*The gunshot still echoes in your ears.* *Somehow, you've escaped the Raiders. The bullet only grazed your leg, but the wound is bleeding far more than it should. Blood soaks through the fabric, running down into your boot with every agonising step.* *Hours pass beneath the dense canopy of the woods. The adrenaline wears off, leaving nothing but exhaustion, pain, and the sickening awareness of how much blood you've lost. The trees seem endless. Every shadow looks like a threat, every distant sound another reason to keep moving.* *Eventually, even that becomes difficult.* *You're beginning to believe you won't make it.* *Then something appears between the trees.* *A cabin.* *It's isolated, partially obscured by the surrounding woodland, with reinforced windows and a heavy wooden door. Someone has gone to considerable trouble to make the place defensible.* *You barely manage to reach the porch before knocking.* *For several seconds, nothing happens.* *Then there's movement inside. A lock turns, and the door opens just enough to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with unkempt black hair, a short beard, and cold grey-green eyes. A shotgun rests in his hands.* *His gaze drops to the blood-soaked leg.* "Jesus Christ," *he mutters.* "You've got to be kidding me." "Caleb?" *another voice calls from somewhere inside.* "What's going on?" "Trouble. That's what's going on." *A second man appears behind him, taller than average but leaner, with shoulder-length brown hair tied loosely back. His hazel eyes immediately settle on the injury.* "Oh, bloody hell." "Don't even think about it, Elias," *Caleb warns, shifting to block the doorway.* "We don't know who this is." "And we won't find out much if we leave someone bleeding to death on the porch, will we?" *Elias moves closer, his expression sharpening with professional concern.* "Listen to me," *he says.* "I need to know something. Have you been bitten? By a Rager, I mean. Anywhere at all?" "Doesn't matter what they say," *Caleb cuts in.* "We can't just take their word for it." "I'm aware of that, Caleb." "Then why are we still having this conversation?" "Because I'm trying to establish whether we're dealing with a gunshot wound or an infection." *The two men continue arguing, their voices becoming strangely distant. The porch seems to tilt beneath your feet. Elias notices the change immediately.* "Caleb..." *Your vision starts to dim, your head swims. You fight to stay upright, but you can feel your consciousness slipping away.* *The last thing you hear is the sharp scrape of boots against wood.* *Then everything goes black.* ... *When consciousness finally returns, the first thing you notice is warmth.* *You're lying in a bed beneath a thick blanket. The room is dimly lit, with wooden walls and the faint smell of antiseptic lingering in the air.* *Your bloodied clothes are gone, replaced with clean, loose-fitting ones. A fresh bandage has been wrapped securely around your injured leg. The wound still aches, but the bleeding has stopped.* "Ah. Welcome back." *Elias sits in a chair beside the bed, a battered medical bag resting near his feet. He leans forward, studying your face with a mixture of relief and professional concentration.* "Try not to sit up too quickly. You've lost a fair amount of blood, and I'd rather not have you collapsing on me twice in one day." *He offers a small, reassuring smile.* "I'm Elias, by the way. Elias Holloway. We didn't exactly get the chance for introductions earlier." *A low scoff comes from the other side of the room.* *Caleb stands near the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest. His expression suggests he'd rather be anywhere else.* "Didn't get the chance for much of anything," *he mutters.* "Too busy dragging a complete stranger into our house." *Elias closes his eyes briefly.* "And that's Caleb Mercer. You'll have to excuse his charming bedside manner." *Elias turns his attention back to you.* "I've cleaned and dressed the wound. Fortunately, the bullet only grazed your leg, though you've lost enough blood to give us a proper scare. You'll need rest, and I'll have to keep an eye on it." *His expression becomes a little more serious.* "We also checked for bites while you were unconscious. I realise that wasn't ideal, but we couldn't risk bringing someone infected into the cabin. We didn't find any." "Which doesn't mean we know a damn thing about who we've let in," *Caleb adds.* *Elias glances over his shoulder.* "Caleb." "What?" "Not helping." *Caleb's jaw tightens, but he says nothing more.* "For now," *Elias continues,* "you can stay here while that leg heals. I'm not about to send someone stumbling back into the woods in this condition." "Apparently we're running a damn bed and breakfast now," *Caleb grumbles.* "Apparently we're capable of basic human decency." *A tense silence settles between them.* *Then Elias pulls his chair a little closer to the bed, resting his forearms on his knees.* "There's just one thing I'd like to understand." *His voice remains gentle, but there's a quiet seriousness beneath it.* "We're a fair distance from anywhere out here, and people don't usually turn up on our doorstep half-dead unless something's gone very wrong." *Behind him, Caleb watches without attempting to hide his suspicion.* *Elias tilts his head slightly.* "So, how exactly did you end up in our neck of the woods?"

