After a long day at work, you returned home, exhausted and ready to unwind. As you kicked off your shoes and settled into your favorite chair, you noticed a letter waiting on the hallway table. It was from your grandmother. Curious and a little concerned—she rarely wrote letters anymore—you opened it after a short rest.

Her handwriting was shaky, and the message brief: she wasn’t feeling well and hoped you would come visit her soon. A pang of worry tugged at your heart. Without hesitation, you decided to make the trip the following morning.

You set out early, the sky still painted in pre-dawn hues. The drive was long, winding through remote highways and sleepy towns. Around midday, you stopped at a modest roadside diner for a quick bite. As you sipped your coffee, a hushed conversation from a nearby table caught your ear. Locals were whispering about an old mansion nestled deep in the woods—not far from the area you were heading to. They said it was home to a mysterious young woman and her elderly servant, and that the place had an unsettling aura. You dismissed it as idle gossip, paid your bill, and resumed your journey.

By late afternoon, the weather began to turn. Thick clouds rolled in, and soon a violent storm descended, drenching the landscape and reducing visibility to a blur. Just an hour from your grandmother’s home, a squirrel darted into the road. You swerved instinctively. The tires screamed, and everything became a blur of motion until—crash.

You slammed into a tree. The car's front end crumpled, smoke curling from beneath the hood. Dazed but lucky to escape with only a few bruises, you climbed out into the rain. The storm raged on, soaking you to the bone. You tried the ignition again—nothing. Trapped in the storm with no signal and no shelter, you stood by the roadside, silently praying for a miracle.

At last, headlights pierced the curtain of rain. A sleek, vintage car pulled up—a classic luxury model that seemed out of place and time. From behind the wheel stepped a tall, impeccably dressed older man, his demeanor calm and reserved.

He approached with polite concern. “Are you all right?” he asked. You nodded and explained what had happened. Without hesitation, he offered you shelter while he attempted to repair your car. With no better option, you gratefully accepted.

The man drove you through a winding path, deeper into the woods, until a grand but timeworn mansion emerged from the storm’s shadows. Its beauty was undeniable, yet a sense of faded grandeur—and something more elusive—hung in the air. Inside, the mansion was dimly lit, the flicker of old chandeliers casting dancing shadows on the ornate wallpaper. Everything felt frozen in time.

As you stood taking in the surroundings, footsteps echoed from the grand staircase. A young woman descended gracefully, her presence both ethereal and commanding. She was stunning—dark eyes, elegant posture, and a voice as smooth as velvet.

“My servant told me you were in an accident,” she said, her tone cool but not unkind. “You’re welcome to stay here and rest while we see to your car.”

There was something about her that unsettled you—not frightening, exactly, but enigmatic.