畫室中的詭異畫像仍然縈繞心頭，然而夜幕降臨後，厄舍府再次傳來無法解釋的聲音。這一次，不再是牆內的敲擊，而是一段悲傷而詭異的鋼琴旋律。循著琴聲而去，敘事者即將踏入厄舍家族最黑暗的秘密。
The unsettling portraits remain vivid in the narrator’s thoughts, but as darkness falls over Usher House, another mystery awakens. This time it is not the knocking within the walls, but a sorrowful piano melody drifting through the silent corridors. Following the haunting music leads him toward one of the mansion’s oldest and most terrifying secrets.
中文
夜晚再次籠罩厄舍府。窗外的黑色湖泊沉靜得像一面沒有生命的鏡子，濃密烏雲遮蔽了月光，整座宅邸陷入死一般的寂靜。我坐在客房閱讀一本從書房借來的古老家族誌，希望能找到更多關於厄舍家族的記載。然而翻閱許久，書中除了歷代族長的名字與簡短生平之外，再沒有任何關於家族秘密的內容。彷彿真正重要的歷史，早已被刻意抹去。午夜將近時，一陣悠揚的琴聲忽然自遠方傳來。我放下手中的書，靜靜傾聽。那旋律低沉而悲傷，每一個音符都像帶著濃烈的哀愁，在寂靜的長廊中緩緩流動。它不像普通樂曲，更像一段漫長的告別。我走出房門。整條長廊空無一人，只有昏暗油燈在牆上投下搖曳的影子。琴聲依舊持續，似乎從宅邸西翼傳來。我循著聲音慢慢前進。越往深處走，四周空氣便越發寒冷。牆壁上的裂痕似乎比白天更加明顯，有些地方甚至滲出潮濕水痕，如同石牆正在流淚。終於，我來到一間從未見過的大廳。厚重木門半掩著，琴聲正從裡面傳出。我輕輕推開木門。一座華麗卻殘舊的音樂廳映入眼簾。高大的天花板佈滿裂痕，水晶吊燈蒙上厚厚灰塵。舞台中央放著一架黑色鋼琴，而羅德里克正坐在琴前。他修長而蒼白的手指輕輕滑過琴鍵，神情卻異常專注，彷彿整個世界只剩下音樂。我沒有打擾，只靜靜站在門口聆聽。旋律時而溫柔，時而激昂，又忽然墜入令人窒息的低音。整首曲子充滿難以言喻的絕望。最後一個音符落下後，羅德里克依然低著頭，久久沒有說話。「這首曲子很好聽。」我輕聲說。他慢慢抬起頭，露出疲憊笑容。「它沒有名字。」他回答。「因為它從未真正完成。」他告訴我，這首樂曲是歷代厄舍家族代代修改而成，每一位繼承人都會加入新的旋律，卻沒有任何人能夠完成最後一段。「因為每當完成的人出現，他也會很快死去。」他平靜地說。我沉默片刻，不知該如何回應。就在這時，一陣冰冷氣流忽然吹過音樂廳。鋼琴上的燭火劇烈搖晃，房間瞬間暗了下來。琴鍵竟自己發出一個低沉音符。咚……羅德里克猛然站起身，神情變得極度緊張。他望向舞台後方那扇緊閉的大門，雙眼充滿恐懼。「她來了。」他低聲說。我順著他的目光望去。舞台盡頭的大門不知何時微微打開一道縫隙。黑暗之中，一道白色身影緩緩站立。那身影沒有發出任何聲音，只是靜靜望著我們。我立刻認出，那正是畫中的女子，也是湖面上的神秘白影。下一瞬間，燭火突然全部熄滅。整個音樂廳陷入伸手不見五指的黑暗。唯一能聽見的，只剩下鋼琴再次自動響起。這一次，並不是羅德里克在演奏。琴聲混亂而急促，像有一雙看不見的手瘋狂敲擊琴鍵。我摸索著想點亮燭火，卻忽然感覺有人從身旁緩緩走過。一陣冰冷香氣掠過肩膀，耳邊傳來女子極輕的低語。「別相信畫……」聲音消失後，一切再次歸於寂靜。我終於點燃火柴，重新照亮音樂廳。舞台空無一人。鋼琴前也沒有任何身影。然而琴蓋上卻多出一本從未見過的古老樂譜。封面早已泛黃，上面只寫著一句話：「獻給最後一位厄舍。」羅德里克看見樂譜後，臉色瞬間失去血色。他顫抖著雙手，卻始終不敢將它打開。「它回來了……」他喃喃自語。我望向那本神秘樂譜，忽然發現封面的灰塵間，多出一枚鮮紅色的手印，像是不久前才剛剛留下。
[audiobook title=”Episode 5: The Midnight Melody” src=”https://pub-0d950852c1b24118b76198710040037c.r2.dev/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/The-Fall-of-the-House-of-Usher-Episode-5.mp3″]
English Version
Darkness settled over Usher House once again. Beyond my window, the black lake reflected nothing beneath the cloud-covered sky, leaving the estate wrapped in unnatural silence. Hoping to distract myself from the unsettling events of the previous day, I spent the evening reading an old family chronicle borrowed from the library. The volume contained names, dates, and brief accounts of each generation, yet every page felt strangely incomplete. It was as though the most important chapters of the Usher family’s history had been deliberately erased. Near midnight, a distant melody drifted through the corridors. Soft piano notes echoed across the mansion, carrying a sorrow unlike any music I had ever heard. The composition sounded less like a performance than a farewell whispered through time. Unable to ignore it, I stepped into