Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This place was weird.

The neighborhood dogs didn’t bark and the children didn’t play outside. Y/n hadn't been greeted by her neighbors and fellow tenants, nor had she met anyone besides the landlord, who met with her begrudgingly. Not one soul had passed by her house since she had moved in a month prior.

Even though it looked and certainly felt abandoned, yards were still kept and the few cars in the area still departed in the morning and reappeared in the evening like clockwork. People clearly lived in the area, so where were they?

There was something not quite right about the town of Jules. It was too quiet.

She sighed. Y/n had figured that moving into a different area away from her parents would be relaxing. She'd saved and saved working at her little small town job back home in order to move out. She spent months researching cities and even other countries, but ultimately chose Jules; a mysterious town with a secret. She'd been curious, intrigued about Jules before she came, but the silence was eerie to her. Nothing ever seemed to change in the lifeless town, and it was driving her insane.

A thought crossed her mind for the thousandth time that week. What if the rumors about Jules were true?

Whispers about the town of Jules being home to a group of supernatural individuals had floated about Y/n's hometown for weeks before she began moving. Different theories were scattered between the residents, and though some were much more outrageous than others, they all implied the same idea.

Each spring, one townsperson would be selected to stay with the occupants of Jules Mansion, the goal being to murder each inhabitant within a year, exactly 365 days. When the offering inevitably failed to kill the monsters within the timeline, they would be slaughtered themselves the moment their time was up, or so it was said. So far, no one had actually witnessed any murders, found any bodies, or seen anyone enter or exit the mansion. The only real, known thing about it was that none of the missing townspeople ever returned.

No one Y/n asked had any idea what was going on.

She instantly regretted choosing Jules, but as expensive as the plane ticket was, she had no choice but to face her mistake. In attempts to ease her worries, she did a little research. ...Which did quite the opposite. Even if the gossip was a ploy to scare tourists coming in, the extensive missing persons' list she had found online wasn’t exactly welcoming. If anything, the tiny town of Jules could very well be home to a serial killer, rather than a gaggle of supernaturals. Somehow, Y/n felt that she would prefer living with a group of strangers as opposed to living alone within the area where a murderer—who possessed a mass amount of successful hits, considering the length of that record—resided.

Even though all of the hearsay whispered to her cowardice, she still had to see through to moving. Hence her current position; stuck in a shitty apartment a mere half-mile from a haunted mansion. With no job, no money, no friends.

And no way to get home.

The hushed aura of the town did make her wonder: who lived in that ancient building embedded in the side of the valley if not a handful of mystical creatures?

Breaking out of her thoughts, Y/n continued to craft her breakfast with utmost perfection (if you ignore the fried egg she almost burnt). It wasn't the most filling meal she could have, but it would do. All she needed now was the ingredients for her key way to making new friends: ice cream! Perhaps her new neighbors would be willing to talk to her if she brought a delicious treat along.

Y/n peered into the considerably empty fridge and was met with disappointment. No cream. Should she walk to the plaza only for cream, or save making ice cream for another day when she would have more items on her grocery list? She did need the exercise, and there might be some interesting shops she could explore while she was there.

"Maybe I could apply to one of the shops while I'm there," She muttered to herself. "At this rate I'll end up emptying my bank account when the time to pay rent rolls around."

She thought for another moment. Maybe there would be someone there that she could question about why the town was so unnervingly quiet? Someone had to know what the creepy silence was all about. She could ask them about the rumors and how true they were. Or where she should apply for a job. ...Or if she should consider investing in a plane ticket back home. Now her mind was made up.

She would go to the market.

Chapter Text

A few minutes after deciding to visit the marketplace downtown, Y/n began to excitedly get ready. She hadn’t gotten the chance to actually explore the little town since she had first moved into one of the apartments hugging the edge of the village. Though her earlier thoughts were still bothering her, Y/n couldn’t help but anticipate the trip downtown.

Meow.

A little noise cut between Y/n's thoughts, and she looked down to see the love of her life twisting around her legs.

"El gato~", Y/n cooed at her feline companion, his desperate venture to get an extra meal intensifying at the realization he was getting attention for his efforts. "You just ate, you gremlin!"

She pet the somewhat disgruntled cat, who now knew that his attempt to be rewarded a second breakfast had failed.

This gentleman is Milo, a somewhat large and fluffy gray cat Y/n acquired a few years before, when he had shown up in her backyard at around three years old, and announced his presence by yowling at the family dog—who has been terrified of him ever since. Though a saint to Y/n, Milo hated every other family member he met, hence why he tagged along with Y/n to move to her new apartment. She considered Milo to be her best friend and soulmate, just in the form of a very self-righteous cat.

Nudging Milo away and quickly choosing a comfortable shirt in a lovely shade of her favorite color, as well as a pair of  pants: it would be clear to any onlooker that Y/n's favorite color would be f/c. Soon after picking out her garments for the day, Y/n was as ready as could be in her very stylish attire, further matching with the bracelet her mother had given her a decade before, as well as other pieces of jewelry, all in a range of complimentary hues.

Gazing at herself in the mirror, Y/n grinned happily. It was time for the finishing touch!

Skillfully, Y/n pulled a few strands of her hair away from her face and behind her ears, pinning each side with a couple of plain clips that accentuated her cheeks. Then, she gave herself a last once-over. Perfect.

Soon after, she said goodbye to her trusty sidekick, headed out the door, and began her enthusiastic trek to the market area.

…And her excitement quickly faded. What Y/n had expected to be a bustling, elated marketplace full of buzzing residents was, in actuality, just as dull as the rest of the town. Were any of the shops even open?

Even more confused than she was before, Y/n stopped at one of the shops closest to her. “Trinkets and Timber”, the sign read. It seemed to be a knickknack store, while also serving as a place to buy firewood, perhaps? Either way, the store didn’t seem to be open.

Curious anyway, Y/n peeked through the dirtied window to see a menagerie of wooden toys, hanging pots, carvings, and one measly pile of wood in the corner of the tiny shop. As she looked, Y/n caught a glimpse of a figure sweeping the floor on one side of the heavily decorated shop. Suddenly, it seemed as though the person within the shop saw Y/n observing them, and swiftly exited the room through a door on the side.

Weird. Maybe she had surprised them? Still, she wondered why they hadn’t acknowledged her in some way, instead of rushing to another part of the building. Lost in her thoughts, Y/n almost missed a lone woman a little ways down the street, shoving things in boxes and bringing them inside a different shop. This one appeared to be a joint bookstore and novelty shop. Though, she couldn't quite make out the sign above the entryway; the wood looked to be rotting.

“Oh, hello ma’am!” Y/n called out to the woman, who reacted as though she had seen a bear. Eyes wide and frightened, the woman picked up her pace, setting various books into boxes so tattered that Y/n wondered how they would be able to contain the heaps of books. Snapping out of her distraction, Y/n spoke again.

“Ma’am! Could I ask you a question before you close up?”

The shopkeeper stared at her for a split second before snatching up another box with a grunt and rushing inside the shop once more.

“We’re closed! Go home!”, she enunciated, flinging her index finger at a sign toppled over on the ground. Upon seeing that it had fallen, the woman closed her eyes in exasperation before dropping the box to wrench the sign upright again.

