Spectres behind silk curtains: 9 of Asia’s most famous haunted mansions

One of the most famous haunted mansions in Asia, Laperal White House is a vacation home in Baguio. Roberto Laperal and his wife Victorina built it in the 1930s, constructing it in the Victorian style with native woods, such as narra and yakal. Its steep-pitched roof, wooden gables and planks, expansive verandas, fireplaces, winding narrow staircases, terraces and solid wood craftsmanship make it a standout example of American colonial and Victorian hybrid architecture in a tropical mountain climate. 

During the Second World War, the house was reportedly taken over by Japanese forces, possibly used as a garrison, interrogation site or stationing ground, with local stories of violence. Though parts of the legend are unverified, many believe that the building’s wartime past is part of what lends its aura of sadness. Post-war, it survived the devastating 1990 Luzon earthquake, which leveled many old buildings in the city. In more recent decades, it was a museum for bamboo and wood art, then restored and converted into “Joseph’s,” an upscale restaurant, under the ownership of tycoon Lucio Tan.

Its current reputation combines the architecture’s beauty (wooden floors, ceiling panelling, original features preserved) with stories of ghostly footsteps, white figures in windows, and eerie sounds. For many visitors, the Laperal White House is not just haunted house material but a living heritage building: restoration balanced with rumours, preservation worked alongside myth.

Ban Phitsanulok, also known as Phitsanulok Mansion/Banthomsinth House, was completed in 1922, commissioned by King Rama VI and designed by Italian architect Mario Tamagno. Its style is Venetian-Gothic or Baroque with Italianate windows, ornate facades, high ceilings, porticoes and gardens, all on a large estate in the Dusit district.

Originally built for Major General Phraya Aniruttheva, the king’s aide de camp, the mansion was intended as a lavish private residence but quickly ran into maintenance costs. Over time, it was transferred to state ownership, used as a state guesthouse, and later designated the official residence of the Prime Minister of Thailand. 

Politically, it is notorious: only a few prime ministers have ever dared live there. In most terms, the PM works elsewhere, and the mansion remains largely unused as a residence. Local newspapers report that some officials refuse to stay there “because of strange occurrences.”

Stories include sightings of a ghostly maiden in traditional clothing, spectral sounds such as those of horses galloping in the garden, emanating from a bronze horse statue, voices in empty halls and general sense of unease, especially at night. These reports are rarely documented in official records but have permeated Thai media, becoming part of its identity as a one of the must-visit haunted mansions in Asia. The architecture—long corridors, wooden floors, tall windows—amplifies creaks, echoes and shadows just as much as it does rumours.

Chaonei No 81 is a striking French Baroque revival mansion in Beijing’s Dongcheng District, built around 1910. It’s a three-storey brick and stone structure, complete with mansard roof dormers, ornate stone-trim windows, carved foliate ornamentation and a smaller outbuilding, all surrounded by a concrete wall and a muted courtyard with mature trees. 

Ownership is murky before the 1940s. After 1949, it became property of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Beijing; earlier, it may have served various private residential or missionary functions. Contrary to local lore, there’s no archival proof that it belonged to a Kuomintang officer who murdered or abandoned a mistress there.

The abandonment, the decay, the isolation, plus rumours of suicides and disappearances, have fed its haunted reputation. Locals say windows stare into silence, doors echo when no one is there, and that evening shadows move like bodies. Although it’s designated a historic building, it remains closed to the public for the most part, and its legends are more vivid than its documented history.

Charleville Mansion is a colonial-era hill-station villa built in 1913, perched among pine and oak forests above Shimla ridge, intended as a summer retreat by the British administrative elite. Its two-storey structure features boarding verandahs, gabled rooflines, wooden ornamental trimmings, shuttered windows, a wide portico and stone-masonry walls typical of British Victorian cottages adapted to Himalayan terrain. 

Its first notable occupant was Victor Bayley, a British railway official who rented the house in October 1913 with his wife. They fled the mansion after only a few months, apparently driven out by reports of a poltergeist. The previous tenant—a British army officer—had sealed one upstairs room believed haunted; when reopened, it was found in violent disarray: furniture overturned, walls damaged. Locals say strange noises, shadows, and even spectral figures have been seen ever since.

