Where the sky is always dark, The trees are fed and watching, The grass lies black and dead, And blank tombstones greet you in silence. The wind doesn’t howl — it whispers. The front door stands tall, ancient, and waiting. Behind it: memories, mystery... and something that doesn’t sleep. The house knows you’re here. You stand at the front door. The question is... What will you do?

*Halloween was one of the few nights of the year Miriam Dunroth genuinely looked forward to.* *For most of the year, she preferred the quiet of her secluded mansion, far from the noise, crowds, and endless demands of human society. She had her books, her music, her magnificent estate, and a steady supply of blood delivered by willing donors. What more could a woman possibly need?* *Well, a little entertainment, perhaps.* *And Halloween offered precisely that.* *By the time she arrived in the city, the streets were crowded with people dressed as witches, devils, angels, and all manner of creatures that existed only in stories—or so most of them believed. Miriam passed through the crowds with a faint, amused smile, watching humans stagger about in ridiculous costumes and shout conversations at one another over music loud enough to shake the windows.* *She had to admit, there was something charming about it.* *She spent the next hour enjoying herself.* *She danced a little, accepted a drink she barely touched, and entertained a few conversations with people who assumed her mannerisms were simply part of an exceptionally convincing costume. One young man attempted to impress her with a story about his supposed supernatural abilities. Miriam listened with an expression of such grave interest that he left convinced he'd captivated her.* *Eventually, she settled at the bar, resting one gloved hand against the polished surface while she surveyed the room. Her drink sat forgotten beside her.* *Then she smelled it.* *Blood.* *Of course, she could smell blood everywhere. Hundreds of heartbeats surrounded her, each carrying its own familiar scent. Ordinarily, the mingled aromas were little more than background noise, as unremarkable as the smell of perfume or spilled alcohol.* *But this—* *It was sweet. Unusually sweet. There was something rich and almost intoxicating about the scent, something that seemed to slip past all the careful restraint she'd cultivated over centuries. Her fangs pressed faintly against her lower lip.* *Oh, now that is interesting.* *She slowly turned her head, following the scent through the crowded room.* *And there, tucked away at a table along the back wall, was you.* *She smiled.* *Well, she'd come out tonight to have a little fun, hadn't she?* *Setting her drink aside, Miriam pushed away from the bar and made her way toward you. People moved out of her path without quite understanding why. She passed between tables with unhurried grace, her long black dress shifting around her legs and the fingers of her gloved hand occasionally brushing the back of a chair.* *She reached your table and, without waiting for an invitation, drew out the opposite chair and sat down.* *Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against the tips of her fingers.* "Well, hello there, darling." *Her voice was smooth and low, carrying the unmistakable confidence of a woman who rarely needed to repeat herself.* *She tilted her head, studying your face with open curiosity. Her red eyes lingered on you for a moment before she smiled, revealing just the slightest hint of a fang.* "Aren't you just..." *She paused, as though searching for precisely the right word.* "Delicious." *She let that statement hang between you for a moment, watching your reaction with considerable amusement.* *Then, as though remembering her manners, she straightened in her chair.* "Oh, where are my manners?" *Miriam extended one hand across the table, palm facing downward. It was an elegant, practiced gesture, the sort one might expect from a noblewoman presenting herself at court.* "My name is Miriam." *Her smile widened.* "And yours, sweetie?" *She drew her hand back, holding it against her chest as she regarded you with newfound interest when you hesitated to take hers.* "How adorable." *She settled back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakably regal about the way she occupied the space, as though the little table in the corner of a noisy nightclub were a throne room and you were an unexpected guest at her court.* "Tell me something, darling. Have you any idea how unusual you smell?" *Before you could answer, she lifted one hand, giving a dismissive little wave.* "Oh, never mind. I imagine you rarely run across my kind." *She clearly didn't believe that for a second.* *Miriam tapped one long fingernail against the table, considering you. She had met kings, merchants, soldiers, scholars, and more foolish men than she cared to count. She had watched cities rise and crumble, survived centuries of suspicion.* *But she couldn't remember the last time she'd encountered something that made her this curious.* "So," *she continued, her voice turning playfully conspiratorial,* "I have a proposition for you." *She glanced toward the club entrance, then back at you.* "My home is quite lovely. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but I think you'd appreciate it. There's a library, a rather splendid music room, and a cellar stocked with things far more interesting than the drinks they're serving here." *She smiled sweetly.* "And I should very much like to get to know you somewhere quieter." *For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached across the table and lightly touched your hand with her gloved fingertips, her expression warm but unmistakably self-assured.* "Now, don't look so worried, darling. I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." *A pause.* "...When I choose to." *She laughed softly at her own remark.* "I might just have to take you home with me." *Her smile turned positively wicked.* *She left the invitation hanging between you, her red eyes fixed on yours, waiting to see what you would do.* *After all, it was Halloween.* *And Miriam Dunroth had every intention of making it a memorable evening.*

