The mysterious young man began descending the stairs with slow, deliberate steps. Each footfall echoed hollowly, as if striking directly on Musa and Emilia's nerves. The air around him grew heavier with every step, as if the mansion itself feared his approach.
Musa tightened his grip on Emilia, his eyes locked onto that figure. His heart pounded with painful urgency, and every hair on his body stood on end, alert with primal instinct. This wasn't just fear it was a visceral sense that they were standing before something not of this world.
'Who is he? A vampire? A servant of the curse?'Thoughts raced wildly in Musa's mind.
"Stay behind me," Musa whispered to Emilia, though he knew full well he had no power to stand against a being like this.
A faint laugh escaped the young man as he drew closer, a serpent-like hiss that carried no amusement only deadly mockery.
"That's what I love about you humans…" he said, his voice deep and layered, "your hearts betray you before your lips ever do."
He paused halfway down the stairs, his burning eyes fixing on Musa, then shifting to Emilia, who could barely stand, her breath rattling faintly in her throat.
"Did you open the door?" Musa asked, his voice trembling but sharp.
The young man answered after a beat of silence, eyes half-lidded as if savoring the moment.
"I opened nothing… You reached the door at just the right moment. The mansion opens for those who've truly tasted despair… and you two were a ripe feast."
Musa froze. It felt like those words were aimed at him directly, as though the mansion itself had sensed his moment of surrender before he'd decided to turn back.
"What do you want from us?" Emilia asked in a faint voice. She was still gasping for air, but her gaze was sharp, defiant against her weakness.
The young man finally reached the last step, stepping onto the floor with barely a sound.
"Nothing… for now. Just watching. You've entered the mansion its rules no longer apply."
He stepped forward once more, lifting his hand. Suddenly, a small mirror appeared in midair before him, its surface as black as a void.
"One of you carries the curse…" he whispered, his gaze locking onto Musa. "And your eye… speaks louder than it should."
Musa's eye widened. He stepped back, feeling his left eye tremble involuntarily.
"What are you?" Musa asked at last, his mind giving up on understanding and choosing confrontation instead.
The young man gave a cold, faint smile.
"I'm… merely a servant of this place. But don't worry if you play the game well, you might walk out alive."
Then he turned and pointed toward a staircase behind him one that hadn't been there when they arrived. It was narrow and spiraled tightly, pulsing with a faint red glow, as if it led into endless depths.
"Do you choose to leave? Or do you choose the game?"
He paused, then smiled wide, his fangs catching the light once more.
"The curse has already chosen you."
The sentence echoed inside their heads like a heavy chime, and every fiber of their bodies trembled involuntarily. An invisible feeling seeped into their hearts… the unmistakable sense that their old lives had ended at that threshold, and that the mansion wasn't just a building it was a living entity, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Then suddenly
"Pooof!"
A loud, unexpected laugh tore through the silence like a whip, filling the hall with a hysterical echo that clashed violently with the solemn composure the young man had held just moments before. He was laughing with a slight forward lean, one hand on his stomach, the other wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
"Oh… your expressions are priceless!" he said in a strange yet perfectly clear language, then continued laughing, "Did you see his face?!" He pointed at Musa, still snickering.
The two were stunned, caught between terror and confusion.
"I was just… kidding," he waved a hand as if apologizing for a dark joke, though his tone still carried a hidden malice.
"The curse? The curse? Who even uses such dramatic words anymore? You two expect too much from a worn-down, abandoned place."
He added with excessive mockery,
"The game? Oh yes, we've got chessboards, ghosts playing cards, a dance-off in the basement… winner gets their soul back."
He suddenly fell silent, voice lowering like he was sharing an intimate secret:
"Just kidding again."
He stepped closer, and in his eyes, a dangerous gleam flickered unmistakably.
"But what I'm not joking about… is that you've entered. And now, whatever the reason you won't leave the same."
His laughter faded slowly, replaced by a deadly calm.
He stared at them for a moment, then turned slowly and walked toward a dark corridor that had just appeared in the wall, leaving behind the faint sound of his steps… and a silence heavier than any threat.
'What is going on here?' Musa thought to himself, completely at a loss. The situation had turned chaotic frightening in a way that felt deeply wrong.
