Trying to control her breathing, Rhea trailed Adrian into the mansion. The marble corridor reverberated with each step, as though the entire mansion was listening. Chandeliers glowed dimly, doors stood half-open as if someone had just walked through them, and every portrait on the walls watched her with painted eyes that felt too alive.
Adrian stopped suddenly and turned.
"From tonight onward," he said, voice low, "this house is your home. But remember—never wander after midnight."
Rhea frowned. "Why?"
He stared at her for a long moment, as if deciding how much truth she could handle.
"Because the mansion doesn't sleep," he finally answered.
Before she could respond, a soft sound came from the end of the corridor—a faint tapping, like knuckles on wood.
Rhea froze. Adrian's jaw tightened.
"We'll talk later," he said, placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her forward.
He took her to a large bedroom on the second floor.
"This will be yours," he said quietly.
Rhea gasped as she entered.
Warm lights softly lit the beautiful room. From a balcony overlooking the lake behind the house, the scent of fresh lilies filled the air. But something wasn't quite right. A cold breeze brushed her arm even though the balcony doors were shut tight.
"Did… someone open the window?" she whispered.
"No," Adrian said. "This room just feels things. You'll get used to it."
Rhea blinked. Was he joking? His expression told her he wasn't.
Before she could question him, a gentle knock came from behind.
A woman in her late fifties, dressed in black, entered with a bow.
"This is Mrs. Helene," Adrian said. "She's the head housekeeper."
Helene's smile was stiff, almost strained.
"Welcome, Mrs. Knight. Dinner will be served in an hour."
Mrs. Knight.
The name hit Rhea like a wave. She wasn't used to it yet.
As Helene left, Rhea exhaled shakily. "This place… feels strange."
"It is strange," Adrian replied honestly.
"You said the house doesn't sleep. What does that mean?" she asked.
Adrian's expression darkened, silent for a moment.
"It means this mansion holds memories. And some memories don't like to be forgotten."
Rhea felt a chill run down her spine.
"Adrian… What exactly am I living with?"
He looked at her—really looked—his eyes softer than she had ever seen.
"Me," he said. "And my curse."
Before she could speak, a sudden crash echoed through the hallway.
Rhea jumped. Adrian grabbed her wrist.
"Stay here. Do not leave this room," he commanded.
"But—"
"No arguments."
He shut the door and disappeared down the corridor, footsteps vanishing into darkness.
Rhea stood alone in the center of the room, heart pounding. The silence felt too heavy. Too alive.
Then—
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Her eyes widened.
The sound was coming from inside her room.
Slowly… unwillingly… she turned her head toward the wardrobe.
The door of the wardrobe trembled, as if something inside wanted to come out.
Rhea's breath broke.
"Adrian…?" she whispered.
No answer.
The tapping grew louder.
Tap… tap… tap.
And then—
The wardrobe door creaked open by itself.
Rhea staggered back, pressing her hand against her mouth.
A cold whisper brushed past her ear.
Welcome… bride of the cursed one.