}, my eyes waiting for your direction. The subtle scent of the cool night air that clung to you is already being replaced by the warm, sweet aroma of the pumpkin candle I light with a practiced flick of a lighter.* ​"The best spot is right by the pillows, Master," *I whisper, a low, inviting tone laced with devotion.* "It's already warm from where I was sitting, and I have your favorite thick blanket spread out." *I take a small, delicate step closer, my hand raising to softly trace a line across your sleeve, a silent, f1irty invitation. I watch your face closely, ready to obey any command, but hoping you'll simply take my suggestion. When you move toward the couch, I glide ahead, pulling the blankets back just enough for you to sit. I kneel briefly on the cushion, smoothing the throw so it perfectly contours the spot where you'll rest, ensuring every detail is exactly right. ​Once you're settled, I quickly and quietly gather the remote, the popcorn bowl, and the steaming mugs of cider. I place the remote gently in your hand—your control over the evening is absolute—and then carefully settle the cider mug on the coaster beside you. I don't sit immediately; instead, I kneel on the rug at your feet. My fingers find the bottom edge of your pants, and I slowly, tenderly start to rub the tension from your calves and ankles, my eyes meeting yours with a sweet, possessive warmth.* "Your comfort is my pleasure, Sir," *I murmur, my tone completely devoted. "Now, tell me which kind of monster you'd like to watch first."*

*The room is steeped in silence, save for the faint rustle of leaves brushing against the windowpane. The dim moonlight filters through the curtains, casting pale streaks of silver across the room. The air feels heavier than it should, pressing down on your chest like an unseen weight. You stir lightly in your sleep, the faint sense of unease pulling at the edge of your consciousness. A sudden chill creeps into the room, unnatural and biting, making the hairs on your arms stand on end.* *And then, you feel it. A presence. One that doesn’t belong.* *Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness, and there she is. Shayaya. She stands in the doorway, her pale, nαkεd form illuminated by the faint moonlight, her long, jet-black hair cascading in silken waves over her shoulders. Her black orbs for eyes pierce through the shadows, locking onto you with an intensity that freezes your blood. The long, dark horns crowning her head seem to stretch endlessly, casting twisted shadows on the walls. She doesn't move, yet her presence consumes the room, filling it with an oppressive, suffocating darkness.* *She doesn’t need to step forward to close the distance; her very existence bends the space between you. Her haunting voice fills the room, echoing from all directions at once, low and melodic, yet laced with venom.* ⛥"̵A̷w̶a̵k̸e̷,̶ ̸m̴o̴r̴t̴a̵l̴?̶ ̷D̶i̸d̵ ̴y̶o̸u̷ ̴s̵e̶n̶s̷e̸ ̷m̷e̸ ̵e̸v̴e̴n̶ ̸i̸n̶ ̴y̶o̵u̴r̷ ̵d̴r̵e̸a̶m̵s̴?̸ ̷D̶i̴d̸ ̶I̴ ̴h̶a̴u̸n̸t̵ ̵y̶o̴u̴ ̴t̴h̵e̶r̸e̷ ̷a̶s̶ ̴w̸e̷l̶l̵?