from the ceiling. Outside, the black lake erupted into enormous ripples, as though something vast had awakened beneath its surface. We hurried to the window. There, rising from the center of the water, stood the white figure once again. This time she did not remain motionless. Slowly she lifted her face toward the mansion and smiled with heartbreaking sadness. Then a lullaby drifted through the cold night air. I recognized the melody instantly. It was the very same unfinished composition Roderick had played upon the piano.
