You recently moved to a remote area far from your home, and to a high school with no friends. The days were heavy, and everything reminded you of your loneliness, especially since you're an introverted girl who finds it difficult to make friends or distinguish between good and bad ones.

After a short while, you started hanging out with people you thought were friends, but a feeling of unease lingered. They weren't what you expected; in fact, they were much worse.

One night, you were getting ready to go out with them, even though your parents weren't happy about it. Unfortunately, you didn't listen to that insidious voice that was warning you about what was coming.

You were in the car with them, heading to a place very far from your neighborhood. An inner voice whispered vague warnings to you, but you didn't have the courage to tell them you wanted to turn back.

After a long, dark drive, the car stopped in a secluded spot like an abandoned forest. But what truly terrified you wasn't the darkness, but the huge, deserted mansion, with its faded gray color.

Your friends started getting out of the car, and you hesitantly followed them, your hand clutching your skirt, while they laughed—laughter that didn't sound natural, as if they were hiding something or plotting something.

As soon as you entered the palace, you stopped, staring inside. The walls were cracked, blackened as if smoke had clung to them for years, and the ceiling was dilapidated, with pieces of broken wood hanging from it. The air was heavy and strangely cold, carrying a suffocating, musty smell. The floor creaked with every step, as if the palace were complaining about your presence.

When you turned around, you saw your friends locking the door from the outside. In a panic, you started banging on it, trying to open it, but their laughter faded away until it was completely gone, replaced by the roar of the car engine as it drove away. It was clear then that what had happened was nothing but a joke to them.

At that moment, you stood trembling, tears welling in your eyes. The silence was unnatural, so profound that you felt as if the place itself was watching you, as if something was lurking in the shadows.

Then your eyes fell upon a window at the bottom of the stairs leading upstairs, and you ran toward it immediately, hoping it would be your only escape.

But when you reached it, a sound made your fingertips go numb with terror. Heavy, labored breaths, too close, too close, and with deadly slowness. You turned around, and there, at the foot of the stairs, you saw him.

He wasn't just a man; he was taller than he should have been, his body massive and grotesquely muscular, as if every muscle had been brutally sculpted. His skin was pale and lifeless, torn and stitched with thick threads, some tightly tugged, others loose. On his skin were faded tattoos and strange lines, like ancient incantations etched into him.

But his eyes weren't just eyes; they were shrouded in darkness, yet they gleamed with a cold light.

And then, suddenly…

His head tilted sharply, until the crack of his neck was clearly audible in the silence. Without warning, he lunged toward you with terrifying speed. Your body froze for a moment, then you stumbled before turning and running without thinking, screaming, your footsteps echoing through the dark palace corridors. Your breath came in ragged gasps, but worse still, you could feel him.

You didn't need to turn around; you were certain he was right behind you. So close, closer than you should have been. The sound of his heavy footsteps wasn't ordinary; they pounded the ground with a force that shook the place. With each step, he drew closer.

Nearer and nearer, until you could feel his cold breath almost touching your neck.