In an inconspicuous corner of the mansion grounds, concealed beneath a tangle of thick bushes and wild grasses, lay a weathered wooden double door.

  It blended seamlessly with the earth around it, as though it were part of the landscape itself. The planks bore the hue of the dirt, their surface darkened by years of dampness and decay, making them all but vanish to an inattentive eye.

  Time and the elements had weathered the wood slightly rough and coarse, with cracks and grain patterns etched deep into its surface. Moss clings to the edges, vines and grasses cover the doors, while thick bushes around cast dappled shadows over it.

  At its center, a heavy chain coiled tightly around the twin iron handles, its links dulled by rust but still strong, locking away and protecting it from potentially illegal trespassing.

  From afar, an elderly man approached with deliberate care, his footsteps barely disturbing the silence. His figure was hidden beneath the shadow of a pristine gray cleric’s robe. At his side, a ring of keys hung from his belt, their cold metal clinking with each movement.

  As he neared the hidden chained door, the old man paused, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced wariness.

  Satisfied that he was alone, he crouched down. With a gnarled hand, he selected a key from his collection and inserted it into the lock.

  With a hollow click, the chain fell loose, slithering down like a coiled serpent returning to the earth.

  He pulled the doors open, the twin panels groaning softly in protest, revealing a narrow staircase that descended into the darkness below. A faint, unpleasant smell wafted up, carried by a chill breeze that seemed to originate from the depths.

  Unfazed, the man retrieved a handheld lantern from his robe. Its flickering light cast long shadows that danced along the walls as he began his descent into the unknown.

  His boots scraped against the dirt, each step echoed softly, then was swallowed by the oppressive darkness that seemed to close in around him.

  Unbeknownst to him, in a concealed spot nearby, a pair of eyes watched silently.

  —

  The old man, Benjamin descended the narrow staircase, each measured step drawing a low groan from the wood beneath his boots.

  The steps were made of worn and old wood, their fibers splintering and warped, yet they held under his weight, with each step it withstood, it creaked, making a groaning sound.

  Faint traces of mildew clung to the steps and the railing, little more than a warped beam, was scarred by deep notches as if marked by claws long ago.

  At the end of the staircase, a long but small hallway stretched out into darkness. Unhesitating, Benjamin walked toward it with a calm demeanor, with the handheld lantern in his hand, his steps echoing through the hallways with each step.

  The faint glow of his lantern carved thin pools of light that swayed upon the walls, dust motes swirled faintly in the lantern light, drifting like embers in the stale air.

  *snap*

  For a brief moment, he paused, raising his hand and snapping his fingers. With it, a sharp sound like a spark cracking in still air, as the darkness stirred.

  In an instant, one by one, oil lamps fixed into wrought-iron brackets along the entire hallway flickered to life, their tiny flames flaring and their orange light spilling across the stone floor.

  ‘...’

  The hallway revealed itself entirely.

  Benjamin walked on. On either side, stone pillars rose like silent sentinels, each adorned with runes and curling symbols long eroded by time. Each pillar bore a mounted lamp now ablaze, casting elongated shadows that crawled and twisted over the walls like living things.

  The bricks enclosing the hallway were aged, their surfaces roughened by centuries of neglect. In places, dried blood marred the walls, their scent of iron lingered faintly beneath the pervasive mustiness, exuding an enigmatic sense that sent shivers down the spine.

  Finally, he reached the terminus: a metallic door embedded within the wall. It had a pitted and scarred surface, filled with mechanical pipes and cogs. A keyhole sat within a heavy locking plate, dulled by corrosion.

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  Benjamin halted before it and let the lantern hang at his side. His other hand reached into the cluster of keys at his hip, selected a long and blunt key, fitted it into the keyhole.

  It slid into the lock, then came a sound of metal rasping against metal as the inner gears stirred. The door shuddered and began to pull itself aside, its heavy bulk retracting slowly into the wall.

  From the widening gap spilled a breath of foul air, carrying a stench that crawled into the throat. Benjamin’s brow furrowed slightly, but he offered no word but stepped forward.

  However, before he could move further, all the lamps in the hallway shivered and stuttered collectively, their shadows thrashing violently across the walls.

