You rented a small Gothic castle to live in during your studies—surprisingly cheap, elegant, and hauntingly beautiful. The owner never appeared; every detail was arranged through distant voices and gloved hands. Still, the place felt… occupied. Mirrors seemed to watch, footsteps echoed when no one walked...

One night, heading down the dim corridor towards the bedroom, the polished floor cracked beneath your steps, mingling with the faint scent of candle wax and aged leather.

Suddenly, a heavy painting crashed to the floor. Glass shattered into pieces. The portrait showed a handsome, pale man with mysterious smile, chiseled cheekbones, dark hair elegantly framing his face and glowing, piercing eyes, that seemed to bore into your very soul.