The hallway was quiet in the way large estates often were—too quiet, as though the walls themselves were listening. Low lamps along the corridor cast soft pools of amber light that barely reached the dark wooden doors lining the passage.
Dante stood before one of them, posture straight, shoulders squared. His uniform was immaculate, his expression unreadable. He raised his fist and knocked—three firm, deliberate strikes that echoed faintly through the corridor before fading into silence.
A moment passed.
The door opened.
Warm light spilled into the hallway, cutting sharply against the gloom. Leah stood framed in the doorway, dressed in soft loungewear, sleeves loose around her wrists. The warmth of her room clung to her, a sharp contrast to the chill outside. She leaned lightly against the door frame, studying Dante with polite curiosity.
"Hello, Dante," she said.
Dante inclined his head just enough to be respectful.
"Good evening, Miss Leah."
His voice was calm, measured. He did not step forward, did not let his gaze linger.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No," Leah replied, shaking her head. "It's fine."
Dante nodded once.
"Dinner is served downstairs."
"Thanks," she said, offering a small smile. "I'll be right there."
She stepped back into her room, fingers closing around the handle.
"Just need to change," she added softly.
The door closed with a quiet click.
Inside, Leah exhaled. The mansion still felt unfamiliar—too large, too formal, filled with rules she hadn't learned yet. She pulled a thick knit sweater over her loungewear, smoothing it down absently, then turned toward the door again.
When she stepped back into the hallway, she barely made it two steps before the sound came.
A heavy thud—dull, sudden, unmistakable.
Leah froze.
Her heart lurched as she turned toward the source of the noise. It had come from Izana's room.
"Izana?" she called, her voice cautious.
She moved closer, her hand hovering in the air as though unsure whether to knock. Her unease grew with every step.
"Izana?" she said again, louder this time.
No answer.
She leaned forward, pressing her ear against the door. Silence greeted her—too complete, too wrong.
"Izana? Are you okay?"
Her fingers curled around the handle. Whatever hesitation she had vanished.
"I'm coming in," she said firmly.
The door swung open.
Darkness swallowed her.
Leah stood silhouetted in the doorway, the corridor light stretching behind her. She reached blindly for the wall and found the switch.
The light snapped on.
The bed was empty. Sheets tangled, pillows displaced.
Her breath caught.
Then she saw him.
Izana lay on the floor behind the bed, partially hidden, his body curled inward. Leah rushed forward without thinking.
"Nngh…"
The sound tore from him, raw and broken.
"Fuck… it hurts…"
He was pale—ghostly pale. A white blindfold covered his eyes, tied tightly, stark against his skin. One hand clawed at his chest as his body trembled, breaths shallow and uneven.
Leah dropped to her knees beside him.
"Oh my god!"
She reached out—.
And he flinched violently.
"Don't touch me."
His voice was sharp, edged with panic and something colder. He scrambled backward, blindfolded face twisted in pain and terror, pressing himself against the wall as though trying to escape her.
Leah recoiled, her hands snapping back to her chest.
"I—I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Do you need medicine? Something for the pain?"
She gestured helplessly around the room.
Izana's breathing was ragged. Sweat slicked his skin as he raised a trembling finger, pointing toward the door.
"Get out," he said hoarsely. "Leave me alone!"
Leah shook her head, torn between fear and instinct.
"You're hurt. I can't just—."
"I SAID GET OUT!"
The shout was explosive, filling the room. Leah flinched hard, stumbling back as though struck. Izana curled inward again, shaking.
She scrambled to her feet and fled into the hallway, heart pounding.
The dining room was cavernous, the long black table stretching beneath a glittering chandelier. Elias sat alone at its head, eating with unhurried precision.
Leah burst in, breathless.
"Elias, something's wrong."
He looked up instantly, setting his cutlery aside.
"Leah? What is it?"
"It's Izana," she said, voice trembling. "He's on the floor. He's in agony."
She shook her head, disbelief written across her face.
"But he wouldn't let me help him. He… he lost it the second I got close."
Elias rose slowly, his expression heavy.
"Don't worry," he said quietly. "It's a side effect."
"…of the curse."
Her arms wrapped around herself.
"He screamed at me," she admitted.
Elias approached her, regret clear in his eyes.
"I should have warned you," he said. "Izana cannot tolerate physical touch."
She looked up sharply.
"Not even from me," he added.
Understanding washed over her, followed by relief so sudden it left her weak.
"Oh," she murmured. "I thought…"
She swallowed.
I thought he just hated me.
Elias turned toward the door.
"Come with me," he said gently. "You need to see how to handle this."
The bathroom was stark white marble, cold and clinical. Through the open bedroom door, Izana could still be seen on the floor.
Elias knelt by the vanity and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
Rows of amber bottles rattled softly.
"All of these are for him," Elias explained.
"Each treats a different symptom."
Leah stared, stunned.
"That's… so much medicine."
Elias lifted one bottle.
"Severe heart pain," he said. "The most dangerous side effect."
He tapped it lightly.
"The curse is attacking his heart right now. That's why he's panicked."
Back in the bedroom, Elias knelt at a careful distance.
"Izana. I've brought your medication."
A pale, trembling hand reached out. Two pills were taken and swallowed dry.
Elias rose and nodded to Leah.
They left.
In the hallway, Elias turned off the light and closed the door.
Leah stared at it.
"Is it okay to leave him like that?"
"I can't move him," Elias replied. "He'd rather suffer than be touched."
He sighed.
"Sometimes distance is mercy."
Leah nodded slowly.
"Come," Elias said. "Let's eat. He'll sleep once the pain fades."
She followed—still looking back once at the closed door.