It had been hours since Theodore had arrived at the ghost woman's decrepit house, and he was sitting at a dining table so consumed by dust and cobwebs that it was barely recognizable as furniture.
The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the faint scuttling of insects could be heard in the corners.
Theodore glanced around the filthy house, disgusted. Dirt covered every surface, and the room was suffocatingly dark, illuminated only by the eerie glow of the ghost woman's aura. Still, he said nothing—he couldn't risk angering her.
The ghost floated silently into the room, carrying a chipped and grimy plate. On it, a trembling, alive rat struggled to escape.
Theodore recoiled, pointing at the plate.
"Am I… am I supposed to eat this?"
The ghost nodded, her grin widening as though she'd prepared a delicacy.
Theodore felt bile rise in his throat as he glanced back at her face.
She was smiling warmly, almost motherly, but the sight of her sharp, jagged teeth made his stomach churn.
"I can't eat something that's still alive," he said hesitantly, forcing himself to sound polite.
The ghost's smile didn't waver. Instead, she reached out with her long, razor-like claws and pierced the rat's body. Its agonized squeals echoed through the room as Theodore watched, horrified. The rat's death was slow and gruesome, and he had to look away when its eyes bulged before it finally went limp.
When he dared to glance back, the ghost was slicing the rat's body with her claws, its blood pooling on the cracked plate. She placed the raw pieces before Theodore and gestured toward it with exaggerated motions.
"Eat… eat," she said in her crackling, broken voice.
Theodore froze, his heart pounding. The air around the ghost grew heavy and suffocating, her aura thick with killing intent. Her grin had disappeared, replaced with a cold glare.
He hesitated, trembling, and slowly picked up a piece of raw meat. Blood dripped from the chunk, and tiny fragments of bone poked through the flesh. His stomach twisted as he opened his mouth, gagging before he even took a bite.
"Eat!" the ghost hissed, her voice sharp with impatience.
Sweating and shaking, Theodore forced the meat into his mouth. The cold, slimy texture hit his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He swallowed with tears in his eyes, his body trembling in revulsion.
The ghost's smile returned, as sharp and terrifying as ever. "Good," she said, clapping her hands like a mother praising her toddler.
Theodore tried to speak.
"I don't think I can eat anymore…"
But the ghost's expression darkened. Her clawed hand slammed onto the table, and her aura became overwhelming again. "Eat it all," she ordered, her crackling voice laced with fury.
Theodore clenched his fists. He could have ended this with his dark magic—could have fought back, escaped, and been done with it. But he didn't.
Instead, he thought of this as another test, another step in his training.
"This is just another challenge," he told himself, forcing his trembling hands to pick up another piece.
One by one, he consumed every raw, bloody chunk, gagging and nearly vomiting with each bite.
When the plate was empty, the ghost clapped her hands again, her jagged smile wide with approval. She scooped Theodore up like a child and carried him to another room, much to his humiliation.
The room was just as filthy as the rest of the house, filled with dusty toys and old, rotting clothes. Theodore realized this must have been her child's room once.
She placed him gently onto the bed and pulled a tattered sheet over him, her smile softening. For a brief moment, her aura seemed less threatening—almost calm. Then she turned and locked the door behind her, leaving Theodore alone.
He sighed with relief, knowing he had survived his first night.
*******
It had been a week since Theodore's disappearance, and the manor had fallen into chaos.
Mr. June, their once-composed combat instructor, was a shadow of his former self. His hair was unkempt, his clothes wrinkled, and his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. He hadn't rested in days, and the stress was taking its toll.
Miss Lidia and Miss Dalia fared no better. The dark circles under their eyes betrayed their exhaustion, and their usual calm demeanor had long since cracked.
The students, too, were at their breaking point. They argued constantly—some wanted to leave the cursed village and return to safety, while others insisted they stay and find Theodore and Marvin. Theodore's status as the prince made the stakes even higher; if the king discovered his son was missing, it could spell disaster for everyone involved.
Fear gripped the students. Some cried openly, while others clung to the hope that Theodore was still alive.
Mr. June did his best to reassure them.
"I'll find Prince Theodore," he vowed. "Even if it costs me my life, I'll bring him back."
But everyone knew the truth. It was impossible.
"Where's Vincent?" Mr. June asked, glancing at the huddled group.
One of the students shook their head.
"He hasn't left his room… not since that day."
Mr. June sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Even Faith?"
"She tried," another student said softly.
"But he won't let her in either. He hasn't eaten in six days."
The instructor closed his eyes, his expression heavy with guilt. "He's taking it hard," he murmured. "He and the prince are family, after all."
With a deep breath, Mr. June resolved to continue his search. If no one else could find Theodore, he would. He only hoped it wasn't too late.