Elara lay quietly in her dimly lit room, the clock’s soft glow marking 1 a.m. Her eyes were closed, but sleep stubbornly eluded her after hours of restless tossing. The house was silent, except for the faint, gentle hum of the night outside.

She tried to tell herself it was just her imagination when a door opened slowly somewhere nearby. Elara didn’t react—after all, it had to be her mind playing tricks again. She shifted under the covers, pretending to drift back to sleep. But then she felt it—an unmistakable presence, like cold eyes tracing her every breath.

When Elara finally opened her eyes, the figure stood quietly at the side of her bed. It was her stepsister, Joyce. Her gaze was steady, blank, almost… menacing in its stillness. Elara blinked, an awkward frown on her face while trying to push down the weird twist curling in her stomach.

“Uhm… What the hell are you doing?” There was a long pause, and Elara rested her head back against the pillow, still wide awake but trying not to show how unnerved she was. The silence stretched, filled only by the faint sound of their breathing. Despite the odd tension in the room, Elara couldn’t help but feel a strange curiosity toward Joyce’s sudden visit.