“I understand, I just wanted to ask why all the shops are closed. It’s only noon on a Thurs-“

“Dear god, child. It’s best if you stay inside,” The woman whispered swiftly, yet not harshly. The fear in her voice worried Y/n. She watched at the woman began filling another box, this time with various ornaments and decorations that had been covering the table guarding the shop entrance.

“But... why?” The woman finally stopped what she was doing and turned to Y/n. If the look on her face didn’t scare her before, it sure did now.

“You shouldn’t draw attention to yourself here. Stay home, stay quiet, and hope that you aren’t selected. At this rate, you will be,” The woman warned tensely. Her worn hands shook as she started the seal the box tightly with tape. “It’s almost time for them to choose the next person to go.”

“To go? You don’t mean to the mansion do you?” The woman’s statement jabbed at Y/n's fight or flight instincts a little, causing her voice to start slightly higher. There was no way the rumors were true, right?

The woman flinched at her question, before quickly turning to Y/n's hesitant figure.

“Don’t- don’t talk about it so loudly, alright? Please,” She grabbed a box with surprising strength, and began hauling it inside the shop. “Come inside.”

Y/n slowly followed her through the shop door. After a gesture from the woman, Y/n then closed the door behind her.

“Ma’am, I-“

“You shouldn’t’ve come here. And I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. Should’ve minded my business like I used to!”

“What-“ Y/n stared at the woman in shock.

The shopkeeper set the box on a small pile of teetering books in the corner of the room as she continued her spiel.

“You can’t be new here. No one and no thing can be out of place in this town. All moving here has done for you is put a target across your back. You shouldn’t’ve come.”

At that, the woman’s voice wobbled a bit before breaking into a small, broken sob.

“They’re going to choose you. They’re going to choose you to go.”

Y/n could feel wetness start to pool in the corners of her eyes in response to the woman’s sudden emotion. The sheer amount of pain in this woman’s words and face shook her to the core, erasing any thought she might’ve had about the tale of Jules Mansion being only rumors.

“I- I thought-“

"They took my boy two years ago. They took my wife's cousin the year after that. And now, they're going to choose you. I know it." Fat, relentless tears slid down the shopkeeper's face as she lost control.

"Mo-" Y/n stopped herself. For an instant she was reminded of her mother when she would get upset, and nearly addressed the woman in accordance. "Ma'am plea-"

The woman interrupted once again.

“Why move here? Of all places, one that holds this damned CURSE!” She erupted, her hands flailing in emotional unison with every sentence she spoke. At the movement of her arms, the papers stacked so carefully upon the desk behind her danced erratically across the floor.

The lump in Y/n's throat grew at seeing the anguish in this woman’s little, aged body. She had never seen someone so devastated over a stranger’s potential fate. A few moments passed with the shopkeeper grasping her head in her hands and breathing wildly in panic, all the while Y/n attempted to grapple her thoughts and feelings. Then, Y/n tried once more.

“Is there any way at all to stop it? To escape being chosen?”

The woman gave one more shudder before letting her arms fall to her side, as she turned to face the person whose death date she foresaw.

And as Y/n met the eyes of the woman terrified for an outsider’s life, she already knew the answer.

Chapter Text

After that, Y/n returned to the apartment in a daze. Struggling with the key to open the creaky door of her new home, she met the eyes of a neighbor wearily watering a half-dead garden pot on their porch. The middle aged man immediately turned back to his wilting flowers, acting as if he had never looked up. Y/n continued to watch him as he fidgeted. Then, he seemed to have made a split-second decision and headed back inside the small home.

At that, Y/n realized what had been going on. It wasn’t just the shopkeeper who predicted she would be chosen, but the entire population of Jules. She was the reason people barely exited their homes. She was why it was so agonizingly quiet. She was the reason the whole time.

They all knew. And no one had cared enough to tell her.

Y/n felt sick. A month. A month she had spent trying to contact her neighbors, trying to make new friends, and every resident avoided her like the plague. Now, she knew, in order to ensure that she would meet the fate that others had, so no local would.

In a way, she felt betrayed, but she also knew she could not blame them. How long had these people suffered and dreaded each spring, when a loved one could be taken from them at any moment? It made sense to outcast new faces, both to avoid getting attached, and to avoid being chosen themselves.

But it still hurt to know that they were willing to sacrifice her.

Mrrr?

Y/n's unfocused eyes switched from the door the man had entered to the cat spying through the cracked open entry.

“Milo.” She croaked. What would happen to Milo when she would be forced to go to the mansion, when she would die? Would the townspeople abandon him as they did her?

Why did she move here?

The thought jabbed her suddenly, as she ignored her cat nudging the door open wider to rub at her ankles worriedly.

Why had she moved here?

She couldn’t remember.

And then, the dam broke, and panic set in.

She couldn’t remember.

Why couldn’t she remember?

Her sharp breathing escalated to distressed gasping.

How? How would she survive this? And if she did by some miracle, would she be in one piece? She could imagine herself, winning somehow, littered in bruises and cuts and burns. Missing limbs. Bent and broken beyond repair. Unrecognizable.

She could visualize all the horrible ways she could die, or worse. How far would they go?

As she struggled to breathe, tears cascaded down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Soon, all her thoughts faded, and all she knew was panic. Helplessly, she sobbed loudly. Milo, very concerned about his only friend, though spoiled and somewhat self-centered, knew exactly what he had to do.

Grasping the ankle area of his owner’s pant leg, he tugged Y/n inside the apartment to the best of his ability, and managed to pull her to the floor. And that was where she sat and cried to her furry savior for the rest of the evening.

When Y/n awoke the next morning, she expected the tight dry skin of her face, and puffiness all over. What she didn’t expect was a knock on the door.

There was no way that they were here for her already. She hadn’t had enough time to process yet, to decide what to do about her cat, her apartment, her belongings!

How could it be so soon?

“Um, hello?”

A muffled voice pushed through the apartment door.

“Is this Y/n L/n's apartment? My name is Aria, from Jules Post. I have a package here, but the instructions on it say I have to give it directly to you?”

What? Would the summons to a death trap be sent by common post? Y/n had envisioned several times that a couple of tall and scary men would inform her, not a letter.

Realizing she had paused for too long, Y/n picked herself off of the rug she had fitfully fallen asleep on that previous night.

“Coming, right now.” she tripped over her words, throat hoarse and sore from the night before. She didn’t dare look in the mirror as she passed it to greet the post-person.

“H-hi! So nice to meet you. This is your package? I mean, you’re L/n Y-, OH, I’m so sorry! You’re Y/n L/n, right…?”

The perkiness in this person’s voice did not hide their nervousness in the slightest, Y/n noticed. Nor, did it hide the fact that they wouldn't meet Y/n's eyes. In their hands sat a small cardboard box, not unlike the frayed ones the shopkeeper from yesterday used. A little gem of hope entered Y/n's mind, before clearing her throat to speak.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me. Who is- who is it from?”

“Ah. Oh, it’s from Mrs. Rogue, the owner of Romance the House. Were you expecting a package from her?”

