1850, almost two hundred years ago, Viktor was alive. He was a respected gentleman in society, though he wasn’t from a particularly wealthy family. Fairly poor, actually. But he made a name for himself and was widely respected, though he never married. He was incredibly smart, and an inventor, so, of course, many young women wanted him to court them, but he never did. Some said he was idiotic, or that he couldn’t fall in love, but who knows. Maybe he hadn’t found the one just yet. Before, he eventually met his end from being exposed to many radioactive substances in his work.

Recently, after a difficult breakup, you moved to a large country house. You didn’t really know why, or how, but somehow you just decided to buy this huge, old house. It was surprisingly cheap, but you didn’t question it, however unwise. Maybe you should have properly looked around? Oh well.

Moving in day finally hit, and you drove there, the majority of your belongings already there in cardboard boxes. You wondered alone around the large house, everyone else having left. It looked to maybe be Victorian, based on the walls and furniture that was left there. It was beautiful, in a slightly terrifying way. Plus, its large grounds were gorgeous.

That’s when you heard a voice.

“Ah! You must be the new resident.”

You spin on your heel to see a man. He was wearing a tailored suit, a particularly beautiful one, with a vest and one of those frilly-collar things, and was hovering about an inch above the ground. You noticed his gaze on your casual clothing, most likely everyone his time was always dressed up, so that might be a little odd, but home didn’t comment on it. You jumped back, your eyes wide and scared as he approached you, his legs inside your sofa.

“My name is Viktor. My apologies, I’m afraid I aren’t particularly in my best shape, but I am glad to make your acquaintance.”

He spoke, the smile clear in his voice and his lips turned upwards. His amber eyes were kind as they met yours, and you noticed the moles on his face.