Chapter 3: The Secrets Hiding Under the Surface
The days that followed were different. Emilia had hoped the strange encounter with Dorian would fade into the background, but it lingered in her thoughts like a shadow. Every time she entered a room, she felt his eyes on her, even when he wasn't there. It was as if his presence had left a lingering mark on her, a mark she couldn't escape.
That night, after another day of nonstop cleaning, Emilia sat in the dark servant's quarters alone, trying to catch her breath. The mansion was very quiet-in that awkward silence that felt like a burden, almost suffocating. She glanced at the time. It was close to midnight, and the house had grown still, more so than she wished to admit.
By now, she knew it would always be during such quiet moments when things happened. Outside, there was the howling wind rattling the windows; however, inside the mansion, complete silence was maintained but for a crackling in an old floorboard every now and then or maybe just far away, someone must be ticking a timepiece.
Emilia laid the book aside, her eyes drifting to the hall. There it was again, unmistakable: footsteps slow, measured, but sure in that otherwise oppressive quiet. Her heartbeat quickened while her palms grew moist.
Was it him again?
She told herself it was nothing, just the house settling, or perhaps one of the other staff members coming down the hall. But as the footsteps drew nearer, she felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine. There was no mistaking it. These were not the footsteps of an ordinary person.
They were deliberate, calculated.
She stood slowly, her legs shaking slightly. She couldn't avoid it any longer. Her curiosity, the need to understand, pushed her toward the door.
With a breath that sounded far too loud in the stillness, she opened the door, just a crack.
And then she froze.
There, standing in the dim hallway, was Dorian.
His tall frame was silhouetted against the faint light issuing from the far candle. He was standing quite still, his back to her, looking out a narrow window into the night sky. Moonlight struck his features, casting a cold, almost otherworldly glow on him.
For a moment, Emilia considered turning back into her room, but something kept her rooted in her place. She could not tear her gaze off of him. There was just something about him, the stillness of his presence, that hypnotized her.
Suddenly, he spoke.
"You're still awake," he said in a low tone, barely above a whisper, yet laced with quiet command.
Emilia swallowed hard. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude.
He turned to her, his gaze sharp, piercing. His eyes glimmered in the moonlight, the ice-blue depths almost glowing. The intensity in his stare made her heart stop a beat.
"You are not intruding," he said quietly, but it felt heavy, as if laced with meaning not said. He took one step closer to her, closing the space between them. Emilia's breath hitched in her throat.
"I've been… watching you," he murmured, his voice barely audible, but the words sent a shiver down her spine. "Curious, aren't you?"
Emilia's pulse quickened. Was he talking about the house? Or about her?
She couldn't find the words to respond.
He took another step forward, his presence so imposing that she felt as though she couldn't breathe. His eyes locked onto hers, and she couldn't look away. There was a magnetic pull that seemed to draw her toward him.
"I don't bite," he said with a ghost of a smile, though his expression was still cold, unreadable.
The tension in the room thickened. Emilia felt like she was teetering on the edge of something she didn't fully understand—something dangerous, yet thrilling.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Dorian turned away and walked toward the grand staircase. But his voice, low and smooth, drifted back to her.
"Curiosity can be a dangerous thing, Emilia."
The warning had sent a shiver through her, but it was more than that. It was a challenge. Like he wanted her to follow him into the secrets hidden below the surface of his world.
Her breathing came in small gasps. What was he? What did he hide?
The next morning, she could not shake the feel of his words, no more than the weight of his gaze. She found herself warier than ever, not just of Dorian, but of the mansion itself. It was as though the walls were watching her, something within them just waiting for her to dig out their secrets.
The staff went about their duties, doing the things they always did without much thought. But Emilia was acutely aware of the silence around her. The mansion seemed to hum with an invisible tension. Even Mrs. Crane, who had always been brisk and no-nonsense, seemed to glance nervously at the corners of the rooms, as if expecting something—or someone—to emerge from the shadows.
It wasn't until that evening, after another long day of chores, that Emilia found herself standing in front of the door to the study once more-the very same door she had seen Dorian slip behind just days earlier. Outside, the air was thick with fog, and the moon barely shone through the haze.
She couldn't resist herself.
With a trembling hand, she reached for the door handle. Just as she was about to turn it, she heard something.
A low, guttural growl.
It came from the study. Deep, unsettling-like something unnatural.
Her heart racing, she stepped backward, the rush of fear coursing through her veins. What was going on in that room? What was he hiding?
She didn't dare open the door. Instead, she turned and fled, the growl echoing in her mind as she ran down the hallway.
She couldn't deny it any longer. There was something,wrong with Dorian. Something dark.
And she was caught in the web of his mystery.