CHAPTER 2
The next morning, their journey to the manor began.
The path seemed endless, stretching through forests that grew darker with every mile. By the time Lunette and her mother reached the entrance gate, midnight had already claimed the sky.
Lunette had expected a small wooden cottage—something humble, something ordinary.
But the structure before her was anything but.
A massive manor towered over the trees, ancient and solemn, its stone walls wrapped in creeping vines. It looked abandoned, eerie… yet Lunette felt an inexplicable pull toward it, as though the place were calling her home.
"This can't be ours," Lunette whispered, stunned. "Mother… whose manor is this? Who does it belong to?"
Luna kept walking, her silence louder than any answer.
"Mother, speak up, will you?" Lunette demanded, irritation slipping into her voice.
"You will know… when it's the right time," Luna replied, her tone soft but guarded.
"At least tell me who owned it," Lunette persisted.
Luna hesitated—only for a moment—before answering, "Your late aunt. My sister."
The words felt heavy, wrong.
Her mother had never spoken of any family, not even once.
But Lunette stayed silent and followed her inside.
The manor looked as though it had not been touched for a century. Dust clung to every surface, yet beneath the neglect lay undeniable beauty—arched ceilings, marble pillars, chandeliers that glittered faintly in the moonlight.
They climbed winding staircases that spiraled like those found in old castles. At last, Luna chose two bedrooms side by side. The rooms were coated in years of dust, so they cleaned until their arms ached.
When Lunette finally stepped into her room, she was mesmerized.
Even covered in shadows, it was breathtaking—like a forgotten princess's chamber.
She unpacked, took a long shower, and tried to sleep.
But sleep never came.
Restless, Lunette wandered through the manor's dim corridors. She explored room after room until she reached a maroon-colored door. Something about it felt… alive. She tried the handle—it was locked.
She decided to question her mother in the morning.
Just then, a cold breath brushed against her ear, and a deep, sharpened whisper echoed around her:
"Welcome, Lunette."
Her heart froze.
The voice was male—cold, possessive, and far too close.
The corridor fell silent, unnervingly silent. The air turned icy, and Lunette felt eyes watching her from the darkness.
She fled, racing back to her room and slamming the door shut.
She did not sleep for the rest of the night.
Her mind spiraled with questions.
Who was that voice?
How did he know her name?
Was she imagining it—or had something awakened?
The next morning during breakfast, Lunette asked, "Mother… why is the maroon door locked? What's inside?"
"Nothing special," Luna murmured. "You'll know when it's the right time."
Lunette's patience snapped. "Why do you always say that?"
But Luna didn't reply.
Frustrated, Lunette left the dining room, stepping into the vast garden behind the manor. The trees looked twisted, as though souls were trapped within their bark. Thorn-covered flowers hid their beauty behind layers of shadow.
As she looked up at the balcony of her room, she froze.
A hooded figure dressed in black stood there, facing her.
But the moment Lunette's eyes met his, he slipped inside her room.
She sprinted upstairs and flung the door open.
Nothing.
No trace.
Not in the closet, not in the bathroom, not even on the balcony.
Her heart thundered.
She needed to tell her mother.
But when she reached Luna's door, she heard her mother speaking to someone—yet only Luna's voice echoed. It was as if she were arguing with a person only she could hear.
Lunette pressed her ear against the wood, but the words were muffled.
She gathered her courage and knocked.
Luna opened the door immediately.
"What is it, Lunette?" she asked.
Lunette forced a calm, casual smile. "Just… checking on you. I'm leaving now."
She turned away before her mother could notice her trembling hands.
Back in her room, Lunette stepped onto the balcony.
She stared at the forest, at the shadows, at the endless questions swirling inside her.
Why couldn't she tell her mother the truth?
Why did the words die in her throat every time she tried?
Something inside that manor was watching her.
Waiting for her.
And somehow… she felt it was only the beginning.
The wind whispered through the trees below, brushing Lunette's hair as she leaned on the cold balcony rail. Her thoughts tangled like vines—tight, heavy, impossible to pull apart.
She had seen someone.
She knew she had.
Yet when she stood before her mother, the words refused to leave her throat.
A soft tremor passed through the air.
Lunette stiffened.
The forest that usually rustled with life now stood unsettlingly still. Not a single leaf moved. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath.
Then—
Tap.
The faint sound echoed from behind her.
She turned slowly.
Her room was dark, the curtains swaying only slightly… but there was something different. The shadows looked deeper than before, almost shaped—almost breathing.
Her heart hammered.
"Who's there?" Lunette whispered.
Silence.
But the air grew colder, as if someone unseen had stepped closer.
Her birthmark tingled—then began to glow beneath her collar, faint but unmistakable. Heat spread across her skin, warning her, urging her to run… or to listen.
A low voice curled through the darkness, soft as smoke, sharp as glass:
"Why did you stop yourself, Lunette?"
Her breath caught.
It was the same voice she heard by the maroon door.
Cold. Deep. Possessive.
She stepped back, gripping the balcony rail so tightly her knuckles whitened.
"Show yourself," she demanded, though her voice wavered.
A quiet chuckle came from somewhere inside her room—too close.
Too familiar.
"Not yet."
A breeze swept through the balcony, icy against her skin.
The curtains flew upward as if someone walked past them.
Lunette stumbled into her room and slammed the balcony doors shut.
Her heartbeat was a thunder in her ears.
The voice had returned.
It was real.
It knew her name.
It watched her.
It questioned her.
And worst of all—
It sounded like it had been waiting for her.
She stood in the center of her room, trembling, staring at the shadows that no longer looked empty.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
The air answered with a slight shift, like a presence leaning toward her.
"You."
The word lingered, echoing through the room before fading into silence.
Lunette's breath shook.
Her birthmark stopped glowing, but fear still clung to her like cold hands.
She backed onto her bed and curled up, watching the shadows until the morning light finally crept through the curtains.
But even when the sun rose…
She couldn't shake the feeling that something—
or someone—
was still watching her.
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