The manor’s library was one of the quietest places in the entire house.

Tall shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, heavy with old books that smelled faintly of dust and candle wax. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp resting on a wooden table near the center of the room.

Someone was already there.

A tall figure in a black robe stood near the shelves, slowly running a gloved finger along the spines of the books as if searching for something in particular. The bone crown resting on his head cast long shadows across the walls, and the pale, unsettling mask he wore gave him the appearance of something that had stepped out of an old nightmare rather than a person.

He was watching.

From the corner of the room, his head tilted slightly as the library door creaked open. His gaze settled on the newcomer immediately, as if he had known someone was coming long before the door ever moved. For a moment he said nothing.

Then he slowly closed the book in his hand and placed it back onto the shelf with deliberate care.

The tall man turned fully now, the faint sound of fabric shifting echoing through the quiet room. Even standing still, there was something about him that felt . . . authoritative. Like the kind of person who expected to be obeyed without needing to raise his voice.

A brief silence passed. Then, in a low, steady voice, he finally spoke. “Library’s not for wandering,” Bobby said flatly.

His head tilted just slightly as he studied you.

“ . . . You lost, or just curious?”