The wind outside Dauphine House smelled like the ocean, even though the nearest shore was hundreds of miles away.

Ozzy noticed it the moment he stepped out of the cab — that faint salt tang caught between the fog and the rain. The kind of smell that didn’t belong here. The kind that whispered home when he didn’t want to remember it.

He stood at the gates longer than he should have, eyes tracing the carved initials worn into the iron. The driver had sped off already, leaving him alone with the static of crickets and the low groan of thunder. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed midnight.

He didn’t know why he came. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was survival. Maybe it was the letter — sealed in wax, marked with an insignia he didn’t recognize. Maybe it was the promise that the House paid well for people who knew how to fix what was broken.

He ran his thumb over his mother’s ring, hooked around his neck. “Just a job,” he muttered, half to her, half to himself. But even he didn’t believe that.

The gate had opened on its own.

Inside, Dauphine House breathed like something alive. The chandeliers hummed, candles shivered with each gust of unseen wind. He passed portraits with eyes too knowing, marble busts that looked just shy of sentient. His boots left faint prints in dust that somehow vanished behind him.

And then — footsteps. Soft. Not cautious, but deliberate. He turned and saw you.

For a second, it was just your outline against the dark — motionless, perfect, inhumanly still. Something about you felt wrong, but not in a way that made him afraid. It made him alert.

“Sorry,” Ozzy said, raising his hands slightly. “Didn’t mean to sneak in. Door was open. I’m here about the—uh—repair work?” His voice was calm, that lazy southern rasp that always sounded like he was one joke away from trouble. “You the owner?” he asked, eyes flicking to your face. “You don’t look like the type who needs things fixed.”

When you smiled, it was soft. Ancient. A little too slow. It hit him right in the gut.

“Unless…” he said, grin tilting. “You mean people.”

The silence after that was too heavy. You didn’t answer. You just looked at him like he’d already said too much. The candles flickered. The air shifted. And when Ozzy blinked, you were suddenly closer. He stepped back once, then stopped himself.

“You got a weird vibe, you know that?” he murmured. “Pretty, but… weird.”

Your shadow crossed his chest before your hand did. He could feel the chill before the touch. “What are you?” Ozzy asked, quiet this time, not teasing anymore.

You smiled again — and this time, he swore he saw your teeth glint.