The mansion was silent.
Too silent.
Vicky sat up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The broken ceiling above him let in thin strands of moonlight, casting long shadows across the ruined hall. His heart beat steadily—but his mind was awake.
The word still echoed in his head.
Master.
He pressed two fingers against his temple.
The headache returned.
Slow. Heavy. Familiar.
"Did you hear that?" Vicky asked quietly.
Luka turned at once, alert. "Hear what, Master?"
Vicky looked at him. Luka's expression was serious, focused—but untouched by confusion or fear.
So it had been meant only for him.
The air inside the mansion shifted.
Not colder.
Not warmer.
Closer.
A faint pressure settled around Vicky, like someone standing just behind him without breathing.
Then—
"Master…"
The voice was soft.
Not loud.
Not threatening.
Yet it carried a weight that made his chest tighten.
Vicky stood.
The moment his feet touched the ground, the headache pulsed once—then eased, as if acknowledging his movement.
"Who are you?" he asked into the darkness.
No answer came immediately.
Only silence.
Then—
"I have waited."
The words felt old. Not spoken aloud, but placed directly into his mind.
"Waited for what?" Vicky asked.
"For you to open your eyes."
Luka frowned, stepping closer. "Master… you're speaking to someone."
"Yes," Vicky replied. "Someone who isn't here."
The shadows along the walls stretched slightly, bending toward him. Dust lifted from the floor without wind, then slowly settled again.
"Why do you call me that?" Vicky asked.
The pause this time was longer.
"Because that is what you are."
His head throbbed again—stronger.
Images flickered at the edge of his vision. Chains. Symbols. Words he could not read.
They vanished before forming.
"I cannot say more," the voice continued. "Not yet."
"Then why speak at all?" Vicky demanded.
"Because you are no longer alone."
Silence followed.
Deep. Absolute.
The pressure in the air faded. The headache dulled, retreating like a tide pulling back into darkness.
Luka exhaled slowly. "Whatever it was… it's gone."
Vicky stared ahead, eyes unreadable.
"No," he said quietly. "It's listening."
Outside, the city remained perfectly still.
And somewhere within the ruined mansion, a voice waited—patient and unseen.