When the seated man said, "You've arrived the first players," Musa's heart shudderedas though the words had come not from the man's mouth, but from deep within his own chest. He didn't flinch, didn't scream. He merely stood there, staring back, his face frozen in place.
Then suddenly… the man's body disintegrated.
Not into dust, not into blood but into shadows, scattering into the air as though he had never existed.
A moment later, hysterical laughter echoed through the room… from every direction. Not one laugh, but many, layered atop each other, all in the voice of the strange young man.
Then he appeared reclining lazily on the edge of an arched stone structure, as if enjoying a stroll. He clapped slowly, watching them with the smug delight of a man enjoying a private comedy.
"Oh… oh, priceless!" he howled with laughter, nearly doubling over. "You should've seen your face, Musa! You looked like you were about to cry!"
He then turned to Emilia, wiping away an imaginary tear with a dramatic flair. "And you, Queen of Pride… your leg was definitely shaking."
He took a deep breath, still chuckling, then leapt down effortlessly landing before them without a sound. That crooked, chaotic smile never left his lips.
"Oh, relax…" he said, hands raised as if to apologize. "Just a little test… to measure your fear. The results? Highly satisfying."
He fell silent for a moment, then took a step closer his eyes gleaming, like mirrors reflecting their inner dread.
As Musa and Emilia looked again, they noticed something had changed. His blood-red eyes were now deep blue, and the menacing vampire fangs were gone.
He snapped his fingers.
Effortlessly, as if in a dream, the floor before them cracked open with a quiet sigh. A mist of grey smoke rose from the split, and from it emerged a sleek, black table long and polished, as though carved from a single stone. Four wooden chairs followed, gliding into place as if carried by a graceful breeze. It was as if the entire room moved at his whim.
The strange man took a seat at one end of the table, crossing one leg over the other and resting an elbow on the armrest. A glass cup appeared in his hand seemingly from nowhere. He raised an eyebrow, his expression soaked in mockery.
"Sit down. Don't be rude. Hospitality is a dying art these days."
Musa stared at him coldly. Emilia's eyes flicked from the table to the man, her mind clearly scrambling to decode the twisted logic of this haunted play.
The man offered a more subdued smile this time and gestured with a theatrical flair, like lifting the curtain on a final act.
"And now… confessions."
He raised the glass to his lips, though he didn't drink. He merely inhaled the aroma inside, as if savoring a wine aged a thousand years.
"I was joking, of course. All that talk about curses, games, choices… pure entertainment. Can't a man have a little fun? A thousand years of boredom, Musa enough to turn even a saint into a jester."
He chuckled softly, then lowered the glass, locking eyes with Musa.
"But…" he said slowly, his voice suddenly dipped in ice, as though the very air paused to listen. "Everything was a joke… except one thing."
Silence.
"Your eye."
Musa blinked, confused. His hand went instinctively to the bandage wrapped around his left eye the one he had always ignored, always claimed was just an old injury.
The stranger pointed at him.
"Take it off."
Musa didn't move.
The strange young man stepped a little closer, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling seriousness.
"I'm not asking," he said.
The terror in Musa's bones silenced any thought of Emilia beside him or that his lifelong secret, hidden for nineteen years, was about to be revealed to someone outside the family for the first time. The fear crawling through him was too overwhelming. "The curse" that was the only phrase echoing through his mind.
Slowly, Musa's hand lifted. His fingers trembled slightly as they began to unwind the bandage, layer by layer. With each fold removed, a faint warmth seemed to escape from beneath the cloth as if his skin itself had been hiding a secret heat.
And when the last piece was undone… his eye was revealed.
It was nothing like the other.
A strange eye… bluish-green, shaped like a Latin clock, intricately detailed. The hands were still, yet they somehow seemed to move not in reality, but in the mind.
Emilia gasped.
"As I suspected," the strange young man said. "You're gifted." Then he added with a mocking tone, "I felt it the moment you stepped inside… that's why I chose to appear in person."
Now fully relaxed in his chair, the man dangled one arm over the side while his leg swayed casually atop the other. A wine glass appeared before him, and with lazy grace, he raised it to his lips, took a small sip, and gazed at them.
"All that performance… the red eyes, the shimmering staircase, the whispers of dread… just a little mental vacation." He burst into a hysterical laugh that echoed off the faint tongues of flame along the walls.
Then he stared at the revealed eye for a moment. He said nothing just raised an eyebrow.
Leaning back, he took a deep breath and turned his gaze to Emilia.
