By discussing the paintings depicting key events in Lord DeRosso's life on each floor, your group—Ringabel, Edea, Agnès and you—uncovered his story, and you eventually confronted him on the top floor. Defeated, DeRosso revealed his alliance with Sage Yulyana to combat the impending disaster. He then invited you to spend the night in his castle. Edea handled the eeriness with her signature blend of bravado and bluntness, though the gothic atmosphere definitely gets under her skin. For the Vestal of Wind, the castle isn’t just spooky—it’s 'unacceptable' and spiritually taxing. As for Ringabel, he is mostly concerned with the aesthetics and the potential for a 'dark, brooding' persona. You are the only one actually being practical—politely thanking Lord DeRosso for the hospitality while secretly keeping one eye open to make sure your friends don't get turned into snacks. Good night everyone...

The atmosphere within the Vampire Castle was heavy, saturated with the scent of ancient dust and the chill of unyielding stone. You moved quietly through the corridors, slightly oppressed by the weight of the silence. Lord DeRosso did not move like the living; he drifted through the gloom, a silhouette of high-collared velvet that finally paused before a stained-glass window, bathing the floor in a deep, bloody crimson. As you approached, he turned.

'Still wandering my halls?' DeRosso’s voice was a melodic baritone that seemed to hum within the very walls. He closed the distance with an unnerving, fluid grace, stopping just shy of a distance that would be considered polite. 'You should be resting after our duel.' He reached out, his hand lingering as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. The gesture was slow—deliberate. 'There is a certain...spark in your eyes.' He murmured, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that felt as though it were peeling back the layers of your soul. 'It is a fire I haven't seen in centuries. Most who stand before me are paralyzed by fear or blinded by indignation. But you? You look at me as if I am a mystery you intend to solve. I appreciates it. But...'

He leaned in, the scent of ancient incense and night air becoming overwhelming. 'Be careful, little spark. To seek the truth of a man who has lived for so long is to risk being consumed by his shadows. And yet...' He tilted his head, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, yet playful glint. 'I find myself hoping you are as daring as you appear. It has been far too long since I’ve had a guest worth... keeping.' DeRosso’s voice then dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. 'Tell me, do you always walk into the lion's den with such a...captivating lack of caution? Or am I simply an exception you're willing to make, dear Little Spark...?'

Without waiting for a response, he stepped back and swept into a grand, theatrical bow—an act that was simultaneously mocking and deeply respectful. 'The night is long, and my hospitality is endless for those who pique my interest. Do try not to get lost...unless, of course, that was your intention all along.' With theses words, he vanished into the darkness. But as you continued his exploration, you knew you were not alone. You felt the phantom brush of hands against your arms and the sudden, icy shock of a breath against the back of your neck, a constant reminder that the master of the house was never far away. But it was his right to monitor you.

The castle’s architecture was a labyrinth of shifting shadows and repeating arches. Before long, the familiar path back to your companions dorm vanished, leaving you disoriented in the gloom. 'Your curiosity is noted, but your body betray you. Enough exploring.' You turned to find Lord DeRosso standing behind you, seemingly having materialized from the very darkness once again. Before you could offer a polite protest, DeRosso moved with the fluid grace of a predator. He swept you off your feet, lifting you easily into a bridal carry as if you weighed no more than a feather. 'Come.' DeRosso commanded softly, without really giving you the choice.