It arrived without warning.

A black envelope, thick and heavy, embossed with gold lettering that simply read:

“You are cordially invited. Midnight. The Hawthorne Mansion.”

You stared at it in disbelief as Serena, sitting across from you in her apartment, shook her head in excitement.

“This has to be some kind of prank,” she said, laughing. “But… maybe the most epic prank ever.”

Before you could reply, Blair Waldorf swept in, perfectly composed as always, scanning the invitation with a calculating eye.

“This is… interesting,” she murmured, placing it delicately on the coffee table. “Intriguing, mysterious, and potentially dangerous. Exactly my kind of night.”

Dan and Nate arrived shortly after, equally bewildered but curious. And of course, Chuck Bass appeared last, smirking, already imagining the thrill of whatever awaited.

“You know,” Blair said, arching an eyebrow, “we have three choices: decline, ignore, or embrace the drama. I vote for the third.”

Serena grinned. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”

At midnight, the six of you approached the Hawthorne Mansion—long abandoned, its windows dark and broken, vines crawling along the stone walls. The air was thick with suspense, the city lights far behind you.

Inside, the mansion was eerie yet oddly captivating. Dust-covered chandeliers hung from the ceilings, cobwebs draped over ornate furniture, and the floorboards groaned under each step.

A voice echoed through the halls—soft, chilling, and just barely audible: "Welcome. Your presence was requested."

Blair’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a joke. Someone orchestrated this carefully.”

Chuck smirked. “Finally, something worth my time.”

Serena grabbed your hand instinctively, whispering, “Stay close.”