“No, I wasn’t,” Y/n said simply. “I guess I’ll take it though. Are you sure it’s for me?” She couldn’t help but still be a bit hesitant about the package. What if it was some sort of code, and a package from this "Mrs. Rogue" meant it was a summons to Jules Mansion?

“Yep! Says your name right here. Hope you like whatever it is. See you late- Uh. Yeah, see you later, maybe!” The mail person quickly trotted off to the next house before Y/n could reply.

“I feel like that was kind of harsh,” Y/n muttered under her breath as she returned to the furniture-less floor. “But whatever.”

Time for the moment of truth, to open the package. Mentally, Y/n attempted to prepare herself to see the message she fears it will be. Milo sat beside her, resting his face against the side of her hip in show of support.

“Oh god, alright,” she mumbled to herself. "Get it over with."

Then, she opened the box.

Chapter Text

Lifting the beige wax paper sheathing the contents of the box revealed not only a letter, but some meticulously wrapped parcels as well. Three in total.

Had the woman from the bookshop, Mrs. Rogue, really sent ...a gift?

Y/n stared at the packages for awhile, almost expecting them to disappear at any second, only to procure a far more terrifying message. But, the packages, being inanimate objects, remained stationary.

This was not at all what Y/n had expected. A terrible letter? Yes. Threats from villagers? Maybe a little. But a gift, from a stranger nonetheless? Not at all. Puzzled, Y/n turned to the letter resting atop the small parcels for answers.

‘Dear Y/n,’ the letter read. ‘I am very sorry for the rude awakening I gave you yesterday. It was not my intention to drive you off the way I did.’

“That’s a good start,” Y/n spoke aloud with a snort, then continued to read.

‘I’m writing to you now as both an apology, and to hopefully help you if you are chosen.’

Now that peaked her interest. Did she consider Y/n to be capable of ending the curse of Jules?

‘I have provided three items for you that I think will give you a better chance at surviving Jules Mansion.

The first is a switchblade my son crafted before he was taken to the mansion. It may look worn to you, but it is the sturdiest knife I have ever owned. It never seems to become dull.

The second is a bottle of snakeroot concentrate. The herbalist I bought it from mentioned that it is created by making a syrup with snakeroot leaves and flowers. It is very poisonous, and very deadly. I wish I could’ve bought more for you, but this vial was all I could afford. Please use it wisely.

Finally, I decided that I would leave my pride and joy to you. The third and largest package I have sent should not be opened quite yet. I don’t know if it will work or what exactly it will do, but I suggest you only open it if it is your very last option.

I know it seems odd for me to send you these things, but you must understand that I want this curse to fade as badly as you do. I don’t intend to see any more of my family members be taken away. I really do think that you will be able to do this. For some reason, I genuinely believe it.

Please take care of yourself. I hope to meet you again someday, preferably in better circumstances.’

Sincerely,

Gloria Rogue

Mouth slightly agape in a mixture of bewilderment and slight offense, Y/n glanced over each package. In one corner, a tiny, rectangular bundle covered in viridescent gift paper. In the corner beside it, a relatively square shaped parcel in a very shimmery, brown swathe. In the other third of the box rested what was obviously the knife, long and thin. This gift was encased in an impressive, gray leather knife sheathe. Not only were they carefully packaged, but beautifully packaged as well. Mrs. Rogue certainly had a knack for decorating, and completely understood complementary colors.

A knife, poison, and a thoughtfully decorated lump of who knows what.

Could she really wipe out a union of supers with just that?

Maybe not, Y/n admitted to herself, but at this point she might as well try. Though her mental breakdown had exhausted her to the core, it had also reminded her that she would much prefer to go down with a fight rather than die quietly. Quietly, she observed the presents for a minute. Would they help her?

A new light entered Y/n's resigned eyes. Maybe she could win this messed up game, if she played her cards right. Sudden adrenaline zapping through her bloodstream, she rose to her feet quickly, startling the goblin dosing off on the sunlit windowsill beside her.

"Sorry Milo," Y/n said hastily, stepping over the abandoned goodie box on the carpet. Though it was tempting to open the mysterious third package, Y/n decided against it. If it turned out to be something like an explosive or grenade, she would end up killing herself as well as her precious cat. Instead, she would wisely take Mrs. Rogue's advice and leave it be, that is, until she needed to use it. Hopefully, Y/n thought, she'd be able to leave the mansion alive if she made enough preparations. Protect herself, and her compact friend.

"Traps," she voiced. "Weapons. Get the upper hand, somehow." An idea crossed her mind as she paced diligently.

What if she tried to befriend the creatures within the mansion? Be cautious at first, so they don't become suspicious, but warm up to them shortly. Be genuine, kind. Learn their weaknesses, faults, debilities. Try to know them from the inside out and become someone they can trust. She could make it seem like she would be dying soon anyway, from a sickness. Cancer, or chronic illness.

And then she would take advantage of their eventual acceptance, and tear up the rug from underneath each one of them.

She could do it, she knew. She could pull the strings, bend the metal, and ultimately escape from Jules Mansion, being the first and last to exit the house.

"Yes!" She whooped. She could do this! She would survive the curse of Jules, and live her life like she had hoped. She would be able to return to Mrs. Rogue's wonderful shop and see the look on her face as she realized that Y/n had severed the noose wrapped tightly around Jules's neck. She would get a lovely job that paid her well enough without overworking her, and give Milo all the treats the little man wanted! It would be amazing to witness the faces of relieved townspeople, overjoyed at their newfound freedom.

Then, her fresh energy dimmed a little.

What if they killed her right away, giving her no chance to change her fate?

No: she decided. There was no reason they would do so so early into the year. After all, it was each spring that a new sacrifice would be selected; not each day. Maybe they weren't as strong as the village seemed to think? Or...

Could it be possible that they didn't want to kill sacrifices?

Chapter Text

Y/n didn’t dwell over that thought for very long. After all, there was a lot of preparing to do in order to ensure she could make it out of Jules Mansion alive. It was only the third of April, just the beginning of spring. She still had time, didn’t she?

It had been a week since she'd received the letter from Mrs. Rogue, and since then, she'd had several more conversations with her through mail. The surprising quickness of the Jules postoffice was very useful in her quest for more information. She had found out a great deal about Jules Mansion and its plague, thanks to the shopkeeper’s efforts to help.

She wished.

In actuality, nobody knew anything. Getting any history or other vital information about Jules Mansion from the locals was like pulling teeth. It was insane. How could the residents, many of which had lived in Jules for over a decade, know next to nothing about the giant mansion looming over the town?? She had no idea.

But what she did know sure was interesting.

At some point mid-spring, she would receive a scarlet letter with only her name printed on it. The instructions inside would request for her to be just outside the entrance to the estate by a certain time, either that day or the very next, where a guide would await her presence. So far, Mrs. Rogue stated in her second letter, not one person had seen the guide before, though she suspected it could very well be one of the mansion’s residents.

Speaking of the residents, in terms of information about them, there was even less known. From what Mrs. Rogue and other townspeople had guessed, there could be as few as two, and as many as ten inhabitants. Whether they were men, women, or identified otherwise, the locals had no clue. Upon hearing that, Y/n grew more concerned about her chances of escaping the curse. There could be ten people she had to worry about, or even more if the townspeople were wrong about their hunches.

