The road stretched endlessly into darkness, twisting through mist soaked hills and forests untouched by time.
Ethan sat in the back of the Rolls Royce, silent, battered, and unsure if he was being rescued… or delivered.
No city lights.
No signs of life.
Just shadows and winding asphalt.
The driver a pale man in a black suit, silent as the dead didn't glance back once.
Ethan's pulse slowed only when the car passed two towering obsidian gates, flanked by marble lion statues.
The gates creaked open with robotic precision, and the car drifted forward into a private world.
He leaned closer to the window.
Then froze.
The mansion if that word even fit looked like something torn from a dream built on ancient wealth.
Sprawled across a massive cliffside estate, the house was five stories of dark modern elegance glass walls, obsidian columns, crimson lighting under the edges like a bleeding jewel.
A waterfall ran down one side of the structure into a black koi pond with golden fish.
Statues lined the path to the entrance all women, carved in black stone.
Queens. Warriors. Saints. Even monsters.
Their gazes felt like judgment.
And waiting at the top of the steps were maids at least twelve of them, dressed in sleek red and black uniforms, standing like soldiers.
Not one smiled.
Not one blinked.
Ethan stepped out of the car, wobbling on aching legs.
His blood had dried into his shirt.
He didn't know where to look the mansion, the women, or the woman walking toward him.
Vivian, umbrella in hand, descended the steps like she owned gravity itself.
"No shoes in the house," she said, gesturing toward the marble entry. "And don't bleed on the floor. The maids just polished it."
He tried to speak, but her presence silenced him.
She passed him without pause, and the maids parted to let her through.
One turned to Ethan and extended a towel.
"You will follow," she said.
Inside, the mansion was pure sensory overload.
The floors were black marble veined with crimson.
The ceiling rose like a cathedral, with crystal chandeliers shaped like falling snow.
Silk curtains as tall as trees swayed in a breeze Ethan couldn't feel.
The air smelled of jasmine, old money, and something electric.
Paintings hung along the walls all portraits of women: powerful, haunting, defiant.
Some wore crowns. Others held blades. One was on fire.
He was led up a grand staircase to the second floor into a suite that could swallow his old apartment ten times over.
Dark velvet walls.
A bed carved from cherrywood. A rain shower larger than most living rooms.
The sheets smelled like lavender and danger.
On the bed lay a fresh set of clothes black slacks, white shirt, thin silk robe.
No shoes.
The maid who led him in finally spoke.
"You will bathe. Dress. Then join the mistress in the Crimson Room."
"The… what?"
But she was already gone.
Thirty minutes later, Ethan descended another hallway, barefoot, the silk robe whispering around his legs.
At the end stood twin doors carved with roses and snakes.
As he approached, they opened on their own.
The Crimson Room was a blend of madness and grace.
Circular. Walls of deep velvet red.
A piano in one corner. A single fireplace, crackling.
A massive skylight overhead showing the black, moonless sky.
And in the center a long glass table with two seats.
Vivian sat at one.
A glass of wine in her hand. Legs crossed. Black satin robe. No expression.
She gestured to the seat opposite her.
Ethan sat.
She studied him for a long moment. Then:
"Do you know why you're here?"
He swallowed. "Because I… hit your car?"
A flicker of amusement crossed her lips.
"Wrong. That car gets hit weekly. Men like you desperate, drowning crash into my world all the time. But you… you didn't run. Not from me. Not even from death."
"I didn't have anywhere else to go."
"Exactly," she said, swirling her wine. "And now… you do."
She leaned forward.
"I'll make you an offer. A dangerous one. But it's better than the life you had. And far more valuable than the one you threw away."
Ethan's heart thudded in his chest. "What kind of offer?"
Her smile was slow. Calculated.
"You become mine. My problem. My project. My responsibility. You follow my rules. You obey. And in return… I erase your debt. I give you purpose. And if you survive me you leave this place reborn."
Ethan stared at her, unsure if this was a dream… or a beautifully constructed cage.
"And if I say no?" he asked quietly.
She stood.
The fireplace roared behind her. Her shadow danced like a devil's.
"Then you leave tonight," she said softly. "With your broken body. Your debt still alive. And my car's bloodstain on your conscience."
A pause.
Then:
"Choose."