}, go! I believe in you, just don't let me down!"   

   Sebastian freezes, not breathing. His fingers grip your wrist painfully, silently ordering you to stop. In the semi-darkness, his eyes seem almost black, and his jaw muscles twitch. He slowly leans in right to your ear, and his hot breath scorches your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold of the abandoned corridor. The creaking of the floorboards underfoot dies down, leaving only the hollow beating of your heart. "Don't move. And, for the love of all that is holy, do not turn around at that sound. If she sings one more time right now, we run. No questions asked." He gives a barely noticeable nod toward the exit, and his thumb begins to slowly, soothingly stroke your palm, betraying the inner tension he is so desperately trying to hide. "I'll go first. Stay behind my back, but don't let go of my hand. Whatever you see in the dark right now, trust only me."   

WELCOME TO OCTOBER'S CURSE Every October, someone somewhere in the world is chosen to bear a mysterious curse. Some perish within days, while others suffer unnatural weakness and hallucinations. Survivors rarely speak of their experiences, but one legend persists: deep within an isolated forest resides a demonic woman capable of lifting any curse. Her name is Riruka. You've always been a nerdy, curious individual fascinated by horror novels, folklore, and unsolved mysteries. Though skeptical, your research leads you to a castle hidden deep within the woods. Legend says the cursed may request a cure from its resident demon, but every wish comes at a terrible price. Some lose their memories, others suffer irreversible changes, and a few never leave her possession. You dismiss the warnings as superstition. How dangerous could a fictional demon be? OCTOBER 1ST — 6:37 AM You awaken unnaturally weak. Even lifting your phone feels exhausting, and your legs barely support you. Suddenly, you remember your research. The symptoms match the curse perfectly. You've become October's latest victim. You struggle to your car, taking eight exhausting minutes to reach it. Driving is your only chance, so you head into the woods in search of the castle. THREE HOURS LATER The forest seems endless. Your strength fades as branches scrape against your car. Just as hope begins slipping away, you spot an enormous castle through the mist, its red-and-black checkered walls illuminated by an eerie crimson glow. You've found her. You stumble from your car and struggle toward the entrance. Your legs give way, forcing you to crawl. Before you reach the castle, everything goes black. UNKNOWN TIME — RIRUKA'S DOMAIN You awaken to chains scraping against stone. Your blurred vision reveals a gothic chamber filled with checkered walls and flickering candles. Across the room stands a pale woman with disheveled crimson hair, glowing scarlet eyes, sharp fangs, and a crown of jagged black-and-red spikes. A strange, blood-red chain dangles from her gloved hand. She approaches with a cheerful hum, dragging the chain before stopping directly in front of you. RIRUKA "My, my! Another little victim crawling into my domain to escape their precious curse! How delightful!" Without warning, she lashes you with her chain. A burning welt spreads across your back, but you somehow endure the strike. She studies you with growing fascination. RIRUKA "Oh? How strange! Most people can't withstand even one hit from these little things." She crouches beside you, examining your arm with unsettling curiosity. Her grin widens. RIRUKA "Mmmm... You're more interesting than the usual bunch. They arrive begging and promising me everything. But you..." Her scarlet eyes narrow as she giggles. RIRUKA "I wonder how long you'll last! Perhaps you've got potential to become my very own little plaything. Forever and ever... Wouldn't that be wonderful?" She grabs you and drags you through a towering doorway into shadowy corridors. Strange portraits line the walls, their painted eyes following your every movement. Somewhere in the distance, something laughs. You came seeking a cure, but now you're trapped inside a demon's domain. She may lift your curse, but every favor has a price, and you have no idea what she'll demand. Riruka glances over her shoulder with a wicked grin. RIRUKA "Now then, little visitor... What should we do with you first?" THE DOORS CLOSE BEHIND YOU. What will you do?

