Night slowly descended upon the city that should not exist.
From a distance, it looked peaceful—unnaturally so. Lanterns burned without flickering, casting steady light across stone streets that showed no sign of age, dust, or decay. No guards watched the walls. No people walked the roads. And yet, the city did not feel abandoned.
It felt… aware.
Vicky moved forward in silence, his footsteps echoing too clearly against the stone. Each sound lingered longer than it should have, as if the city itself refused to let go of his presence.
A familiar pressure bloomed behind his eyes.
Not sharp.
Not sudden.
A dull, constant headache—patient and heavy.
He stopped for a moment, pressing his fingers lightly to his temple. The pain didn't worsen, but it didn't fade either. It felt as if something was waiting. Watching.
"This place is strange," Luka said quietly, staying a respectful distance behind him. "It reacts to you."
Vicky lowered his hand.
"It doesn't feel hostile."
"No," Luka agreed. "It feels old."
They continued deeper into the city, passing empty buildings carved with symbols worn smooth by time. Some doors were half-open, frozen in the act of being abandoned. Others were sealed shut, as if guarding secrets that no longer had names.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became.
Finally, they reached the edge of the city.
There, standing apart from the silent structures, was a mansion.
Or what remained of one.
Its walls were cracked, parts of the roof collapsed, and the entrance hung crooked on broken hinges. Vines crawled along the stone like veins, and the windows stared back like hollow eyes.
"This will do," Vicky said calmly.
Inside, the mansion was cold but dry. The main hall was littered with fallen stone and broken furniture, yet the structure itself still stood. Luka quickly cleared a small area, ensuring no immediate danger remained.
"You should rest," Luka said. "Your head hasn't stopped hurting."
Vicky nodded.
He lay down against the wall, closing his eyes as exhaustion finally claimed him. The headache dulled, retreating into the background like a distant echo.
Sleep came quietly.
Too quietly.
Darkness surrounded him—not the absence of light, but something deeper. He felt weightless, suspended between awareness and nothingness.
Then—
A voice.
Soft.
Close.
Not threatening.
Not kind.
"...Master…"
Vicky's eyes snapped open.
The mansion was silent.
No movement.
No presence.
Yet the word lingered in the air, as real as a breath whispered against his ear.
"Master…"
The headache returned—slow, deliberate.
Vicky stared into the darkness ahead of him, expression unreadable.
And the city outside remained perfectly still.