He kept staring at the spot where the strange man disappeared, breath still ragged, mind unable to grasp what had just happened. He couldn't tell if it had all been a cruel mind game or the beginning of something far worse.
Emilia clung tighter to his arm, as if making sure he was still beside her. She was still panting, her face pale, but her eyes were sharp, alert like something dormant had awakened inside her.
"What is this place?" Musa muttered, barely audible.
Emilia didn't answer. She was staring at the corridor the stranger had entered. That hallway hadn't been there before. There had been nothing on that wall… and now, a dark stone opening, reeking of ancient dust and centuries-old decay.
"Do you think he was actually joking?" Emilia asked in a hushed tone.
"No," Musa answered without hesitation, eyes fixed on the void. "He wasn't joking. He's just… enjoying himself."
Then, from the depths of silence, came another sound soft, whispering as if it crawled from the mansion itself. Overlapping voices in languages they couldn't understand. It was as if the very walls had begun whispering to each other after the "host" had vanished.
"We need to get out of here," Emilia said firmly, beginning to step cautiously back toward the entrance they had come through.
But as they turned around
There was no door.
The wall behind them was completely sealed. No sign of the entrance, no light from outside, not even the rug that had once lined the threshold. Just a smooth, dark wall, as if nothing had ever opened here.
"No…" Musa whispered, rushing forward and banging his hand against the surface.
"It's gone…" Emilia said, stepping back and looking around.
Then, from the ceiling, fell the first drop.
It was black. Heavy. It hit the floor with a dull sound, like blood or something older.
They both looked up slowly.
There was nothing above them… yet the drops continued. One… two… three… The air grew thick with the smell of iron and ashes.
Then came footsteps again but they weren't human.
Something else… was crawling.
Emilia spun toward Musa. One look was all it took to know what he was thinking.
"The corridor?" she asked.
He nodded.
"The corridor."
And they ran. Toward the place the vampire had vanished. Toward the unknown because the unknown… had become their only option.
The hallway was suffocatingly narrow, the stone walls brushing their shoulders, the low ceiling pressing down as if the mansion itself wanted to crush them. Every few steps, the torches along the walls flickered nervously, as if afraid of what passed nearby. The dim red light pulsed like a dying heart… or like the mansion itself was breathing through its stone veins.
Musa led the way, his eyes darting between the walls, every muscle taut. Right behind him, Emilia struggled to breathe. She was no longer coughing, but her features were tight with instinctive fear. The only sounds were their footsteps… and the relentless drip behind them, still pursuing.
"How long is this corridor?" Musa muttered, raising the dim torch he'd pulled from the wall moments before.
"It feels like it's twisting in on itself…" Emilia replied quietly, placing a hand on the wall. "The stone here… it's warm."
Musa stopped abruptly.
"Listen…" he said, his face freezing.
Emilia stopped too, straining her ears. And then she heard it.
A whisper.
Coming from ahead. Someone murmuring to themselves or reading something very softly, in words she couldn't understand.
Musa moved closer, then suddenly snuffed out the torch with his hand.
"Are you crazy?!" Emilia hissed in panic.
"They can hear us. The light guides them," he said firmly, then crept forward, feeling the walls.
The whispers grew clearer… and then, suddenly, they stopped.
A heavy silence fell choking and absolute.
Then… light.
A faint glow from a bend in the corridor ahead.
They crept closer, Musa raising a hand to halt Emilia.
His eyes widened.
A small, square room carved from stone. At its center stood a circular stone platform. And on the platform… a figure.
It wasn't moving.
It wore a heavy black cloak. Its head bowed as if sleeping, hands resting on its knees. Like a sculpture or a being in deep slumber. But it wasn't made of stone. It was real… and the dust in the air around it told them it had been there for a very, very long time.
"Is that…" Emilia began, but Musa silenced her with a gesture.
He took one step inside.
Creak.
From the ceiling.
They looked up but nothing was there.
Then, without warning, the figure on the platform raised its head.
Its eyes were closed… but Musa felt them pierce his skin.
Then it opened them.
And they were pitch black no whites, no soul.
And suddenly, it spoke:
"You've arrived… the first players."