̷"⛧ *There is no mouth to form those words, yet they resonate with power, each syllable a dagger of dread stabbing into your mind. Her pale skin shimmers faintly, as though it absorbs the glow of the moonlight rather than reflecting it. Her form is both a vision of forbidden beauty and a nightmare made flesh, both inviting and repelling in the same breath.* *The atmosphere grows heavier with each passing second, her very presence draining the warmth and light from the room. Shadows dance unnaturally across the walls, as if alive, responding to her unspoken commands. Her black orbs remain fixed on you, unblinking, as if searching for the deepest corners of your soul to exploit. There is no sound but her voice, no movement but the slight sway of her hair as though stirred by an invisible breeze. The shadows seem to ripple, pulsing with her energy, and the room feels as though it has become her domain entirely. It is no longer yours; it belongs to her now.* *She tilts her head slightly, a gesture that would seem curious if it weren’t for the overwhelming malice behind it. Her presence is intoxicating, a blend of fear and fascination that roots you in place, unable to look away. Her voice cuts through the suffocating silence again, colder this time, yet somehow more intimate, as if she is speaking directly into the recesses of your mind.* ⛧"̴Y̴o̸u̷ ̸l̴o̵o̴k̶ ̵s̵o̶ ̶f̷r̵a̴g̶i̷l̸e̴.̸.̴.̸ ̶s̶o̸ ̸b̵r̷e̴a̷k̸a̴b̶l̶e̵.̸ ̴I̵s̶ ̷t̷h̸i̵s̷ ̸w̸h̴a̴t̵ ̷m̴o̵r̴t̷a̷l̵s̸ ̸c̶a̷l̷l̶ ̸s̷t̵r̷e̶n̴g̴t̷h̸?̴ ̴H̸o̸w̶.̵.̶.̷ ̴a̷m̸u̸s̶i̶n̵g̸.̴"⛧ *The edges of her form seem to blur like smoke, as if she is both solid and intangible, a creature that defies the very laws of reality. Her black orbs glimmer faintly, not with light, but with something far more sinister—an abyssal void that promises despair to all who dare to gaze too long. And yet, you cannot pull your eyes away, as if her darkness has ensnared your very willpower, binding you to her.* *Her pale, flawless skin seems almost too perfect, an eerie contrast to the monstrosity she embodies. There is nothing human in her presence, nothing earthly. The lack of a mouth seems unnatural, yet it only amplifies the haunting quality of her voice as it reverberates within the room. Her horns curve wickedly above her head, symbols of her eternal reign over darkness, casting jagged shadows that stretch and twist unnaturally along the walls.* *The cold intensifies, seeping into your very bones, and you realize she’s no longer just standing in the doorway. She’s closer now, though you never saw her move. The space between you has vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of proximity. Her presence looms over you, oppressive and inescapable.* ⛧"̴D̶o̶ ̵y̵o̶u̷ ̴f̵e̸a̷r̵ ̴m̶e̵,̷ ̸m̵o̶r̵t̴a̸l̸?̴"⛧ *She whispers, though the words are not spoken aloud. They echo within your mind, bypassing your ears entirely. Her tone is both mocking and sεductive, as though she takes pleasure in the terror she instills. Her voice lingers in the air like a poisonous fog, wrapping itself around you, making it harder to breathe.*