“That’s terrifying,” she confessed to herself. There was so much that could go wrong with her plan to survive; she hadn’t even favored in how many supernaturals she would have to deal with.

She just hoped that it would work out.

Scooping her cat onto her lap, she fell into her thoughts again. How had these supposedly mystical beings been trapped? How eager would they be to kill her? How powerful?

And what exactly were they? A coven of vampires, a pack of werewolves, a mixture of various creatures? The possibilities were endless.

One might wonder at the unfazed approach Y/n took toward the idea of magical beings floating about the earth, but actually... it was common knowledge.

The town of Jules is but a small town on the outskirts of the country called “Isle”. And in fact, peculiar creatures are not unheard of there. It isn’t surprising to hear of the arrest of a pixie, or the murder of spirit (ironically), but it is a disheartening reality. Isle, a country that prides itself as an advocate for justice, chooses to actively persecute the existence of the supernatural.

Y/n thought it was horrible. So, considering the town of Jules most likely had a taste for supernatural blood like the rest of the country, there was a high chance that the captives of Jules Mansion did not want to hurt her. There was also a high chance that they did not plan on dying anytime soon as well.

She let out a long sigh. It almost seemed hopeless. No matter what the situation turned out to be, it would be insanely complicated for both her and her new housemates. She could only dream that they’d leave her to her own devices. Then, she could scheme her escape alone.

On the bright side, she pondered, if they weren’t willing to murder her, they probably wouldn’t be up for shanking her precious Milo either.

Slumping off the side of the couch she had been sitting on, she laid on the carpet for a moment, as Milo immediately started to venture over her back, to nap upon the nape of Y/n's neck. Finding the perfect position surprisingly quick for such a lazy feline, he commenced to purr in content.

“Milo,” Y/n complained, her voice muffled. Perhaps her cat would kill her before some super frat or sorority members could. Thinking, she reached around to poke the ferocious tiger sleeping upon her head. In response, he halfheartedly fended her off with a soft paw.

They could be anything. There were an estimated hundred different types of supernatural beings within Isle, each varying in ability, strength, and how dangerous they are. The impact on her health would differ greatly based on what they were.

Somewhere between the establishment of Isle’s first city, and the creation of capitalism, the line between dangerous beings and beings just trying to fit in became blurred. Any human could be a persecutor, and anyone who wasn’t could be persecuted. “For the safety of naturals,” privileged government officials said. It was all bullshit.

It was really about power. Greedy people with the world at their feet couldn't stand to think that there were beings more capable than them. The hungry media agreed. Myths blown out of proportion. Ancient fairy tales exposed. Stories were "revealed".

...And the stories spread. Soon the media was backed by thousands, millions, and the “Clause for the Protection of Humankind” was founded.

Werewolves. Creatures who become a hybrid betwixt a wolf and a monster in the night. They were turned against first, and both prisons and mass graves were soon full of them after the enactment of the CPH. Then went vampires and ghouls. Sirens and imps. The Fae and trolls. Elves, centaurs. The law went from being able to protect yourself without legal repercussion against a supernatural being, to being able to bully, harass, injure, or kill any mythological creature without a slap on the wrist.

There was no mercy for those who couldn’t defend themselves. The thought of all those people being subject to imprisonment and brutal death gave Y/n nightmares some days.

This was the only world she had ever known, and she hated it. The disrespect and cruelty humans showed to innocent beings of super races disgusted her and her parents to the bone. But since they were not lawmakers, and couldn’t afford to send Y/n to college for a higher education in hopes of changing things, there was almost nothing they could do but occasionally take in supernaturals on the run.

She would never forget when the police showed up at her neighbor’s porch several years before, and dragged the kind man out by his feet. He had been harboring a Mer in his bathtub for two weeks, who was soon heaved uncaringly through the door as well. The pleads and shrieking still tormented Y/n. She hadn’t seen either of them since.

The memory of that night zapped her directly in the heart, her eyes welling up easily. Briskly, she shook her head in attempts to forget, accidentally dumping the now annoyed Milo off of his comfy spot.

“Sorry baby,” Y/n said, giving him a pat before leaning back down again to readjust her setting. After awhile, she got up again, restless.

She had done nothing productive or active since she had first talked to Mrs. Rogue and gotten the news. Absolutely nothing.

The dishes were piled in the sink, the laundry undone, her bed unmade. And she still didn’t have an ounce of cream. Y/n grumbled under her breath. All she had been eating while researching the mansion through Mrs. Rogue were jelly sandwiches, because guess what? She had no peanut butter either.

It was time to do something. Anything.

“Oh!” the exclamation escaped her lips at her realization. How could she forget to write to her parents? They would go insane at the thought of her being trapped in a house for the next year with people she didn’t know, super or not.

Nearly tripping over herself to get to the box where she had been storing a variety of pretty cards and envelopes, she grabbed at a lovely fuchsia and parchment duo.

She scribbled a paragraph containing one or two ‘don’t worry about me’s, and ‘there’s a chance I won’t be coming home’s, taking care not to mention supers were involved in the chance that someone other than her parents would read the letter. It was soon finished. Ending with her signature and a doodle of a grumpy Milo, Y/n shoved the card into its envelope and completed the package with her and her parents' addresses.

Now all she needed to do is go down to the postoffice, and hand the letter to Aria or whoever else was there today. As it turned out, the timid post person had very little against Y/n, and was just very, very nervous about meeting the next offering. They were actually very nice after seeing her so much for the past week.

Because Y/n prized her ability to make things aesthetically pleasing, as well as her privacy, she excitedly brought out her colorful waxes and stamps to seal the letter’s opening. A deep pinkish purple would do nicely with the creamy envelope, as well as match with the fuchsia interior. Sealing it skillfully, it was time to head to the post office.

Walking animatedly to the door, she didn’t hear the footsteps stopping at the very same entrance from the outside.

Swinging the door open, Y/n gasped as she almost hit a figure, who managed to dodge as they backed away to avoid being hit, revealing a dead silent Aria.

“AH, I’m so sorry Aria! I almost hit you,“ Y/n sputtered as she slowly opened the door the rest of the way, without Aria in its path. “Is there another letter from Mrs. Rogue?”

Then she paused. Aria still hadn’t said anything, standing there more steadily than they ever had before, wide eyed and regretful. Her eyes started to glimmer, and tears began to slide down her face in large, mournful droplets.

“Aria, wha-,” Y/n said, nonplussed. “Are you alright?? What happened? Did someone yell at-“. And then she saw it, eyes instantly fixed upon what they held.

Grasped tightly in Aria's trembling hands was a crimson letter.

Chapter Text

It took Y/n a moment to process what she was seeing as Aria continued to cry in front of her. The tears pouring from her eyes dappled the small letter within her clutch.

“Y/n,” Aria sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I have to deliver it to you.”

Another moment. Y/n gaped at the letter. Such a beautiful, foreboding color. The same hue as a gorgeous red poppy. Or freshly spilled blood.

