Chapter 2: Whispers of the Unknown
The days following were just one big blur of chores upon chores for Emilia: rising at dawn, helping with meals, dusting grand rooms, and cleaning every nook and cranny of the estate. The staff seemed to move in some sort of rhythm, as if each one was taught well in the art of being invisible to the mansion's owner. She knew to keep her head down, her steps light, and her eyes averted-when Mr. Dorian Vale was near, at any rate.
Still, there was something undeniable about him. Every time he entered a room, the air seemed to grow thicker. The staff-even Mrs. Crane-stood straighter, their voices quieter, as if he commanded not just attention but reverence. His presence lingered long after he left-like a shadow that stretched far beyond his footsteps.
She had been trying to tell herself it was her imagination. After all, Dorian Vale was only human. Cold, remote, unreachable. Yet there was something about him that didn't feel quite. right.
She had noticed it most on the nights when she was left alone in the quiet, darkened mansion. The house had its own sounds—the creaking of the old wood, the whisper of wind through the trees outside—but there was always one sound that unnerved her the most: footsteps.
They would echo down the hall at odd hours, when she was sure no one else was awake. Slow, deliberate steps, as though someone was walking just out of view, watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck would prickle and her breath catch in her throat.
She would force herself to look away from the hallway, but the footsteps never stopped.
One night, she was carrying a tray of food to the master's study when she heard them again-the slow, measured steps, echoing from the darkness. She froze. There was no mistaking it.
Dorian.
Her heart racing in her chest, she moved with stealth towards the study, her feet light but unsteady. She knew it was madness to be anywhere near him at this hour, but she couldn't help herself. Her curiosity-this strange pull she felt toward him-was growing too strong to ignore.
She hesitated as she approached the door. It was he, inside there, with his piercing look and cold behavior, making her stomach twist in a surge of nervous expectation.
Then the door slightly creaked open, and she found herself face to face with him.
Dorian filled the doorway, tall, and silent. He hadn't heard her, hadn't noticed her presence, and for a moment, Emilia just stood transfixed by his stillness.
He was not looking at her, but he had that usual unreadable expression in his face. He faced out the window, his back to her, lost in thought, apparently.
"Mr. Vale?" The voice was soft, barely audible, as Emilia broke into the silence.
He didn't flinch, but slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to face her. His eyes were darker than she remembered, the usual icy gleam replaced with something far more. intense.
"You're still here," he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet amusement. "Didn't Mrs. Crane tell you to retire for the night?"
Emilia swallowed hard as the air grew thick with tension. "I. I was just bringing you some food," she stammered, extending the tray, her hands shaking.
His gaze flickered down to the tray before settling back on her. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips. "You're nervous," he observed.
Her breath caught. "N-No, I'm not."
He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, predatory even. The air around them seemed to crackle with an intensity she couldn't explain.
"You lie very well," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. He reached out, his hand brushing against hers as he took the tray from her.
Emilia shivered at the touch, an unfamiliar warmth flooding her body. But it wasn't warmth; it was something darker, something that made her pulse race and her skin tingle.
Before she could collect herself, he turned back toward the study, his voice carrying over his shoulder. "You should leave. Don't make it a habit to wander the house at night."
Emilia stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to leave or stay. But her body seemed to move of its own accord, her feet carrying her backward, away from him, down the hall.
The door to the study clicked shut behind her, and for a moment, she stood in the darkened hallway, her heart still racing.
What was it about him?
Every encounter, no matter how brief, left her feeling like she had glimpsed something far deeper, far darker within him. And yet, there was something magnetic about it—something that drew her in, despite the warnings her mind screamed at her.
She didn't want to be scared of him, but she couldn't ignore the pull.
****
As she turned to head back to her room, a soft whisper filled the air.
"Emilia.
She whirled around, her heart in her throat. There was nobody.
But the whisper remained in her head as
if it had been said by the shadows themselves.
Mystery mounted.