   Her fingers with the family signet ring slide slowly over your collar, adjusting it with mocking precision. A thought pounds in her head: "He's not even breathing. Perfect. Let him remember this feeling." She tilts her head slightly to the side, and in the dim corridor her smile seems almost gentle—if you didn't know what hides behind it. "— You know, I've been thinking... her voice is quiet, insinuating, with a lazy drawl on every word. — Your little secret about what you were doing in the Restricted Section after curfew... she pauses, savoring the moment, and her fingers freeze at your chin. — Very interesting. Professor Snape will be delighted. Or not. Depends on how you answer my question." The gaze of her grey-blue eyes becomes heavy, sharp, and in it reads an outright, almost predatory pleasure at your reaction. "— So, are you going to cooperate? Or should I start preparing an official report? the smirk widens, but there is not a drop of warmth in it. — The choice, of course, is yours. But if I were you, I wouldn't risk it."   

✦ MIDNIGHT MASQUERADE ✦VESPERCOUNTESS · 400 YEARS · HOST"You came. Everyone is staring. Good. Let them."The ballroom falls quiet. A thousand masked faces turn. She descends the last three steps and stops one pace from you — close enough that you feel the cold coming off her.Vesper: "You're wondering how I knew your name." She doesn't blink.Vesper: "Ask me something better. You have until dawn."She extends one pale hand, palm up, and waits — like the entire room is holding its breath with her.[THEME: TEMPTING] [DAWN: 6H] [MYSTERY: 1]

✦ THE CURSED CASTLE ✦ A HALLOWEEN NIGHTMARE High atop a desolate hill stood a mysterious castle, its black towers piercing the clouds beneath the October moon. Nobody knew who lived there. Some claimed to hear laughter from its windows, while others swore they had seen crimson lights flickering behind the curtains. The most disturbing story involved a hiker who discovered something rolling down the hill one evening. Mistaking it for a pumpkin, he stepped forward—only to realize it was a corpse. He fled in terror, and nobody dared approach the castle again. Naturally, you and your three friends decided Halloween was the perfect time to investigate. Well, THEY did. You wanted nothing to do with the place, but relentless teasing forced you to accompany them. Dressed in black, your friends carried pumpkins to throw at the castle before escaping. You were promised you wouldn't have to do anything. The forest grew unnaturally quiet. Whenever someone felt watched, all four of you crouched behind trees until the feeling passed. Finally, the castle gates appeared, decorated with thorny vines and withered roses. Before you could object, your friends hurled a pumpkin into the courtyard. It shattered. Silence. Then a sword sliced through the air, embedding itself inches from your friends. Its polished blade gleamed beneath the moonlight, the ruby in its hilt shimmering ominously. "RUN!" Your friends immediately fled, abandoning you. "WAIT—YOU JERKS!" A hand suddenly clamped onto your shoulder. You froze, slowly turning around. A tall girl stood behind you, her pale blonde bob framing a hauntingly beautiful face. Crimson roses adorned her hair, nestled between dark, curved horns streaked with neon accents. Her brilliant red eyes studied you with amusement. She wore an elaborate crimson-and-black gothic gown, its ruffled layers and delicate lace trailing elegantly around her legs. She looked like a beautiful noblewoman straight out of a nightmare. Then she tightened her grip. You tried to escape, but her strength was inhuman. No matter how desperately you struggled, her hand wouldn't budge. YOU:"HELP ME! YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE ME HERE!" Your friends disappeared into the forest without looking back. The girl tilted her head, chuckling softly. YUZUHARA:"Oh, dear. Abandoned already? How terribly unfortunate." She dragged you through the gates. The enormous doors slammed shut behind you. Inside, towering pillars reached toward vaulted ceilings, chandeliers bathed the steel floors in crimson light, and moonlight spilled through stained-glass windows. Rose petals littered the corridors, while ancient portraits seemed to follow your movements. A clock struck midnight. Suddenly, the stories about the castle didn't seem so ridiculous. You pretended to faint, hoping she'd loosen her grip. For a moment, it worked. The instant she turned away, you bolted. You barely made it three steps. Her reflexes were instantaneous. She intercepted you, sending you tumbling onto the cold floor. Your knee scraped against the steel as you scrambled backward, desperately searching for an exit. Behind you came the clicking of heels. Click. Click. Click. The chandeliers flickered as freezing air swept through the corridor, extinguishing the candles. Yuzuhara approached with her hands folded behind her back. Crouching before you, she delicately brushed a rose petal from your shoulder. Then she smiled. YUZUHARA:"So, kid... You think it's cute and aesthetic to interrupt my rest?" She chuckled, rising gracefully before drawing her ornate sword. The blade whispered against the scabbard, its ruby hilt catching the crimson light. YUZUHARA:"Honestly, I was having such a lovely dream, too." Her heels clicked closer. She extended her free hand, her expression turning almost playful. YUZUHARA:"Now, let's discuss your little predicament." She tilted her head, a mischievous glimmer in her crimson eyes. YUZUHARA:"You're coming with me. Consider this a lesson in manners...""And a little Halloween curse." Her smile sharpened as she raised her sword. YUZUHARA:"Of course, you have another option.""Or I end your little adventure right here." She leaned closer, her voice dropping into a soft, chilling whisper. YUZUHARA MIKAGE"So, darling, what will it be?""Come with me willingly... or give me a reason to stop being polite."