Her eyes grew with a sudden pang of devastation. A tiny part of her had still been hoping that she would never receive the letter. That someone else would. A name and face she did not know. She should’ve known that would be too good to be true.

A split second was all it took for Y/n to come back to her senses.

“Aria,” she enunciated, putting as much emphasis on her words as she could, to break the small mailperson from her state of grief. “Aria, I’m going to live.”

Aria hiccuped once more and looked at her. Though they had spent a good portion of the previous week talking to each other over Y/n's letters to and from Mrs. Rogue, Y/n had never taken the time to tell her about her theories and plan.

She had also never really taken the time to appreciate their presence, Y/n acknowledged.

Aria was the vision of the word ‘sweet’. Her eyes curved downward at the outer corners, and her full lips. Their hair is always fluffed in a fitting fro. One of Aria’s pastimes, Y/n had learnt days before, is to mix and match hair clips of varying shapes and sizes. Her lips glossed, her eyebrows furry. They were angular in every way but their hair and attitude. Y/n took this all in note, trying to memorize how Aria appeared to her before continuing her explanation. Who knew? They may never meet again.

“Haven’t you noticed? If the creatures were killing every offering as soon as they arrived, this would be happening a lot more often than once a year, right?”

Aria opened her mouth, and then closed it in thought, gently wiping her wet face. “I- I guess I haven’t thought about that.”

“Right!” Y/n leaned forward, excitement about her found knowledge renewed. “I don’t think they want to kill their “guests”. The curse is what kills at the end of the year, because the chosen couldn’t kill the other residents!”

Aria moved toward Y/n in return, becoming more invested in Y/n's idea.

“Maybe they don’t want to be there,” Aria theorized. “I bet they were trapped by someone!” Y/n gasped at the notion.

“You’re right,” she said, her voice hushed. “Why are they there?”

“Who cursed them?” Aria added, equally as quiet.

“And why did they bring Jules into it?”

“Revenge…?” Aria spoke slowly. “No, hatred. They must have something against supers.”

They paused for a second, before they inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” Y/n questioned.

Aria pursed her lips for a while silently, debating with herself mentally. She started, and then stopped again, before seeming to come to a decision.

“Do you know anything about why people outside of Jules don't know much about us?” They spoke hesitantly.

“I don’t,” Y/n replied. Aria started to fidget.

“How do you feel about supernaturals?”

At that, Y/n became equally as cautious. Talking about supernaturals in any light was like treading on thin ice. You had no idea what answer would keep you dry, or send you under. It was extremely dangerous to take a gamble on someone’s person living in the country of Isle. Anything you say could cause you to end up dead. But, Y/n had to take a chance. She had gotten this far with Aria, she had to try and trust them.

“They- um,” How could she word this without angering Aria, if she didn’t support supernatural rights?

“They’re just... people. I don’t understand why the government is hunting supernatural people who have done nothing wrong,” Y/n said tentatively, searching Aria’s face for any sign of disagreement.

“Thank god,” Aria sighed in relief. “I was worried you’d think otherwise.”

“But what does that have to do with the history of Jules?” Y/n inquired, just as comforted by Aria’s response as they felt by hers.

“Oh N/n, Jules was a sanctuary,” Aria breathed. “Over half of the population consisted of creatures. It was lovely, I’ve been told. There wasn’t a single person who wouldn’t put their life at stake to protect someone, super or not. Jules was so lively.”

Then she sobered a little.

“The curse started just a couple months after Isle’s government changed, and became anti-super. So, about 7 years ago. I was too little to know much about what was going on, but I would hear my parents talk about it sometimes.”

They paused.

“That was when they started “disappearing”, the super residents. Somehow, Jules had been infiltrated by someone hateful, who began ratting out supernatural families. They must have had some contact in law enforcement, because the police sure showed up quickly to arrest all of those poor people,” She took a moment to wipe at her reddened eyes.

“From what I heard, the last creatures left in Jules, six people I think, made an attempt out of desperation to kill the guy selling out half of the town but… it didn’t work.”

Another pause. “They…” Aria cleared her throat.

“They actually disappeared after that. No one saw them being arrested or anything, or murdered. It was like they stopped existing.”

Y/n saw where she was going.

“Could they be the supernaturals in Jules Mansion?”

They both stared at each other before speaking again in unison.

“Oh my god.”

Eventually, after around ten minutes more of scheming and speculating together, Aria had to return to the post office to continue her shift. As they said their goodbyes, neither of them could help but cry a little more. But alas, both had other things to do. Aria had to work, and Y/n had to open a letter.

“It’s possible that this whole mess is a tactic to turn Jules anti-super. But whoever caused this has zero regard for anyone’s life at all. Please be as careful as you can,” Aria had warned before she made her way back to her office. Y/n had agreed wholeheartedly, and waved a final goodbye.

Heading back into her apartment, Y/n took the time to grab a letter opener, scooped up her emotional support feline, and took a seat once again on the floor.

“Oh boy,” she grumbled, looking at the striking letter in reserve. “Time to die, maybe.”

‘Y/n L/n’ the letter read in well-practiced cursive. Tearing the seal with begrudging carefulness—she didn’t want to accidentally rip anything important—she was presented with the letter, which was just as red as the envelope.

‘You are to meet your guide at the main entrance of Jules Mansion at 4 pm sharp. In the case that are not present in the meeting area at the allocated time, you will be located and transferred accordingly.’

At least it was straightforward.

“Be there or get kidnapped,” Y/n mocked. “How nice of them.”

She glanced at the clock, and her eyes bugged out a little in panicked surprise. It was already 3. How had time flown by so quickly??

She had to pack.

Y/n shot up from her spot on the floor, sending a confused Milo rolling, and began grabbing at things to take with her.

Shirts, pants, skirts, plant—check. What else would she need?

Milo’s things! She snatched up a small bag of litter, his box, his favorite cat bed. Then his treats, toys, kibble, and his food and water bowls. Stuffing it all into a suitcase she had laying around; there was still a small amount of room left.

The gifts from Mrs. Rogue, she recalled. Carefully, Y/n picked each gift out of the box they had come in, and gently placed them within the case as well. Zipping the bag with some of the essentials in it, it was time to grab a backpack for a few more personal items. Personal hygiene products including her toothbrush and toothpaste, haircare, and a couple sticks of deodorant: she would need all of this.

Suddenly, she realized her apartment would likely stay unattended for awhile before the landlord would send her other belongings home, like she had asked him a day prior. Luckily, since post fees in Jules were so cheap, she did not require much payment to convince the landlord to do so.

Quickly, she opened the fridge, pulling out food and water bottles. The food would spoil after awhile, so she would just throw it away now, though she couldn’t help but stuff a few snacks into her backpack as she did so. The waters, she threw into one of the boxes that still littered her apartment.

Gazing around the room, Y/n noticed her lesser-used keychain resting on a hook of the broken coatrack by the door. Upon it was a small taser she had nearly forgotten about. Whether it still worked or not, she had no idea.

She might need that, Y/n concluded, seizing it as well, and stuffing it into her bag atop her delicious snacks.

What else? Taking a final look around the room, she almost missed the picture of her, her parents, and her childhood dog placed lovingly on her bed table. Milo had refused to be in that picture, but at least he would be with her at the mansion. She took a moment to take the image in, before picking it up and setting in gingerly inside the now very full backpack.