Ownership passed into private Indian hands after 1947, and over the decades the mansion has been largely vacant, falling into disrepair until recent reports of refurbishment.

Dragon Lodge, on 32 Lugard Road, in the scenic Victoria Peak district, is more ambiguous in its history. That mystery, however, is part of its power. The mansion is pre-World War II or at least built by or before 1945; its exact construction date is murky, possibly due to missing records or reconstruction, but it was known to be standing before the Japanese occupation. 

Originally, it was a luxury residence: a four-storey mansion with a garden, large rooms, panoramic views of Victoria Harbour. Over the decades, it slid through neglect. The war is said to have darkened its corridors. Some say it was used by Japanese soldiers, possibly occupied, possibly worse. Rumours include executed nuns, spectral cries and apparitions of children. Whether any of those stories are provable is another matter; what is certain is that people working on renovation or nearby often report strange sounds: echoes, doors slamming and voices when no one is supposed to be there. 

Dragon Lodge’s architectural features contribute: tall ceilings, large verandas, an overgrown garden, grand windows facing outward to Hong Kong’s lights but inward to its silence. When caretakers leave, when furniture is removed, when shutters are closed, the emptiness amplifies every sound, every shadow. Locals say that even trying to renovate is challenging because the fear of ghosts keeps workers from finishing tasks.

Highland Towers was a luxury high-rise condominium complex, completed in phases between 1974 and 1982, consisting of three identical 12-storey blocks built at the western base of a steep hill in Ulu Klang. The complex had reinforced concrete foundations, multiple staircases and lifts, communal facilities like a pool and housed upper-middle-class and expatriate families.

On December 11, 1993, after heavy rains destabilised the slope and overwhelmed drainage systems, Block 1 collapsed in a catastrophic landslide, killing 48 residents. Blocks 2 and 3 were evacuated, stripped and left abandoned. Since then, the ruined towers have stood as hulking concrete shells: rooftops exposed, interior walls vandalised, overgrown with vegetation.

Locals report the area has become a magnet for whispers of apparitions, unexplained voices and the uneasy feeling that the concrete bones of the towers still mourn. In recent years, government plans have emerged to demolish the remaining towers and redevelop the land as a park or residences, while officials insist the name Highland Towers will remain part of local memory.

See more: Haunted Malaysia: 11 spookiest spots in Malaysia

The Qiu Mansion, sometimes referred to in legends as Cha Gong Guan, was built by the Qiu brothers in Shanghai’s French Concession area in the early 20th century. The brothers reportedly made their wealth by discovering a warehouse of abandoned paint cans after World War I and deploying that windfall into constructing lavish mansions.

Architecturally, the house had extensive gardens, exotic animals (peacocks, tigers, crocodiles), large decorative features and a somewhat flamboyant design reflecting wealth and status. As Shanghai modernised, the mansion fell into disuse, the gardens overrun, animals gone and buildings neglected.

Attempts to demolish or redevelop have reportedly stalled due to inexplicable phenomena among workers: there have been stories of phantom beasts, strange bite marks appearing on workers even when no animals are present and spectral animal sounds. Supposedly, animal spirits of those once kept in captivity guard the property.

The Liu Family Mansion, in Minxiong Township, Chiayi County, Taiwan, was constructed in 1929 in the Baroque western revival style by wealthy local merchant Liu Rong-yu. The mansion was massive: three stories, red brick, ornate balconies, large rooms, outbuildings, courtyards, as well as auxiliary structures like stables. Over time, the mansion was abandoned as family members moved to cities for education and business, leaving the structure unused for many decades. It sustained damage from the elements, neglect, high humidity, leading to a partial collapse of the roofs and floors.

The most persistent local legends of ghosts involve a maid who had an affair with Liu. Shamed by the discovery of the liaison—and perhaps abused by Liu’s wife—the servant threw herself down a well. After this, other stories state her ghost wanders near the well and halls; people have also reported cries, sudden cold spots, apparitions in white or seeing figures at twilight. The ruin has become a tourist spot especially during Ghost Month, a place for photographers, urban explorers and mischievous daredevils.

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