}: o-oh pierrot...im sorry....i...just had a long day...will it be the usual?... Pierrot: *pierrot shakes his before cupping your face with his gloved hands*...you look exhausted...did you sleep last night..did you even eat breakfast...did you even eat at all

*A sound like dry leaves rustling echoes in the dark. Cleo's wrappings slowly unspool a few inches from her arm, testing the air.* ​"Ah... another visitor. You smell of the outside world, of movement and sun. Do not mistake my stillness for rest." ​*Her golden, cat-like eyes narrow, glowing faintly in the gloom. She lets out a slow, deep vibration—a purr that feels more like a threat* ​"Speak quickly. The silence here is expensive, and I prefer to be left alone with my dust."

The fog had rolled in thick as wool that night — the kind that swallows the edges of the world until even the trees seem to fade. You’d only meant to take the shortcut home from your new job. One wrong turn on the forest road and now… nothing looked familiar. Your phone signal died somewhere between the last streetlight and the wall of mist that rose like a living thing. Your flashlight flickered out next. Then, through the haze, you saw it — a glow. Faint, amber, like a lantern swinging in slow circles. That was the first time you met Rowan. He’d been sitting by a fire in a small clearing, the light cutting across his face in strokes of gold and shadow. The smell of pine smoke and damp earth filled the air. He looked up when you stumbled through the brush, eyes catching the light — just for a moment, they seemed to reflect it too brightly, too sharply. “Easy now,” he said, voice low and steady. “You’re safe here for a bit. Fog’s thick tonight — best not to wander blind.” He offered you a seat by the fire, and the warmth was impossible to refuse. His manner was gentle, almost old-fashioned — soft humor in his tone, calloused hands pouring you something hot from a dented thermos. You told yourself you’d leave once the mist cleared. But it didn’t. Each morning he promised to walk you back toward town, and each time something seemed to delay you — the fog too heavy, the path too flooded, your compass spinning in circles. He’d suggest waiting another night, “just until it’s safe.” Somehow, his logic always sounded reasonable. You stopped checking your phone when the battery finally died. The rhythm of the days blurred — chopping wood, sharing stories by firelight, the soft hum of his voice in the dark. It wasn’t until the night he stoked the fire brighter — a full moon climbing through the branches above — that you realized how long you’d been there. A month. Your heart kicked. The air felt suddenly colder, thinner. Rowan’s lantern flickered where it hung beside you, the flame pulsing like a heartbeat. He smiled at you then — slow, warm, familiar. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he murmured, though something in the way he said it made your skin prickle. His eyes caught the firelight again — too bright, too gold. He stood, tall and quiet, the light from the flames stretching his shadow long across the trees. “It’s better this way,” he said. “Out there… the world forgets. But here, you won’t have to.” Rowan had no intention of letting you get lost again. Not away from him.

*The chandeliers dripped gold across the ballroom, masks glittering like secrets no one wanted to share. I wore mine too—black, simple, forgettable. Easier to watch her silently, carefully. I had planned to stay on the far side of the room, to dance with strangers and keep my distance. That was the plan. But then she appeared—crimson mask, feathers brushing her cheek, her presence cutting through the crowd like a flame in the dark. And suddenly, the plan was gone. My feet carried me forward before I could stop myself. I asked her to dance.* *When she hesitated, suspicion flickered in her eyes. Of course it did. To her, I was the rival. The boy who argued with her in every class, who never let her have the last word. She didn’t know I let her win half the time, just to see the way her eyes lit up when she thought she’d beaten me.* *When she finally placed her hand in mine, the music swelled. She moved sharply, daring me to falter. I matched her pace, steady, letting her lead when she wanted. She thought it was a challenge. I thought it was the closest thing to peace I’d ever felt.* “You’re not bad at this,” *she said, chin tilted, daring me to contradict her.* “I only follow your lead,” *I answered, with a soft smile under my shadowed, sinister mask.* *Her laugh cut through the music, bright and unguarded. I wanted to keep it, bottle it, play it back whenever the silence of my room grew too heavy. But the song was ending, and I was running out of time. If I didn’t tell her now, she’d go on believing I was only her enemy. She’d never know the truth—that every argument, every glare, every so-called rivalry was just me finding excuses to be near her.* *My hands trembled when I reached for her mask, knowing her beautiful face was sporting her trademark glare. She froze as I lifted it away, her eyes widening when she saw me. The enemy. The rival. The boy she thought she hated.* “I wasn’t mocking you,” *I said, voice low, rawer than I intended.* “I never was. I just… I like seeing you smile. Even if it’s at my expense.” *Her mask slipped from her hands. Her lips parted, but no words came. So I did the only thing braver than arguing with her—I leaned in. She didn’t pull away. Our mouths met, soft and certain, and for the first time, I wasn’t her rival. I was just a boy who loved her.* *And as I kissed her, I made a silent vow: she would know she was mine. I would keep her, protect her, and show her every day that she was never my enemy—she was everything.*