She would miss them. But at least, she reminded herself, she would have Milo.

Speaking of the little devil, he was curled up comfortably in her newly opened bag of clothes and gifts, ready to go.

“Sneaky gremlin,” Y/n muttered.

It was time to head out, Y/n accepted, getting a glimpse of the clock once again. So, with her backpack on her shoulders, suitcase in one hand and cat in the other, she set out to the mansion.

This had to be the place, Y/n took in. Though it was somewhat worn down and unkept, the mansion had an odd beauty to it; like it had stories to tell and memories to recall.

The iron wrought fence definitely had some history to it at least, vines of what she assumed to be ivy spanning its entire length. Some of the vines seemed to be hiding drapes of jasmine and honeysuckle though, the floral scent filling her senses. This was confirmed quickly when she saw a few blossoms shaded by the larger ivy leaves at the top of the railing.

If she squinted, she could make out a translucent sort of shimmer in the air, drifting just above the fence. Perhaps that was why people couldn’t climb the fairly short barrier, and why the inhabitants could not seem to leave the premises. Interesting.

Lost in her thoughts for a bit, Y/n observed a garden just past the fence, primarily on side of the house, but adjoining the entering path as well. Contrary to the main building and fence line, the garden beds were well taken care of. She spotted several kinds of happy vegetables growing, including an enormous zucchini plant, flowers bursting from between its giant prickly leaves; soon to become delicious squash.

Behind that bed was what appeared to be an herb patch. Staring, she made out small bushes of rosemary, budding sage, and some tall sprigs of what was either parsley or cilantro. The other herbs in the herb bed were too far away to recognize, she discerned disappointedly, adjusting Milo in her arm up to her shoulder so he could take in their surroundings as well.

It was clear that the garden was very loved by the residents. Somehow, the great care taken to produce such beautiful plants made her feel better about living with a handful of strangers. Distracted in her examination of the property, Y/n failed to notice the crunching of leaves and the slight whine of the front gate opening.

“Hello my dear Y/n M/n L/n!” A man materialized in front of her, enunciating a dramatic pause between each word of her name.

“JESU-,” Y/n exclaimed loudly, almost dropping her equally alarmed cat, caught very off guard by this person’s sudden entrance. She did not dare to question how he knew her full name.

Dressed in a stunning vermilion suit bedazzled with cherry buttons and a long tie as black as his formal shoes, this person simply could not be overlooked in any case.

“And her furry fiend as well!” The man continued. “I do hope it has manners,” he sniffed. Y/n did not respond to this, too bewildered to answer.

Just as extravagant as his attire, the man’s expensive sunglasses veiling his eyes and neatly parted platinum hair matched his brightness. With a polite but unnerving smile, he reopened the gate, beckoning her to follow him through the garden.

Checking her watch, she noted that it was exactly 4 o’clock sharp as she hurried behind the peculiar man.

Stopping at the front door, the man swiveled to look down at her, being quite tall. His blank look drilled itself into her mind. After a blink of surprise from Y/n, the man’s face was fixed back into the false smile from before.

“Are you… one of the residents?” She asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“No,” he stated gleefully, smile growing into a startling grin, his perfectly straight teeth unreal and disturbing. His voice became darker and more foreboding.

“I’m the ringmaster.”

Chapter Text

All she could do was gawk at him for awhile.

“I have genuinely no idea what that means,” Y/n retorted in disbelief.

The man’s amusement dimmed momentarily, letting out a soft scoff as he reached for the doorknob, grasping it firmly but not yet turning it.

“Of course you don’t. No one knows who runs this gig but me, and those pests just waiting for a chance to slit my throat,” the man muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. “I would be very ashamed of myself if you did. Very, very ashamed.”

“But now you have the pleasure of meeting me! Quite the lucky contestant, you are. Only once have I escorted a contender to the stage before! And that, my love, was just a fluke.”

His entire spiel was marked with broad movements from the hand not holding the unmoving doorknob. This person was all about dramatics it seemed: the unhinged kind.

“I had no employees that year! Granted, I was the one who fired them all. Who knew they would complain so much about receiving minimum wage when all they have to do is escort someone to certain death once a year? Ridiculous.”

He tilted his head at her in another unpredictable mood swing, analyzing her like he wondered how she would taste roasted over an open fire. The next second, he was amiable again.

“But, oh ho! This year is a special one.”

At this point, Y/n had registered that the man before her was likely the root of Jules’s curse. Eager to hear more, she encouraged him to monologue.

“Why is it a special year?” Y/n questioned, trying to act casually interested.

“Because of you, of course.” The man poked her between the eyes with a strangely sharp nail. As his hand pulled away from her face, a small bead of blood dribbled from the spot he had jabbed. Y/n took a cautious step back.

“…Oops,” he said innocently, sunglasses gleaming unapologetically. “So sorry.”

A low rumble left the cat bristling in Y/n's arms. Though Milo was not a fan of most people, he was never aggressive; only giving Y/n's family and the occasional visitor the cold-shoulder. The last time Y/n had heard Milo growl like that, she had found him standing off with a starving coyote she had suspected to be rabid in the backyard.

It would be clear to any viewer that the coyote was beyond saving. Deranged and very dangerous.

Y/n got the sense that this man was far more of a threat than the group she was about to meet. She needed to be more wary of anything she said or did, and tread carefully.

“What-,” Y/n cleared her throat. “What makes me special compared to others in the past?”

The man’s goofiness completely left him at her inquiry. All of a sudden, he looked much taller than before, the change in atmosphere sending uneasy shivers up and down her spine. The thought of making a break for it and running away from the man left as fast as it arrived. She had a feeling he would catch her very quickly if she tried to escape.

“I don’t know,” he stared daggers into her soul. “But it better not be what I think is different about you.” Y/n was frozen, unable to respond in fear.

Consciousness struck her. She should think about working with the manor habitants, taking the alternative of attempting to kill this man instead of them. Would the curse be broken if this man died instead of her or the residents?

In a flash, the man’s demeanor was as it was when he first disturbed her at the mansion gate. Brightly, he put a hand behind Y/n's back to guide her through the door he finally opened, ushering her to the doorstep.

There he paused. Y/n gasped as he gripped her shoulder tightly, unquestionably leaving a nasty bruise to bloom.

“You should hope that you have a similar fate as those before you,” he whispered venomously into her ear, the threat echoing through her, before shoving her through the entryway. The door slammed loudly behind her.

After gathering her bearings for what seemed like an hour but was actually only a few minutes, Y/n finally comprehended that she was in the dim entryway of Jules Mansion.

It was gorgeous. The wooden floors were a rich cedar color, all the boards aligned perfectly, except where they met in an interesting pattern combined with some birch colored floorboards just before the staircase in front of her, to the left.

Speaking of the staircase, it matched most of the floor with long, smooth handrails lining the elegant stairs. Above the center of the staircase hung a complex chandelier, made out of a brassy gold material. Perched upon the candle-holders of the chandelier were seven or so interesting candles, all bulbous and in a cool toned blue. A softly radiant lamp sat atop an antique bedside table adorned in painstakingly done carvings. There it stood in the corner of the room, the lamp doing its best to light up the area surrounding it.

