The Armon mansion loomed like a forgotten castle, its towering structure casting long, menacing shadows over the cobblestone path. Celeste Cameron paused for a moment at the iron gates, her heart hammering in her chest. She had seen the mansion from a distance before, but now, standing at its threshold, it felt like a prison. A gilded cage she had no choice but to enter.

"This is it," she whispered under her breath, clutching the strap of her worn-out bag until her knuckles turned white. "No turning back now."

With a tremor in her hands, she pushed open the creaking gates, the rusty sound echoing through the air like a warning. The long driveway stretched before her, an endless path leading toward an unknown future. Each step she took was swallowed by the cold night air, the crunch of her boots on the gravel the only sound in the otherwise oppressive silence.

As she neared the front steps, the heavy wooden doors of the mansion swung open with an almost supernatural ease, and an older man in a sharp black suit appeared in the doorway. His gray hair was neatly combed, and his posture was impeccable, but it was his eyes that caught her attention—piercing, almost too knowing.

"Miss Cameron, I presume?" His voice was deep, but the slight curve of his lips suggested some hidden warmth beneath his stern exterior.

"Yes," Celeste replied, her voice betraying the uncertainty that gnawed at her. She quickly steadied herself, pushing the fear down into the pit of her stomach.

"I'm Martin Armon, Zhypher's uncle," he continued, stepping aside to allow her entry. "I oversee the household. You'll report to me, directly."

The words "Zhypher's uncle" hung in the air, heavy with expectation. Everyone in town knew the name Armon—wealthy, powerful, untouchable. Zhypher Armon, in particular, was known for his unapproachable demeanor and short temper. Celeste had heard enough rumors to know better than to believe them all, but she wasn't foolish enough to think the truth would be any less intimidating.

"Follow me," Martin said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "Mr. Armon is in his study. Let's not keep him waiting."

As they walked through the grand hallways of the mansion, Celeste couldn't help but marvel at the opulence around her. Marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, and delicate chandeliers hung from the ceilings like crystal tears. The walls were adorned with what must have been priceless artwork, but none of it could mask the underlying sense of emptiness that clung to every corner.

Finally, they stopped in front of a large wooden door. Martin knocked twice, the sound reverberating through the silent house before he turned the handle and stepped inside.

"Zhypher, the new applicant is here," Martin announced, his voice unwavering.

Celeste's breath caught in her throat as she stepped into the room, her eyes immediately drawn to the man standing by the window. The light of the setting sun bathed him in a golden glow, casting long shadows across his sharp features. His presence was overwhelming—tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating an almost palpable air of authority.

He turned slowly, his intense gray eyes locking onto hers. For a brief moment, Celeste felt as though she were a mouse caught in the gaze of a lion.

"Leave us, Uncle," Zhypher's voice rang out, deep and commanding. "I can handle this."

Martin hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Celeste, but he gave a small nod and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The silence between them was thick, oppressive. Zhypher took a step toward her, his eyes scanning her with unnerving precision, as if he could see through the very fabric of her being. Celeste fought to maintain her composure, even though the weight of his gaze made her skin prickle.

"So, you're the 157th applicant," he said, his voice flat, almost disinterested. "Tell me, Miss Cameron, do you think you can last where 156 others have failed?"

Celeste's heart raced, but she refused to let it show. She straightened her posture, meeting his gaze with an unwavering resolve.

"I can," she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.

Zhypher's lips twitched upward in something that could have been a smile, but it was far from kind. There was something cold about it, a challenge wrapped in mockery.

"Confidence. I like that," he mused, taking another step toward her. His presence loomed over her, imposing and magnetic. "But tell me, Miss Cameron, do you know why they all left? The ones before you?"

She swallowed hard but held his gaze. "Your temper," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Zhypher chuckled softly, a sound devoid of humor. "That's part of it," he admitted, taking another step closer. "But it's more than that. They couldn't handle me."

He stopped mere inches away, his intense gaze never leaving hers. Celeste could feel the heat of his body, the subtle shift of air as he moved closer. For a moment, she thought he might reach out, might do something... but then he didn't.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, heart racing in her chest.

Zhypher smirked, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous. "Just testing you," he said, his voice low and almost predatory. "Most of them would have bolted by now."

Celeste's hands clenched at her sides, her pulse pounding in her ears. "I'm not like the others," she said, her voice steady despite the fear rising in her throat.

Zhypher's eyes flickered, a hint of something unexpected flashing in their depths. Curiosity, maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Good," he said, stepping back with a sharp motion, as if shaking off the moment. "Because I don't have time for weakness. My mother's care is my priority. You'll follow my instructions to the letter. Fail, and you're out. Understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Armon," Celeste replied, the words coming out smoother than she felt. She could feel the weight of the challenge hanging over her, but she had no choice. She had nowhere else to go.

Zhypher turned away, his back now to her as he stared out the window. "Uncle Martin will show you around. Be ready to start tomorrow. And one last thing," he said, his voice turning cold once more. "If you expect kindness, don't. I have none to spare."

As the door clicked shut behind her, Celeste stood frozen for a moment, her mind racing. The mansion was cold, and Zhypher Armon even colder. But she couldn't afford to let his ice-cold demeanor break her. She had nothing left—no family, no future—except this chance. She couldn't fail.

With renewed determination, she turned toward the hallway, ready to face whatever nightmare Zhypher Armon would throw her way. There was no turning back now.