Lynette found herself on the first floor.

  “I’ll give you a short tour of the mansion,” Dorian said, his mood noticeably lighter.

  She nodded, unable to take her eyes off his faint smile. Her heart was still racing, but no longer from fear — the unfamiliar sensation of something new intertwined with curiosity.

  They moved from one room to another. Every step echoed in the silence, and Lynette studied her surroundings as if she had stepped into another world.

  “Toilet’s on the left, bathroom on the right,” he said, gesturing casually.

  The rooms were hidden behind simple, undecorated doors, yet even in their simplicity there was a sense of order and refinement.

  “The kitchen,” Dorian said. “We’ll cook here, taking turns. Tomorrow it’s your turn.”

  The kitchen looked aristocratic. Tall cabinets stretched along the walls, their doors marked with faint scratches — traces of many years of use. The wide, even countertop gave an impression of precision and durability.

  In the center stood a massive table with sturdy legs, its surface flawless. Above it, copper and brass cookware hung neatly.

  In the corner stood a large cast-iron stove with heavy doors, shelves of pots in various sizes arranged beside it.

  Everything was thoughtfully organized. Dry grains and spices filled the cabinets; flour and sugar were stored in the pantry. In a separate storage room — vegetables and fruit, and in ice chests — butter, meat, and dairy.

  Copper and glass jars filled with jam, honey, and pickled goods completed the picture, reinforcing the sense of order.

  “Alright,” Lynette smiled faintly.

  During her former life of luxury, she had never seen such a variety of ingredients. Unexpectedly, this feeling of ordinary life in such a strange house soothed her.

  Dorian moved on, and she followed him.

  He’s a little taller than me…

  “The basement is a forbidden zone,” he said. “The entrance only appears at night. And not always in the same place.”

  What’s down there? And the entrance appears only at night?..

  After finishing the tour of the first floor, they went upstairs. Dorian quickly showed her the main rooms before stopping in front of a brown-painted door.

  At its center was a white flower. Its petals stretched outward, as if reaching for the shadows. The core was woven with thin, almost shimmering lines, giving the image an eerie sense of life.

  Lynette couldn’t look away. The image stirred memories from botanical books — delicate petals, majestic form, nocturnal charm. Familiar, yet mesmerizing.

  “The Queen of the Night…” she whispered.

  Selenicereus… it blooms only at night. I never thought it would guard my sleep.

  “This is the only room with a painting,” Dorian said calmly. “Bring your things here and arrange it however you like.”

  She glanced around. The window faced the inner courtyard — empty, but cozy. Exactly what her life had been missing.

  A bed with wooden slats stood against the wall, without a mattress.

  “We’ll be living here together,” Dorian added. “I’ll sleep in the room next door.”

  It sounds strange… yet somehow comforting.

  “And one more thing,” he said, holding the doorknob. “You’ll be seeing nightmares often. You may see strange things, hear unfamiliar sounds… They won’t harm you, but they can be terrifying.”

  “Why?”

  “From midnight to six a.m., paranormal activity is strongest,” Dorian explained. “This house has accumulated negative energy. Its history is more interesting than it seems… In fact, the entire estate was granted by the king after the family was freed from a curse.”

  He led her to his study.

  “The house is centuries old. The renovation is unfinished, and anyone who stayed here overnight without preparation disappeared. Now everything is under control,” he added. “A cursed house is the best place to work in this field. But remember — if you see something supernatural, don’t interact with it.”

  Lynette listened in silence, carefully processing every word. At first, the house frightened her, but since childhood she had longed to understand the world — all of it. Somewhere deep in her mind, a quiet joy began to bloom.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Alright,” she said softly. “I understand.”

  “It’s almost midnight. You can sleep in my room. I’ll stay here and work.”

  I didn’t even notice how quickly the day passed.

  “And how do you know the time?” she asked, a little confused but curious.

  Dorian froze for a moment, as if caught off guard.

  “I keep time by this silver dial,” he said, showing her the watch. “I rarely lose track.”

  He remained mysterious, his gaze hiding thoughts Lynette couldn’t read.

  “You should rest. The doors don’t lock, but don’t open them for anyone, no matter who asks. I’ll come for you myself tomorrow.”

  “Then… good night.”

  Leaving the study, Lynette headed for her room. Only then did she notice the kerosene lamps lining the corridor.

  A chill ran down her spine, cold sweat breaking out on her skin.

  The lamps, alternating from wall to wall, began to change colors chaotically. Each one shimmered with a new shade — yellow, white, blue, pink… then black — changing in a mesmerizing way. She turned around cautiously — the same thing happened behind her. Each flicker reflected in her eyes, the light dancing across the walls as if alive.

  “It’s… beautiful,” she whispered, feeling the tension slowly fade.

  Each flash erased her anxiety, leaving behind a strange, trembling fascination.

  There’s still time… I’ll just stand here a little longer…

  She stood there, enchanted, when suddenly words crossed her mind, like a whisper in the silence:

  You’ll see strange things…

  They came without warning. She hadn’t expected it so soon.