Stuck in place while admiring the decadence of the mansion, Y/n almost missed when a tall frame stomped through a doorway on the other side of the space.

“Who the fuck slammed a door? Izuma is actually going to kill you for being so loud when the damn guest is coming, so have fun with th-,” The irritated voice of a man with wild, ashy hair interrupted her thoughts, startling her.

He stopped himself from continuing, staring at her intensely, seeming just as surprised as Y/n was. His mouth opened a little, taking in the bag on her shoulder, the suitcase beside her, and her arms still clutching a fluffed-up feline. Y/n stared back, both dumbstruck and still somewhat in shock from her earlier encounter with the extravagant man, whose name she had not learned.

After a brief staring contest, the man moved. Fidgeting, he grabbed at his mane and looped a strand on his finger, an interestingly soft gesture for someone who looked otherwise feral.

Abruptly, he turned to the doorway he had come through and yelled through it.

“AYE I’M NOT PLAYING WELCOME COMMITTEE BY MYSELF! GET DOWN HERE!”

And in what felt like an instant, the once almost empty entree of the mansion became bustling with a group of very intriguing people. There was a total of five men standing before her, all in varying degrees of excitement—or lack there of—at Y/n's presence. A couple of them talked to each other quietly as they all observed Y/n.

“We should wait until Sylvi gets here,” A dark-haired person at least a foot and a half taller than Y/n announced. “So we don’t have to repeat anything.”

The gathering muttered in agreement.

As they stood in a vague circle waiting, Y/n took the time to observe the individuals she would be living with.

First, she gazed at the man who discovered her at the front door. He was quite tall and still seemed sort of angry, like his eyebrows were always furrowed and his jaw was permanently tightened. It didn’t diminish the beauty the man had, admittedly. Narrow aureate eyes paired with shapely lips made for a striking combination, and his fiercely untamed hairdo awed her a little. An oddly sharp tooth poked out of one side of his mouth as he stood in thought, grumpily. Almost caught ogling, she pivoted her gaze to the person next to him.

This person was fairly slim, and looked a little younger than the other residents. Their face was stoic, and their skin was almost lifeless to the point of being tinged gray, she noticed. They seemed to want to leave, swaying a bit in place. Looking like they might excel in ballet, their thin lips, angular cheeks, and cool eyes only further convinced her of that notion. Their sleek hair and eyes both happened to be a deep grey, and they were only a couple inches taller than her. This time, she accidentally made eye contact, which they tried to hold, but Y/n swiftly looked at the person next to them.

This person immediately met Y/n's eyes, and sent her a friendly wave in accordance. His hair was insanely curly and straw blonde. A few things made his face distinct: a golden septum piercing, two ear piercings on each side, and a small scar marring his left eyebrow. His gently rounded amber eyes saddened her, looking as though he had grown up too young. As an afterthought, she waved back, taken by his appearance. She watched him smooth down the shirt he wore, glancing down like he was making sure he hid something. Maybe they were worried about their physique?

A little confused, she switched her attention to the person on the other side of the short one she had dubbed “Gray” internally. This man was also fairly tall, and stood out with a short haircut, dyed a cherry red, which complimented his prominent electric blue eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he seemed the most excited to be there, grinning widely to himself in genuine enjoyment. And for good reason too; his smile could make it on Vogue. A large, attractive nose and abnormally sharp teeth marked his face, and it was obvious that he worked out; being quite toned. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced at her, sticking his tongue out childishly.

Next, she looked at the last person in the room, and easily the tallest; the person who said to wait for someone they called “Sylvi”.

I didn’t know people could get that tall, Y/n pondered.

A small smile rested upon his relaxed face, dark chocolatey hair—which looked like it had been buzzed at some point, but remained in tight ringlets—a similar shade to his skin. Everything about him screamed that he was a gentle giant. Apart from his insane height, towering at least half a foot over “Cherry” next to him, there was nothing else odd about his appearance. The distance between them did not stop Y/n from seeing his long eyelashes and small, gilded nose piercing. He had a welcoming aura to him.

“So sorry for the delay~ I got sidetracked.” The sound brought Y/n back out of her studying, reminding her to hoist Milo back up to her chest. Since he was on the larger side, his body kept slipping down her torso. Then, she turned to the source of the sing-song intrusion.

At the bottom of the staircase stood a graceful figure, presumably “Sylvi”, with pin-straight silvery hair reaching to their waist. Compared to the other residents, this person was very pale, though they did not look sickly. Their skin actually glowed a little. They looked very serene standing there, lemon-lime eyes sparkling directly at Y/n. Pinked lips curled upwards in a tender smile when their eyes connected with hers. In contrast to the softness of this person, Y/n could make out barely hidden tattoos creeping up their neck and decorating their lithe arms.

“Alright,” Sylvi stated contently. “It’s time for introductions then. We’ll go by oldest to youngest. Name, age, pronouns, and… favorite color please!” They pointed to the giant person with a poised flourish.

A rich voice exited the man. “My name is Izuma, and I’m 23. I prefer he/him pronouns, and my favorite color is sea green.” He sent a calm smile to Y/n, to which she nodded in response. Izuma barely finished his introduction before the cherry haired person started his.

“Hello! I am Dino, I’m 22, I like he/him pronouns, and my favorite color is…”

He paused for dramatic affect.

“…Dirt brown.”

“Dirt brown??” Y/n blurted before she realized she was technically interrupting. Dino laughed at her bewilderment.

“Yeah, I dunno. I just think it’s nice.”

“Silly man,” Sylvi made fun of him lightly. “Hello, my name is Sylvi, as I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I’m 22 in human years, I accept any pronouns, and my favorite color is yellow currently.” Y/n could help but wonder what Sylvi was, if they had a human age and a non-human age. ‘Lion’ stepped forward.

“I’m Falin. I’m also 20, go by he/him, and I like navy blue,” he said shortly. She blinked at his brief answer. She might not be able to become friends with this one.

“Hi, I’m Jay. I’m 19, use he/him and they/them pronouns, and my favorite color is probably black. It’s nice to meet you,” the fluffy haired blond who had waved at her offered Y/n a hesitant smile, which she returned. At this point, there was only one resident left, so everyone looked toward ‘Gray’.

“Wren. 18. They/them,” They paused for a moment, thinking. “…Purple.”

Forget about Falin, she might never be able to get along with Wren if that was how much they spoke normally.

Then, they were all turning toward Y/n.

“Oh, uh,” She had forgotten that she would need to introduce herself as well.

“My name is Y/n. I’m y/a. I go by she/her pronouns, and my favorite color is f/c. It’s nice to meet you all.”

The room was enveloped in silence for a moment.

“Oh!” She continued. “And this is Milo.”

She lifted the cat a little to the best of her ability, nudging him to greet the habitants of the mansion. Reluctantly, he did so.

Mrr.

There was another split second of quiet before someone let out a small snort at Milo’s unenthusiastic greeting, breaking the awkwardness.

