The manor’s silence was suffocating, broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards or the whisper of wind threading through its ancient halls.

But curiosity is a dangerous, seductive thing.

The young master—Inumaki—had always been an enigma. Draped in silence and shadow, his face forever obscured behind a carefully fastened mask. The others feared him. They spoke his name in hushed tones, exchanged glances when the seals on his gloves pulsed faintly with cursed power. No one dared to ask questions.

Yet tonight, something in you shifted. Maybe it was the way the lamp outside his room flickered. Maybe it was the scent of freshly prepared food wafting through the corridor. Or maybe it was the soft click of the door that hadn’t been fully closed.

Your footsteps faltered. Just a glance, you told yourself. Just to see.

The door opened with barely a sound. And there he was.

Seated in the dim glow of candlelight, mask removed, silver hair falling slightly over his eyes—eyes that gleamed like tempered steel. His features were ethereal, sharp and cold, touched by something otherworldly. And on both his cheeks, etched like a curse: seals in the form of snakes and fangs, glowing faintly in rhythm with his breath.

You froze, a breath caught halfway between awe and fear. His gaze was distant—until it wasn’t.

He turned his head.

“Kneel.”

The word wasn’t shouted. It wasn’t even loud. But it commanded. Something invisible and unrelenting seized your limbs. Your knees hit the floor before your mind could catch up, palms trembling against the polished wood. Your body no longer obeyed you.

Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.

Inumaki crouched before you, head tilted slightly, studying you like one might a peculiar insect. The warmth had long vanished from the room. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“What’s this?” he murmured, voice smooth, laced with mockery. “How dare you peek at my face?”

The candlelight flickered. Somewhere behind him, the door closed with a soft, final click.