the hallway. The mansion remained deserted. Only flickering lamps illuminated the endless passageways as the haunting melody guided me deeper into the western wing. The air grew colder with every step. Moisture clung to the cracked stone walls, giving them the appearance of quietly weeping. Eventually I reached an unfamiliar chamber. Through the half-open doorway I discovered a magnificent music hall forgotten by time. Dust covered the grand chandelier overhead, while a black piano stood alone upon the stage. Seated before it was Roderick Usher. His pale hands moved gently across the keys, completely absorbed in the unfinished melody. I remained silent until the final note faded into the darkness. When he noticed me, he smiled faintly. He explained that the composition had never been given a title because it had never been completed. For generations, each Usher heir had added another passage to the music. Yet no composer had ever finished the final movement. According to family tradition, whoever attempted to complete it died soon afterward. Before I could respond, a freezing draft swept across the hall. The candle flames trembled violently. Then one piano key pressed itself down without human touch, producing a single deep note that echoed through the room. Roderick immediately rose to his feet, his face drained of color. He stared toward a large door behind the stage. Barely visible in the darkness, the door had opened slightly. Within the narrow gap stood a silent woman dressed entirely in white. She did not move or speak. She simply watched us. I recognized her instantly. She was the mysterious figure from the lake and the hidden portrait in the gallery. Without warning, every candle in the room was extinguished. Total darkness swallowed the hall. Then the piano began playing again. This time the music was violent and chaotic, as though invisible hands were striking the keys with desperate urgency. Reaching for a match, I suddenly sensed someone passing beside me. A faint fragrance lingered in the cold air. Near my ear, a woman’s whisper emerged from the darkness. “Do not trust the paintings.” The voice disappeared as quickly as it had come. When I finally lit another candle, the hall was empty. No one remained near the stage. Yet something new rested upon the piano. An ancient book of sheet music lay across the closed lid. Its faded cover bore only a single inscription. Dedicated to the Last Usher. Roderick stared at the manuscript in silent horror. His trembling hands refused to touch it. He whispered only that it had returned. As I looked closer, I noticed something even more disturbing. Pressed against the dusty cover was a fresh crimson handprint, as though someone had placed it there only moments before.
