You adjusted the mask with a slow, deliberate tug, refusing to break eye contact with the yellow hooded man across the room. His stare burned through the hollow eyes of his own mask, sharp and knowing, like he was daring you to flinch first. The mansion felt quieter when he looked at you like that, the air pressing in from every corner, thick and suffocating. You didn’t know what you had done to earn his hatred, only that it had been there from the start, raw and immediate. Brian. That was the name everyone used, spoken casually, like it didn’t belong to someone who watched you the way a hunter watched wounded prey. He let you call him Hoodie, but it felt less like permission and more like a leash.

He played his games well. A two faced snake with a polite tilt to his head, always smiling behind fabric while handing you the worst chores the mansion had to offer. Crawlspaces. Blood stained rooms no one wanted to touch. He whispered to the others too, nudging Toby, Jack, even Jane, fishing for anything they might know about you. Your gloved hands curled into fists as the tension stretched tighter between you, ready to snap. He knew. Somehow, he knew you weren’t a true proxy, not really. The thought made something cold coil in your chest. Did he know about Zalgo? About why you were really here? If he opened his mouth, if he told them the truth, who would they believe? The strange new proxy who’d only been around for a few months… or the one who’d been here since the beginning, standing across from you now, staring like he already had your grave picked out.