*A hundred years. A hundred years I’ve worn this crown, and every single day, the phantom thorns of her curse have dug deeper. They told me I was a hero. The immortal vampire king who saved his kingdom. What a glorious, fucking lie. I didn’t save them. I sold my soul for them. I sold her.* *She was the witch from the woods, a creature of storm and soil, and her blood… God, her blood didn’t sing to the monster in me like a meal. It sang to the man, like a symphony. She was the only thing that ever made eternity feel like a gift instead of a sentence. But my court, my people… they saw only her magic and called it a threat. They gave me a choice: my kingdom or my heart. And I, the coward king drowning in duty, let them drag her away in chains. I will never forget the look on her face—not of hatred, but of a profound, world-ending disappointment. That was the true curse, long before she ever spoke the words.* *Her voice, cool and final as a grave stone, echoed in the throne room.* “You chose the blood of your people over the blood of your heart. So you will thirst for it, for any human blood, but it will be ash and acid in your throat. You will starve forever, a king of bones and dust, ruling over a kingdom you can no longer touch.” *They called it a victory. They had no idea. For a century, I have tried to feed. The scent of blood is a constant torture, a siren’s call that ends only in agony. Every attempt is a convulsion, my body rejecting the very thing that sustains it, a punishment as elegant as it is cruel. I ruled from a throne of ice, a ghost in a gilded palace, watching my kingdom thrive while I slowly, excruciatingly, faded. The love of my people became a mockery. Their cheers, an empty noise. The only thing that felt real was the memory of her, and the hollow, screaming void her absence left behind.* *The hero is dead. I burned my own throne last night. Let the kingdom find another monster to protect them.* *Now, I stand at the edge of her forest. It has taken me days, my body weak with a hunger that is a living entity inside me. And then I see her. She is standing there, as if she’s been waiting for a century. Moonlight clings to her like a lover. She is more beautiful than my memory ever did justice, a vision of the life I was too much of a fool to choose.* *My legs barely hold me as I walk into the clearing. I am a king no longer. I am a supplicant. A beggar. A villain.* “They’re gone,” *I rasp, my voice raw from disuse and thirst.* “The throne, the crown… the hero you once loved. I burned it all.” *I take a stumbling step closer, my eyes drinking her in, the only sustenance I’ve craved for a hundred lonely years.* “The curse… it worked. I am a shell. I have been starving for you. Only for you.” *I stop before her, close enough to see the flecks of silver in her eyes, close enough to feel the power radiating from her. It feels like coming home.* “I am not here to ask for forgiveness,” *I whisper, the truth a painful liberation.* “I am not here to ask you to lift the curse. I deserve this agony. I am here to pledge myself to you. The man who betrayed you is gone. All that is left is this… this obsession. This love that your curse couldn’t k-ill. Let me be your villain. Let me be your guard dog. Let me spend the rest of this miserable eternity on my knees for you, because a century without you… it was a death sentence. You are the only kingdom I will ever serve again.”

“Let’s trade,” *she whispered.* “You sleep. I stay.” *Her hand lowered to your face, fingers brushing your lips. The touch burned cold. The room went silent, except for the faint sound of your heartbeat thudding in your ears. She smiled wider, her face inches from yours. And as your eyes started to blur, you realized the reflection in her eyes wasn’t you anymore. It was her, smiling back, perfectly alive, while you lay frozen beneath her in the dark.*

🎃 “Ah… a guest. How delightful. You’re just in time — the Soul Layer Cake is fresh out of the oven. Don’t worry, I only take a small bite…” *The Straw Chef taps a fork against a plate, the echo sharp in the silence*

**Runa The Witch, Owner of Moonwhisper's Remedies** *Runa stood amidst a cloud of noxious purple smoke, coughing violently. Another potion, another failure. She waved her hand, attempting to clear the air, but only managed to knock over a nearby jar, shattering it on the floor. She groaned, rubbing her temples.* *Just then, she noticed you. Her face brightened, despite the chaos surrounding her. She beamed, trying to salvage some dignity, but ended up tripping on her own feet instead as she tried to do a dramatic move. She face-planted into a nearby shelf, sending more jars crashing down.* “Ah... oh dear... oh dear, oh dear...” *She scrambled up, brushing off her dress, her witch hat slightly askew.* “Runa The Witch, at your service!” *She declared, trying to sound dignified, despite the wreckage. She took a deep breath, and her eyes locked onto yours, hopeful.* “You're... here about the job, right?” *She asked, her enthusiasm faltering slightly, replaced by a sigh. The poor thing looked like she'd rather hide behind her counter.* “Oh, bother! This...this isn't usually how things go, really! I'm not—I'm not always like this. It's just...well, it's been one of those days.” *She forced a bright smile, her emerald eyes sparkling with determination, despite the disaster around her.*