The wind bit at my skin as I walked.
The cloak I had stolen from a market stall draped heavy over my shoulders, still damp from the earlier rain. Beneath the shadow of my hood, the side of my face pulsed from the bee bite I got yesterday, the swelling had reduced, but the dull ache lingered stubbornly, like the sting refused to be forgotten.
My boots sank into the mud as I climbed the final hill.
And there it was.
Vorlachev Manor.
It rose like a dark crown against the gray sky, an enormous structure of stone and shadow, its towers piercing the clouds, its windows dim like half-watching eyes. Fences of twisted iron crawled around the estate, and an ancient forest pressed close behind it as if whispering secrets.
Nothing about the place was welcoming.
But I was too tired, too hungry, too lost to hesitate.
I approached the massive wooden doors, carved with symbols I didn't understand.
Before knocking, I adjusted my cloak, pulling the hood low. I didn't want anyone seeing my face, not when I barely understood this world, not when blood had dried on my ribs, not when survival depended on anonymity.
My hand trembled only once.
Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed through the manor's walls as if I'd struck the ribs of a sleeping beast.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then-
click
thud
- metal slid, locks loosened.
The door creaked open.
A figure stepped out.
A woman dressed entirely in black, her gown smooth and immaculate, her face hidden behind a long black veil that fell past her chest. Even her hands were gloved. She stood straight, unmoving, like one of the manor's statues had come alive.
My breath caught.
She wore a veil.
Her voice was deep, calm, emotionless.
"Name."
Her tone made the hair on my arms rise. This was no simple servant. There was authority in every syllable.
"Amelia," I answered, forcing my voice steady. "I... I saw a paper. A maid position."
She tilted her veiled head slightly.
"Follow."
No welcome.
No checking my papers.
No questions.
Just an order.
I stepped inside. The door shut behind me with a heavy slam that sounded too final.
The entrance hall swallowed me in cold grandeur. Tall ceilings, chandeliers that flickered like dying stars, portraits with eyes that followed me. The air carried a faint metallic scent - old stone, old secrets.
My stomach twisted.
I pressed a hand to my abdomen, clutching the wound beneath the cloak. The pain shot like electricity.
The veiled woman noticed.
"Are you ill?"
"No," I forced a straight posture, gripping the skirt of my cloak with two fingers like a desperate attempt at politeness. "Just... tired."
She didn't believe me. I could feel it through her stillness.
But she simply turned and said, "The Head will decide if you stay."
The "Head."
Whoever that was, I didn't like the way she said it.
We walked deeper into the manor, our footsteps echoing through a long, candle-lit corridor. The walls were lined with locked doors. Dozens of them. Some old, some new. All sealed.
The woman stopped before a tall, arched doorway.
She knocked once.
A voice answered from inside - sharp, cold, cutting.
"Enter."
She pushed me forward.
I stumbled inside.
A man sat behind a heavy desk carved from dark wood. He was older, his hair streaked with gray, his posture rigid. He was not the ruler of the region - just the manager of the manor. But even he carried an aura that made my skin tighten.
His eyes swept over my cloak, my gloves, my lowered hood.
"You seek residence and work," he stated.
"Yes... sir."
"You understand the rules Vorlachev Manor?" he asked, folding his hands.
"I"
I didn't.
But I needed a roof. Food. Time to figure this world out.
"I'm willing to follow whatever rules you set."
A pause.
He stood.
And then he stepped around the desk, observing me from head to toe like he was inspecting a weapon.
"You will wear a veil at all times," he said firmly. "You will not reveal your face to anyone outside the staff. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not ask questions."
My chest tightened.
This was more than strict.
This was suffocating.
"And above all," he continued, his voice lowering to something cold and final, "you will not enter any room that is locked. Not for cleaning. Not for curiosity. Not even if you hear something inside. Is that understood?"
What kind of place was this?
But again - I had no choice.
"Yes," I murmured.
He nodded once, sharply.
"Good."
He clapped his hands, and soon three maids entered - also veiled, their uniforms black, their steps soundless like trained shadows.
One of them stepped closer and bowed slightly.
"We will take her."
I felt their eyes - even behind the veil studying me, measuring me.
The Head gestured.
"Show her the quarters. And inform her of the child."
Child?
One of the maids stepped forward.
"There is only one resident under this roof besides us," she said softly. "An eight-year-old girl. You will see her from time to time, but you must not engage her unless she speaks to you first."
An eight-year-old?
In this massive, eerie place?
"Why"
The maid lifted a hand.
"No questions."
Right.
Their rule.
I swallowed my confusion.
The maids led me down another corridor. Their steps were perfectly synchronized, their heads facing straight, their veils swaying like dark petals.
Finally, the eldest among them spoke in a whisper.
"You are fortunate, newcomer. The manor rarely accepts outsiders."
Lucky.
That's one word for it.
"And remember," she added, her voice colder now. "Vorlachev Manor has eyes everywhere. One mistake... and the Head will not hesitate."
My fingers curled into my cloak.
"I understand."
As they escorted me to my small room
a narrow door at the very end of the servant's wing - I sensed something. A presence. A pressure. As if the house itself was watching.
The youngest maid opened the door.
"You start work tomorrow. Before dawn."
I nodded.