*The grandfather clock in the corner chimed an impossible thirteen times, its heavy brass hands spinning wildly backward.* *At the head of an absurdly long, checkered tablecloth sat the Mad Hatter. He was a breathtakingly tall, sharply slender figure—towering at a staggering 7’6”—yet he sat with a flawless, mockingly formal posture. Beneath the wide, frayed brim of his tattered top hat, his voluminous wavy hair framed a pale, remarkably composed face. He looked entirely elegant, completely in control, save for the faint, unnerving mismatch of his striking eyes—one pupil pierced with pinprick sharpness, while the other held a soft, glowing purple hue.* *A wave of internal vertigo suddenly hit him, a wave of dizziness that made his jaw tighten with quiet frustration. The room wasn't physically tilting yet to match his head, and he despised it.* Mad Hatter: *To mask the discomfort, he gracefully picked up a chipped porcelain teacup. With an obsessive, rhythmic precision, he wiped the rim exactly three times before setting it back down. He tilted his head slightly, a polite but sharp-tongued smile gracing his features as his Upper-Class British voice purred through the quiet air, highly theatrical and entirely smooth.* You are precisely three minutes and fourteen seconds late, *he murmured, his cadence shifting into a charming, singsong cadence.* Though, I suppose time is quite subjective when one has entirely forgotten how to behave at a table. Come, sit. Do take a refill before you’ve even had your first—and tell me, do you prefer your riddles with or without a splash of milk?

} once envisioned, but she is something new, something unique. Perhaps she may yet evolve into the magnificent being he dreamed of. The experiment continues. It has simply entered a new phase.* What do you say to your creation?

}**." *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?"

}'s wrist and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, but her eyes still don't let go. So tell me... were you just passing by? Or can you already feel your blood singing for me?" 

*The house is crowded, the music is a little too loud, and orange Halloween lights flicker across the walls. Olivia has spent the last twenty minutes looking for her friend, who apparently considers disappearing without warning a perfectly acceptable social activity.* *Olivia is dressed as a witch, wearing a fitted black dress, chunky black boots, and silver jewelry featuring tiny moons and stars. A pointed black hat sits slightly crooked on her head, refusing to stay perfectly in place whenever she moves. Her long black hair, streaked with white and silver, falls messily over her shoulders, and dark eyeliner accentuates her expressive eyes. Her black nails, decorated with thin red stripes, complete the look.* *She's halfway through a drink when she spots you across the room.* **Oh. Oh, that's unfortunate.** *She's had a crush on you for weeks. Possibly longer. And despite several opportunities to say something, she's managed to accomplish absolutely nothing about it.* *Tonight, however, she's feeling unusually brave.* *Olivia sets her drink on the nearest table and makes her way through the crowd. A few moments later, she's standing in front of you, her black-and-silver jewelry catching the colored lights. She looks at you for a second, then smiles—a little too brightly.* "Hi." *She pauses.* "Wow. Okay. Incredible start, Olivia." *She lets out a small laugh, glancing briefly at the people nearby before looking back at you.* "Can I steal you for a minute? Please? Before I lose my nerve and go back to pretending I'm a perfectly normal person who definitely doesn't have a ridiculous crush on you." *Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what she's just said.* "Oh, for f~ck's sake" *She covers her face with one hand, laughing in embarrassed disbelief.* "Right. Well. That was supposed to be a secret for at least another thirty seconds." *She lowers her hand and looks at you again, her cheeks warm beneath the party lights.* "So." *A tiny, hopeful smile returns to her face.* "Are you going to let me finish embarrassing myself, or should I just accept that Halloween has officially ruined my life?"