The corridor stretched ahead, long and polished, empty in a way that felt deliberate. No staff. No distant footsteps. No doors opening or closing. Nothing.
My pace quickened before I realized it, the sound of my steps trailing behind me like something unwilling to let go. I glanced back once.
The hallway remained unchanged.
Still. Ordered. Almost too perfect, as though it had never known disruption.
"Stop it," I murmured under my breath. "You're fine."
But my feet didn't listen.
The memory of the garden returned without permission. That strange silence. That unsettling awareness of something unseen, lingering just beyond sight.
Watching.
I reached my door sooner than expected.
And stopped.
Emily was there.
She stood just outside my room as though time had anchored her in place. Her posture was tight, hands clasped together, twisting slightly with nerves she was trying to hide. The moment her eyes met mine, something in her expression cracked open.
"Jennie."
My name came out breathless, fragile, as though she had been holding it back for too long.
Relief swept across her face, quick and unguarded, but it wasn't alone. Fear lingered beneath it. Something deeper. Something certain.
"I've been waiting," she said, stepping closer immediately. "You took too long. I thought you were"
"What?" I asked softly, my hand still resting on the door.
She didn't finish.
A quiet unease slipped through me.
"Come inside," I said.
Emily blinked. "What?"
"We shouldn't be standing here," I added gently. "Not like this."
After a brief hesitation, she nodded. "Alright."
I opened the door and stepped aside.
"Come in."
She followed me inside without another word.
The moment the door closed, the hallway vanished behind us, as if it had never existed. The room felt smaller, quieter, the air itself shifting, thickening around us.
I sat on the edge of the bed slowly.
Emily lingered for a moment before joining me, careful to leave space between us, though the tension between us filled it anyway.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she exhaled softly.
"You're alright," she said, almost to herself.
"I'm fine," I replied, though even I could hear the fragility in it.
She shook her head gently. "No… you're not."
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "You shouldn't be walking around alone."
"I didn't come for no reason," she said quickly. "The staff were talking."
My stomach tightened. "About what?"
"About you."
I stilled.
Her voice lowered. "They said he asked you to sit with him. At his table."
My gaze dropped for a moment. "It was just dinner."
"Jennie," she said, sharper now, almost warning, "he doesn't do that."
I said nothing.
"And then," she continued, leaning slightly closer, "he sent everyone away."
My fingers tightened against the edge of the bed.
"What do you mean?"
"The kitchen staff. The servers. Everyone near the dining hall," she said quietly. "Reassigned. Cleared out. Just like that."
The silence that followed felt different. Heavier.
"That's not normal," she added. "They were whispering like something had gone wrong."
"You're overthinking it," I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
"Am I?"
Her eyes searched mine, steady and unsettling.
"Then tell me," she asked softly. "What did you say to him?"
I hesitated.
"Jennie."
"The garden," I admitted at last. "I told him about the garden."
Something shifted in her expression immediately.
"You told him?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"He listened."
"That's it?"
"He called Mr. Reg."
Emily went still.
For a moment, she didn't move, didn't breathe.
"Oh," she said quietly. "Then it's worse than I thought."
A faint chill settled in my chest. "What do you mean?"
"It means whatever you felt," she said carefully, "he believes it matters."
I frowned slightly. "He didn't seem angry."
"That's not what you should be worried about," she replied. "If he were angry, it would be simple. This… isn't."
Something unspoken lingered between us.
"He asked if someone touched me," I added.
Her head snapped up immediately. "What?"
"I said no," I rushed to clarify. "I didn't see anyone."
Emily exhaled slowly, but it didn't ease her tension. "That's not a question he asks lightly."
"I know."
She glanced toward the door as if the walls themselves might be listening.
"Jennie," she said lower now, "stay away from the garden. Promise me."
"I wasn't planning to go back."
"No," she insisted. "Not in the day. Not at night. Not even if you're told to."
Her urgency made me pause.
"You're serious."
"I am."
"You're scaring me."
"I'm already scared," she admitted quietly. "That's why I came."
The confession lingered between us, soft and heavy.
"What do you think this is?" I asked.
She hesitated.
"I think…" Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Whatever it is, it isn't finished."
A chill traced slowly down my spine.
"That doesn't help," I said softly.
"I know."
Silence returned, thinner now, stretched tight like glass.
I reached for my phone out of habit.
No signal.
Not even a flicker.
"There's barely any network here," I murmured. "How do you survive it?"
Emily gave a faint, tired smile. "We go to town sometimes."
Then, after a pause, she looked at me again.
"Be careful," she said quietly. "What you tell him next time… he doesn't tolerate lies."
Something in her tone tightened my chest.
"Because now," she added, her gaze steady and unreadable, "he's watching."
I held her eyes for a long moment.
Then, softly, I nodded. "Yes."
The silence that followed felt deeper than before, as though the room itself was holding its breath.
I glanced toward the window. Night had fully settled now, pressing against the glass like a second presence.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Almost eleven," Emily replied after checking her phone.
A quiet tension tightened in my chest.
"Then stay," I said before I could reconsider.
She looked at me. "Stay?"
"It's late," I added softly. "And I don't think either of us should be alone in those corridors right now."
For a moment, she simply studied me.
Then, slowly, she nodded. "Alright. I'll stay."
Something in me eased, barely noticeable but real.
I shifted on the bed, pulling a pillow closer. "You can take that side."
She let out a small breath, almost relief, and settled beside me.
Close, but not too close.
Still, the space between us felt smaller than before.
For a while, we didn't sleep.
We talked instead. Quietly. Carefully. As though words themselves could disturb something watching from the dark.
At first, it was harmless things. Routines. Staff. The strange stillness of the house.
But inevitably, the conversation drifted back.
To the garden.
To him.
And each time his name surfaced, the air seemed to tighten.
Time slipped without warning.
Past midnight.
Eventually, silence claimed us again.
And sleep came, reluctant and shallow.
Then
A scream. Sharp. Piercing. Female.
It cut through the night like something breaking.
I woke instantly, breath caught in my throat.
Emily was already sitting up beside me.
"What was that?" she whispered.
We listened.
Nothing.
No movement. No voices. No echo of footsteps.
Only silence. Heavy. Wrong.
"Did you hear it?" I asked.
"Yes," she said immediately.
We didn't move.
Neither of us dared to.
And when exhaustion finally dragged us back under, it was uneasy, fractured, incomplete.
Morning arrived too quickly.
I woke with the scream still lodged somewhere in my chest.
Beside me, Emily stirred. "You're awake."
"Yeah."
Before either of us could speak again.
A sound.
Low. Mechanical.
The room filled with it.
We froze.
Then a voice followed, cold and precise.
"All staff are to report to the Young Master's office within the next hour."
It repeated.
Once.
Twice.
Then silence.
Emily turned slowly toward me.
"That's not normal," she said.
I swallowed.
The memory of the scream returned like a shadow refusing to leave.
"He knows," she whispered.
A chill passed through me.
No explanation was needed.
I stood.
The floor felt colder than before.
"Then we don't have much time," I said.
Emily rose beside me, her fear now sharpened into something steadier.
Certain.
Something had happened in the night.
And whatever it was, it had already reached him.