"And you…" he said, with a tone that chilled the room, "you've been hiding something as well, haven't you?"
Emilia didn't respond. Her eyes trembled for a heartbeat but she held her ground.
"You've always sensed things you shouldn't have… you knew the way to the manor, you predicted the shadow's arrival, and you were the first to feel this place was alive… didn't you?"
Musa turned toward her, cautious surprise in his eyes. There was something in his look an unspoken I knew it, as if he had always suspected but never had proof.
Emilia bit her lip and whispered, "I wasn't sure… and I didn't want to believe I was."
The young man smiled but not mockingly this time. It was a smile full of intrigue.
"Oh, you're both far more fascinating than I expected… the game hasn't even begun, and yet you're already laying your secrets bare."
"You're both gifted."
Musa and Emilia exchanged a tense glance. The air around them was still thick with uncertainty, their nerves stretched thin. Each was shocked by the other's truth though Emilia's shock was greater. She had always suspected Musa wasn't truly blind in one eye… but to be gifted?
At last, Musa asked in a cautious tone, tinged with suspicion:
"Who are you?"
A pause. The strange young man didn't answer right away. He simply raised the wine glass, examining its color in the flickering torchlight, as if testing their patience. Then, gently, he set the glass on the table and leaned forward his face slowly emerging from the shadows.
"A simple question… and not a complicated answer," he said softly.
Despite her exhaustion, Emilia clenched her fists and asked:
"Are you the owner of this mansion? Were you waiting for us?"
The man chuckled lightly, then gestured to himself.
"Me? Yes, I live here… have for a long, long time. So long, in fact, that forgetting has become easier than remembering. Was I waiting for you? No. Or maybe… yes. Who knows?" His answer only added to their tension.
The man's smile widened, as though he had anticipated the question all along. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced before his face.
"Since you've come this far… I suppose a little courtesy is in order."
He looked directly at Musa, then at Emilia, and said in a low, clear voice:
"My name is Veytan… Veytan Terisian."
He paused, as if the name itself had weight something that echoed across the stone halls.
Then he added with a hint of sarcasm:
"But spare me the titles. No 'Lord' or 'Master' needed. Just… Veytan."
He raised his glass again, sipping slowly, then exhaled with a long, contented sigh.
"You know… I haven't said that name in decades. It tastes strange on my tongue now."
Silence fell over the room. It was as though the air itself held its breath.
Musa didn't move, but Emilia stepped back a single, trembling step. Her face turned pale, the blood drained from her cheeks, and her eyes widened as she stared at the man before her.
"Veytan… Terisian?" she whispered, as if afraid the name might shatter if said too loudly.
Veytan smiled and raised an eyebrow.
"See? My name still echoes nicely through the bloodlines."
"But… that's impossible," Emilia said, her voice shaking with awe and fear. "Veytan Terisian died a thousand years ago! He was killed in the Great War that's what the family records say!"
Veytan gave a short, dry laugh, then reached for another glass, idly twirling it in his fingers.
"Ah… wars. Always burdened with more death than they deserve and always hiding what should be forgotten."
Musa glanced at Emilia in confusion, then looked at Veitane. "This… this is the prince you told me about?"
Emilia nodded slowly, still staring at the man as though seeing a ghost rise from the pages of history.
"He… he built the legacy of the Terisian bloodline and ended it with his own hands. Because of him, the mansion was raised. Because of him, the curse was banished. But… this is impossible."
Veytan laughed again, longer this time an empty sound that echoed through the grand hall.
"The curse? Is that what the family records claim? That I banished the curse?" He gave a nod of mock respect, then added in a devilish calm, "No one banished anything, my dear… I am the curse."
He tapped his fingers on the table once more and for a fleeting second, the shadows behind him seemed to vanish, as if the manor itself bowed in silent recognition.
"I didn't die. I wasn't forgotten. I remained here… waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the blood to choose me again."
Then he turned back to Musa, and in a voice carrying something hidden something ancient he said:
"And your eye… You're not of this bloodline, yet you arrived bearing a gift I haven't seen in centuries."
"What exactly is this gift? And what did you mean by the blood choosing you again?" Musa asked, his voice guarded, both his ordinary and strange eyes filled with fear.
"I'm not a lecturer or a teacher to explain gifts to you. You should've been taught the moment you were born. But it seems your luck was… rather poor. Or perhaps… far too good. Who knows?" Veytan answered, stretching with a yawn, then turned his gaze to Emilia.
"As for your question about the blood it's quite simple. I only need this girl's blood to be free."