  Benjamin froze mid-stride. Slowly, he turned his head, his gaze drifting back, eyes gleaming with a dangerous contemplation. He closed his eyes briefly, his brow knitted beneath the touch of his fingers as though to soothe some unseen pressure, before releasing them with a soft exhalation.

  “Hmm.”

  When his eyes opened again, they burned with a crimson intensity. Without notice, his form vanished, suddenly disappearing from sight, leaving a trail of rippling red light that streaked into the air.

  The basement fell into silence. One by one, the oil lamps flickered weakly before dimming. At the far end, the metal door remained half-open for a lingering moment, then began its slow grinding shut, the foul breath receding with it.

  Yet, just before it closed completely, a faint shadow slipped through its narrowing gap, unnoticed in the dim light.

  —

  On the third floor of the mansion, Benjamin's figure reappeared beneath the sweeping curve of the grand staircase, the air around him vibrating faintly.

  His tall frame’s shadow stretched long across the polished floor, it was distorted by the flickering light of wall-mounted lamps. The silence was broken by the faint rustle of his robe as it settled from the abrupt movement that had brought him here.

  Strands of gray hair clung haphazardly to his temples, they usually were meticulously groomed but now were slightly disheveled, though he paid it no mind.

  Instead, his eyes gleamed dangerously, locked upon the figure perched at the top of the staircase.

  “Tch”

  He bit his lip, the sharp pain went through his mind momentarily until the faintest trace of crimson threatened to bloom.

  His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles trembled. Veins popped out on his forehead, the cords of his forearms stood out like roots beneath the skin. The air around him grew warmer as his irritation intensified.

  Before him at the top step, illuminated by the faint sway of the lamp's light, seemingly oblivious to the changed atmosphere, was a small mouse.

  The creature twitched its whiskers and tilted its head innocently, its beady black eyes reflecting a spark of the nearest lamp. It remained still and stared back at him as if unaware of its own predicament.

  Benjamin raised his hand slowly, his fingers spreading open before curling inward as if he grabbed the air around him with deliberate force.

  *pang*

  The air around his grasp shivered. In the next instant, the very spot where the mouse sat detonated in a small burst, creating a trail of smoke and dust, darkening the steps slightly.

  Yet, the mouse was nowhere to be found.

  His crimson eyes narrowed, scanning across the staircase.

  There, in midair, the creature had flung itself at the instant of explosion, its tiny body riding the impact and hurling itself farther from its original position.

  It arced downward before landing lightly upon the polished floor below, then bolted into the hallway with startling speed.

  But its freedom lasted only a heartbeat. Before it could escape, an uncanny, immense shadow loomed over it.

  The mouse froze, its black eyes rolling upward just in time to glimpse only a vast silhouette looming above.

  Its eyes widened in realization as a massive boot descended upon it, crushing its fragile body with a sickening crunch. Its small frame burst into a smear of crimson and fragments of flesh that grotesquely painted the floor.

  Benjamin frowned, the sticky remnants of the creature clinging to his boot irritating him.

  With a flicker of crimson in his eyes, flames erupted around the mouse's remains, hungrily twisted outward, and consumed the flesh and bone in a blaze until all that remained was drifting ash.

  “Is it because of the cold season? These pests… their numbers have been rising as of late.”

  Slowly, his gaze shifted toward the attic. His eyes, now having already returned to normal, showed a subtle emotion before quickly vanishing behind the familiar gentle smile he usually wore.

  The staircase groaned faintly beneath his steps as he ascended, reaching the narrow attic door and pushing it open. Soon, a wave of oil paint’s scent and the faint musk of old wood tinged faintly against his nose.

  He stepped into the dimly lit space where a solitary portrait awaited and stood before the lifeless girl in the picture, as always.

  The girl in the painting seemingly gazed back at him, her eyes capturing an eternal moment of serenity.

  Benjamin's expression softened as he approached her, his fingers brushing lightly over the oil canvas as if trying to draw warmth from the painted surface.

  “I will clean them up, just don’t worry about me, Isidora.”

  He murmured softly. Behind him, the hallway's lamps flickered erratically. Yet, Benjamin remained oblivious, too engrossed in his own pretentious world to notice the disturbance, it seemed.