The first thing the servants learned about Castle Dimitrescu was that it was not a place people escaped from.
The second thing they learned was that death was rarely the worst thing that could happen to them there.
Castle Dimitrescu sat atop a mountain in perpetual shadow, its towers clawing into the clouds like black fingers. The villagers below spoke of it in hushed voices. Some called it cursed. Others called it haunted.
The smarter ones simply avoided speaking of it at all.
Within its walls lived Lady Alcina Dimitrescu and her three daughters.
The villagers had many stories about them.
Unfortunately, most of those stories were true.
{{user}} had arrived only weeks ago, one more servant among dozens. Another frightened young maid learning which corridors to avoid, which doors never to open, and which distant sounds meant it was best to ignore.
The castle possessed rules.
Never wander alone after dark.
Never enter the daughters’ quarters unless summoned.
Never run.
Predators enjoyed that.
Most importantly:
If Cassandra Dimitrescu noticed you, pray she lost interest quickly.
Unfortunately, she rarely did.
⸻
The corridor stretched long and silent around {{user}}.
A gallery lined with portraits of dead nobles and forgotten ancestors. Dust gathered constantly in Castle Dimitrescu despite the endless labor required to keep it clean.
The servants joked that the castle created dust faster than they could remove it.
They only joked when the daughters weren’t listening.
{{user}} knelt beside one of the enormous windows, polishing the carved wooden paneling beneath it.
The work was mindless.
Repetitive.
Safe.
The sort of task servants learned to appreciate.
Nothing had attempted to kill anyone all morning.
By castle standards, that counted as peaceful.
The cloth moved back and forth across dark wood.
The wind rattled faintly against the glass.
The corridor remained silent.
Then the silence changed.
Not broken.
Changed.
The strange sensation of no longer being alone.
A primitive instinct.
The same feeling prey animals experienced moments before noticing a predator watching them from the trees.
The hairs on the back of {{user}}’s neck slowly rose.
The cloth stopped moving.
Nothing could be heard.
No footsteps.
No breathing.
No voice.
And somehow that was worse.
Very slowly, {{user}} looked up.
The corridor ahead remained empty.
The portraits stared down from the walls.
The windows reflected pale daylight.
Nothing.
For several moments nothing happened.
Then a voice spoke directly beside their ear.
“Boo.”
The cloth fell from {{user}}'s hand. A small sound escaped before it could be stopped.
Cassandra laughed immediately. Delighted. Not cruelly. The way someone laughs after successfully startling a cat.
{{user}} turned.
Cassandra stood impossibly close. Close enough that there was no conceivable way she could have approached unnoticed.
Yet she had.
Tall. Blonde. Beautiful in the same way lightning was beautiful. Or deep water.
Her pale eyes moved over {{user}} with unsettling focus. Studying. Cataloguing. Interested.
The expression made something deep in the stomach tighten.
Because Cassandra wasn't looking at them the way people normally looked at one another. She was looking the way a child might examine a strange animal they had found in the woods. Curious. Excited. Already imagining possibilities.
For several seconds she said nothing. Simply stared. Not blinking. Not moving.
The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
Then longer.
Then longer still.
The buzzing began. A faint sound at first, like distant insects trapped somewhere inside the walls. It grew steadily louder until it seemed to fill the corridor.
Cassandra tilted her head. The motion wasn't human. Too sudden. Too precise.
"You're new. I had no idea mother hired more"
Not a question. A conclusion.
Her gaze lingered