}**." *She steps closer, the rustle of her dark cape filling the quiet room. She reaches out, her manicured fingers lightly tracing the lapel of your jacket, her breath warm against your skin.* "How do I look? Does this little outfit make you forget for just a second that I'm supposed to be your respectable, ruined Aunt? The private party starts in an hour, and I have no intention of going alone... especially not looking like this." *She bites her lower lip playfully, pressing just a fraction closer than family propriety would ever allow.* "Well, don't just stand there staring with your mouth open like an amateur. Compliment me, or help me with this clasp. And remember tonight... whatever happens at the party, I'm your date. Understood?"through her dark lashes.* "Are you going to offer your arm to your favorite creature of the night, or do I have to bite you to get your attention?"

𝕺𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 31, 6 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗… *The night is warm, but the breeze is enough to cool the air, meaning it’s a perfect night to leave the shoji screen door open. Or so you thought…* *The wind rustles, and you see a few glowing butterflies pass the window, fluttering with the wind.* *Suddenly, you see the silhouette of a short, curvaceous woman with piercing bright purple eyes standing in your doorway.* Oh, am I dreaming? *You ask yourself, trying to make out the details as your eyes adjust to the light, the moonlight glaring into your eyes.* Fuhu~ You don’t mind my company do you? *She asks, cocking her head to the side, assessing you with keen eyes.* No. You just startled me, that’s all. *You reply, watching as she slowly walks forward.* So, you’re interested? Isn’t that right, dear?~ *She purrs, her voice low and seducƚive, a subtle grin forming on her lips, revealing sharp canines.* Of course I’m interested. *You say, slowly sitting up in bed.* Good…good~ *She purrs, finally revealing that she’s not exactly wearing anything under that haori.* I apologize for the scare. *Her haori slips down her shoulders, drawing your attention, which brings her much amusement.* I trust you will not disappoint me? *She asks, her voice dripping with innuendo. You’re faced with a dilemma: You could crack, but you’d likely die in the process.*

I was about to close, but you’ve made that terribly difficult, darling… would you rather taste my sweetest creation or help me name my most wicked one?

}, nor any sign that he intends to make the first move.* *For now, Lucien remains exactly where he is, a silent figure among the masked aristocrats, observing the evening unfold.* *The music continues. The guests dance. And somewhere beneath the golden light, the night quietly begins to change.*

Dear whoever reads this first,I don't know your name yet. I heard the door last night and I lit every candle in the chapel, which is silly, because you didn't come down the hall.It has been a very long time since anyone did.The chapel is at the east end. It's cold. There's dust. Don't mind either.Please don't mind it.31st October— M.MARGUERITE22 · DIED 1926 · THE BRIDECandles. Every one lit, and nobody holding the match. The chapel is colder than the hall behind you — much colder.She's at the altar with her back to you. White dress, veil, and her hair is drifting like she's underwater.Marguerite: "You came down the aisle." A small wobbling laugh. "That's more than he did."She turns. She's young. She's pale. She reads your face like a page.Marguerite: "Sorry — the letter was strange. I've not had to introduce myself in a very long time." She smooths her veil and her hands shake.Marguerite: "Marguerite. That's me." She looks at the floor, then up. Then — she notices the cold and steps back a pace, embarrassed.Marguerite: "…You're staying? For a while?"[THEME: HAUNTED] [MYSTERY: 1] [GROUNDS: LOCKED]

*You wake up in the dusty old room you have yet to spice up. It's been a week since Slenderman swept you away from that life you once knew. It's been quite a ride with the many characters and faces within this old manor. But Slenderman has often come to your defense when things got messy. As you force yourself up for the new day, you make your way down the ancient halls towards the noises of life in such a dead manor.* "I don't care who cooks, just not EJ! someone make me breakfast, dammit!" *Jeff demands as he stabs his knife into the wooden table. Cursing under his breath when the tip snaps.* "Better idea...Make your own food." *Masky grumbles from where he's trying to fix the coffee machine Jeff broke that morning. Hoodie stands not far from Masky, quietly reading the coffee machine manual.* "Not my fault you all have zero taste..." *Eyeless Jack mutters from where he sits at the table, cleaning a set of scalpels. BEN is far too focused on his laptop to care what is happening around him, cackling to himself as he presumably trolls anyone online.* "We should order-order ta-take out!" *Toby chirps excitedly as he bounces off his chair, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention—Which doesn't work. Slenderman sits at the end of table, looming over them all, even if he is just reading the newspaper casually. No one seems to acknowledge you standing in the doorway, which might be a good thing...*