But just before they left, the eldest maid whispered something that made every nerve in my body rise
"Do not remove the veil. Not even in the hallways. There are reasons."
"What reasons?" I asked quietly.
All three turned their veiled faces toward me at once.
The door closed.
And I was left alone with the silence...
and the enormous, living, breathing darkness of Vorlachev Manor.
The small room smelled faintly of damp stone and wax, the shadows curling in corners like living things. I sank onto the hard wooden chair and exhaled, a long, slow sigh escaping my lips.
I glanced down at the uniform folded neatly on the bed. Black from head to toe, like the veiled women who had guided me here. A veil , an actual veil. I held it up in front of my face and squinted at my reflection in the tiny, dusty mirror on the wall.
"Well," I murmured to myself, a wry tilt in my voice despite the tension in my chest, "if everyone's going to wear a veil... I might as well overachieve. Why stop at one? I'll layer them. Double, triple... no face shown. Mystery Amelia. Very chic."
A small laugh escaped me, muffled behind the veil. The first sound I'd made all day that wasn't measured or cautious. It felt... dangerous. And yet, freeing.
With cautious steps, I made my way out of the quarters, adjusting the veil over my face like a comedian hiding behind a mask for effect. My hands brushed against the walls, the faint chill biting at my fingertips, as I navigated the hall toward the kitchen.
When I entered, the sight startled me. Four maids - veiled, of course - sat around a wooden table, quietly eating. They froze mid-bite as their eyes - or what I imagined as eyes behind the black fabric - fell on me.
When I entered, the sight startled me. Four maids sat around a wooden table, quietly eating. They froze mid-bite as their eyes - or what I imagined as eyes behind the black fabric - fell on me.
The second, leaning slightly forward with her elbows close to her sides, gave off the air of someone cautious, alert, yet curious.
The third was smaller in stature, with delicate features and a gentle, almost hesitant posture. Her hands moved lightly over the table, fidgeting slightly as if unsure where to place them, and her eyes darted around the room, drinking in every detail with quiet attentiveness.
The fourth, perched at the far end, tall and lean, had a sharp, almost hawk-like attentiveness, scanning me as if reading my very intentions before I spoke
"I - uh... good evening?" I said, flapping my hands slightly, the veil bobbing comically. "Night snack... your rules... I follow. Veiled. Totally veiled."
The maid raised a brow, tilting her head in the way that suggested both amusement and skepticism.
"You're the newcomer?" she asked, voice soft but tinged with curiosity.
"Yes... and I promise I don't bite," I whispered, as if the veil added some sacred form of secrecy to my humor. "Well... unless provoked."
A small, suppressed laugh slipped from one of the second maids, the sound ghostly but unmistakable. The tension in the room eased slightly.
"We eat quietly here," said the First, gesturing for me to sit. "But you... you seem different."
"I've been told that," I said, lowering myself onto the bench, careful not to disturb the shadows. "I also have excellent veil-wearing skills, if that counts."
They chuckled softly. And then, slowly, the conversation turned.
"The child," said the second maid, her voice quieter now, almost conspiratorial, "is far more... clever than you think. Do not underestimate her."
"Clever how?" I asked, curious despite myself, the veil making me feel like a spy in a comedy sketch.
"Evil," said the third maid plainly, a ghost of a grin hidden beneath her veil. "Manipulative, sharp. A single glance, and you'll know she's already three steps ahead. All the servants whisper about her. All the newcomers fail to understand the danger."
I blinked behind the veil. "Evil at eight... impressive. I can barely get my coffee machine working in my old world."
A soft laugh. I realized we were all laughing now - not loudly, but in that quiet way that makes small rooms feel warmer.
They introduced themselves properly then. Ilina, Mara, Sivea and the Fourth one, Tara.
The Four maids had finished their meal, their movements deliberate and silent. One by one, they lifted the delicate veils back over their faces, the soft silk brushing against their cheeks. The kitchen fell still, the clatter of dishes fading into the quiet hum of the manor.
---
Alone now, I lowered my own veil, feeling the fabric slide from my face like a shadow peeling away. My fingers trembled as I reached for the cupboard I had been guarding with both hope and caution. The lock yielded easily under my touch, as if it had been waiting for me to discover it.
Inside, a treasure I hadn't dared to imagine: bowls of steaming rice, tender meats glistening with sauce, sweet pastries so delicate they seemed almost unreal. My stomach tightened not with mere hunger, but with a secret, sudden excitement.
I didn't hesitate. I lifted a spoonful of rice and pressed it to my lips. The warmth, the aroma, the taste, it struck me in waves. Each bite was a revelation, each flavor a tiny rebellion against the cold order of the manor. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the food claim me entirely.
I felt a shiver of delight run through me, and my leg lifted slightly without thought, responding to the thrill that pulsed through my body. It was instinctive an unguarded movement that spoke more than words ever could. I let myself savor it, daring to enjoy this small victory in secret.
The cupboard, the food, the warmth all of it wrapped around me like a fragile cocoon. Outside, the first hints of dawn threatened the darkness, but I did not care. Here, in this quiet corner, I could linger a little longer in my own world. The night's whispers, the manor's strict eyes, all of it vanished. I had this moment entirely to myself, and I let it stretch, exquisite and unbroken, until even the first light could not pry me away.