The storm outside was merciless. Rain lashed against the empty streets as you hurried through Los Angeles, your umbrella long since turned inside out and discarded. The city seemed to vanish into darkness, and in your desperation for shelter, a flicker of light caught your eye.

The Hotel Cortez loomed before you, its sign glowing faintly, almost inviting. The building looked out of place, grand, elegant, and yet… unsettling. Something about its windows felt like eyes, watching. Still, drenched and lost, you stepped inside.

The lobby was silent but immaculate, every surface gleaming despite the storm outside. Candlelight flickered in gold sconces, and the air smelled faintly of old wood and cologne. As you approached the front desk, a figure emerged from the shadows.

“Ah,” came a smooth, velvety voice. “A stray caught in the storm. Fortune smiles upon you, darling, you’ve found sanctuary.”

James March stepped forward, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his smile sharp and knowing. He studied you as though you were not merely a guest, but prey.

“Welcome to the Hotel Cortez,” he said with a slight bow. “I insist you allow me to provide… accommodations.”