  “No… pull yourself together!” she cried, slapping her cheek.

  Her legs trembled, her body growing heavy, as if filled with lead.

  Gathering what remained of her courage, Lynette rushed forward, avoiding the strange light. At last, she reached Dorian’s door. Her hands trembled, but determination outweighed fear.

  She turned the handle and stepped inside. The door clicked, bringing a sense of calm. Darkness… fear… stayed behind.

  “I… ha… huff… I fell for the illusion! Why didn’t I run right away?!”

  It’s my first time facing something like this…

  After steadying her thoughts, she calmed down and carefully looked around.

  The room was restrained yet elegant. A bed stood against the wall, a desk with writing tools and a bookshelf nearby.

  Wardrobes and dressers with copper fittings occupied the corners. Several candelabras provided warm, gentle light.

  Lynette removed her gloves. Beneath the thin fabric were traces of past labor — scars, uneven burn marks. She paused, staring at her hands.

  Then she slowly removed her outer clothes, hung them in one of the wardrobes, and remained in a nightgown of soft milky-gray fabric. It fell loosely, without decoration, reaching just below her knees.

  Taking a few steps into the room, she noticed a full-length mirror leaning against the wall. She approached and looked at herself.

  A girl with tired green eyes stared back at her. A gentle face with slightly sharp features. Straight dark hair fell to her shoulders, disheveled after the long day.

  “I don’t look great…”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, thought for a moment, then lay down. But the moment her head touched the pillow, a knock echoed at the door.

  What the…? I just got into bed…

  The knocking continued, growing louder with each удар. Lynette tiptoed to the door — and the sound suddenly stopped.

  Silence lasted only seconds before a voice came from the corridor:

  “Let me in. I forgot something…”

  Dorian?

  Her hand reached for the handle — then his words flashed through her mind:

  Don’t open the door for anyone.

  “If it’s not him… then who is it?”

  Her throat tightened. She loosened her grip, stepped back, took a deep breath, and said quietly but firmly:

  “You can come in yourself. Are there any problems?”

  The voice changed instantly — becoming childlike, whimpering:

  “You’re just like him… I’m cold… It hurts! You’re evil!”

  Like him?..

  The sound of small feet echoed down the corridor, fading away. Lynette exhaled in relief. Her heart still raced, but at last she believed it.

  The danger has passed… I think it’s time to rest.

  With that thought, she relaxed and sank into the soft, comfortable bed. Her eyes slowly closed as the space itself quietly observed her first night in the new house.

  ***

  Warm rays of morning sunlight slipped through the window, gently touching her face. Lynette turned in bed a few times, still half-asleep, before finally opening her eyes.

  “Huh? Morning already… what time is it?” she whispered, stretching.

  After a long yawn, she felt a surge of energy.

  The candelabras were empty — the candles that had burned all night were long gone. She smiled faintly, remembering she’d forgotten to extinguish them.

  She had slept wonderfully. All fatigue had vanished without a trace.

  “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” a familiar voice said.

  Dorian stood in the doorway, wearing a simple cotton shirt and dark trousers — slightly wrinkled, but comfortable.

  “What… what are you doing here?!” she blurted out.

  Lynette dove under the blanket, leaving only her face visible. Her cheeks burned, her heart raced, and her lips pressed tight with embarrassment.

  I know how this looks, but…

  “Well… it is my room. And I said I’d come in,” he replied calmly, his faint smile unchanged.

  They stared at each other.

  “That’s true…”

  “If that’s the case,” he said, “I’ll be waiting downstairs. Don’t forget — it’s time for breakfast.”

  Lynette dressed quickly and headed to the kitchen. She stood there for a few seconds, deciding what to make, then took a deep breath and reached for the cabinets — her movements slow but confident in the morning haze.

  “It’s my turn to cook today…” she muttered.

  As she bustled around the kitchen, Dorian watched.

  “What are you making?”

  “Here,” she said confidently, handing him a plate of eggs and bacon.

  Dorian picked up his utensils and tasted it.

  Well… how’s it taste?

  Lynette stood nearby, not touching her own plate, waiting.

  “Edible,” he said calmly.

  The corners of her lips twitched and fell. He noticed and added:

  “Tasty. But there’s room for improvement.”

  Only then did Lynette start eating, smiling faintly to herself.

  At least I can repay him somehow.

  “Thank you,” Dorian said, pushing aside his empty plate.

  He’s done already? I’ve just started…

  “Today you’ll need to bring all your belongings here. I’ll prepare the bed and bring what’s needed — you handle your clothes.”

  “And what about telling my mother about my leave?” she asked, chewing on bacon.

  “Try to do it quickly,” he said calmly, though tension slipped into his voice. “I’ll send people today. You’ll need a convincing story.”

  Who are you, really? Should I even ask?.. No… There’s no rush.

  “Mm-hm…” she replied, continuing to eat.

  Dorian stood up and headed upstairs. Lynette was overflowing with curiosity, but didn’t dare disturb him.

  After finishing breakfast, she washed the dishes and left for the city, thinking over what story she would tell her mother.