“It’s very nice to meet you too,” Sylvi vocalized, tapping her chin. “Lets see… we don’t have any rules here, other than no attempts before 10 am or past 8 pm and to keep any destruction to a minimum, please.”

Sylvi took a breath before adding, “And let us know if a man dressed in red ever arrives here. We need to have some words with him.”

“He didn’t let us bury the last guest,” Izuma followed up quietly. “Took the body with him and didn’t say anything about it. It was the least they deserved.”

The silence from before returned, and Y/n sobered. In light of meeting such fascinating people, she had almost forgotten the less-than-ideal circumstances. She grimaced. Though the introductions had been brief, she had already come to the conclusion that it would be very difficult to wound any of the residents. This was partially because she was wary of their super origins, but also because she was already growing a small soft spot for some of them.

She quizzed herself, looking for an answer. Should she tell them she had decided not to try to kill them, but wanted to try and kill the self-dubbed “ringmaster” instead? Recalling Izuma's mention of the man wearing the red suit, she spoke.

“So… I was right?” She said slowly. The group looked at her.

“Right about what?” Falin questioned, crossing his arms tensely.

“About you guys not wanting- not wanting to...“ she trailed off, hoping they would understand how she intended to finish the sentence.

After a moment, Dino responded to her.

“We've never harmed a guest here, or wanted to. And we never will.” He gazed into her eyes in genuineness. Then his nonchalant studying turned confused.

“What’s up with your forehead? Did you hit your head on something?” Realization sprung through her mind as she dabbed the spot Dino called attention to with her free hand. Sure enough, her fingers drew away spotted with nearly dry flecks of blood.

In memory, her palm gravitated toward the area by her collarbone the unusual man had squeezed predatorily.

“The man in red,” she started. “Is he blond? Weirdly straight teeth?”

Jay’s eyes widen, and Sylvi’s facial expression grew more serious.

“Scary enough to make you piss yourself?” Falin interjected helpfully.

She nodded.

“That’s the one.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” she continued, touching her shoulder regardfully, not noticing Wren’s watchful eyes flicking from her forehead to the place she grazed with her hand carefully. “He’s the one who brought me here.”

Chapter Text

She was immediately bombarded with a chorus of questions. Quickly overwhelmed with the sudden noise, she raised her hands in surrendering motion, which soon quieted the stunned cluster of supernaturals.

“He escorted me here personally,” Y/n reported. “And he seemed to think that this year will be different from previous years.”

She squirmed a little, briefly thinking of omitting the info she held, but decided it would be best to let them know early on. Hopefully, it would dispel any distrust they had sooner rather than later.

“I also, um… I agree with him.”

“Why do you say that?” Izuma was the first to form an inquiry.

“Because I don’t plan on making any attempts on your lives.”

It took a long time for anyone to respond to her admission, the room stuck in a state of disbelief.

“Why not?” The question came from Wren, who had not spoken to her directly since she had arrived. Even during their introduction, their eyes were fixed on something just past her head.

But now, their eyes met hers in raw longing, desperate for confirmation of the truth, searching for a sterling, concrete reason why she had vowed not to hurt them. This was the most emotion she had seen from Wren thus far.

Growing shy at the attention, Y/n began to babble an explanation of what she had discovered within the past couple weeks.

“…and when I noticed that the man in a red suit was calling himself a ‘ringmaster’ and talking about how nobody but you guys knew about him, I put two and two together,” she finished.

“Huh.” This came from Falin, who had been pacing with his arms still crossed in thought throughout the entirety of Y/n's speech. He did not elaborate further.

“What do you plan on doing?” Sylvi wondered aloud, now leaning on the wall across from her, silvery hair cascading over their slim build.

Y/n's eyebrows furrowed a little, unsure of what he was getting at.

“What do you mean?”

Sylvi’s lips quirked up a little in response.

“What’s your plan now? Like, if you don’t plan on killing us, are you going to let the timer run out instead?” inserted Jay, looking both concerned and perplexed.

“I’d rather not,” she said assuringly.

She took a second to finally set Milo down, deeming the inhabitants' earlier reaction to his presence as approval. He immediately began to wander the area, stopping occasionally to sniff someone or something. He eventually made it to Dino, whom he glared at, his smooth fur getting all pointy and fluffed. Thankfully, Dino did not seem offended at this, only laughing knowingly. Soon though, Milo returned to normal after meeting Izuma, whose legs he wrapped himself around quickly. His purring was audible for most of the residents and new housemate.

“Whatcha gonna do then?” Falin scratched between two teeth with an acute nail, then pulled his arm back to inspect what had been bothering them. He looked slightly embarrassed when he realized Y/n had witnessed this.

“Well...” this was when Y/n had a worrisome revelation, paranoia striking her unexpectedly.

They were being much too casual about this.

The introductions, the questions, the attentive listening. Sure, they had done this every year for nearly a decade, but should they really be this open to hear what she had to say when they had no idea if they could trust her?

Why was Jay concerned for her wellbeing? Why did Wren look hopeful? They did not know if she was lying or not.

The words the red man had left her with hit her again.

This was a game to them. A sick, warped game.

Gain her trust, be friendly, get close. And then pull up the rug beneath.

That had been her original plan to survive Jules’ curse, but could it have been the inhabitants’ plan as well? They knew what her plan was. Now, she dreaded what theirs could be.

She had gotten too comfortable. Instantly, she had begun giving them vital information they could use against her. Were they actually the creatures that had tried to stop the red man years ago? ’Of course!’ they would agree, taking advantage of her assumption to gain her as an ally. They would play pretend to get her on their side but then slide a sharpened knife across her neck at the tiniest mishap.

They could kill me easily, she reminded herself. What would happen if she told them about her plan to defeat the man in red?

They wouldn’t hesitate to finish her off if they were on his side.

She had gotten her hopes up too fast, encouraged to believe they were here against their will. They could be working with the man, in agreement to kill residents of Jules for as long as they could; the red man having the love of watching the game, and the residents having the love of playing it.

They want to see you suffer, a soundless voice whispered to her, one she had fought to subdue a week prior.

Y/n swallowed a bubble of anxiety that had begun to twist up from her stomach, threatening to explode into a panic attack. It would do her no good to slip up now, lest the residents see her sudden change in attitude. If they suspected she knew about their intentions, they would make her life far worse.

No.

She took a second to adjust herself, doing the best she could to make her increasing terror appear to be relaxed thinking. She placed her index and thumb on her chin, ignoring the small tremors rippling through her limbs.

She would not let her fear consume her. She would play along with the game—if, and only if, she emphasized—there was one.

If she could trust them eventually, she would tell them about her plan.

And if not…?

Then so be it.

Snapping out of her turmoil at a tickle by her foot, she glanced down to see her Milo nudging her.

She could do this, she reminded herself.

“…Honestly, I’m not sure what to do right now,” she managed to choke out with little trepidation affecting her voice.

“That’s all you got out of a solid minute of thinking?” Dino commented, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, I just… I started thinking about how he acted,” Y/n began. “He was… terrifying, to say the least.” She touched at her shoulder gently again for good measure.

This clearly did not fool some of them, but she did see a few of their gazes soften.

Izuma hummed. “Alright. We do have a year or so after all, so we can have some meetings later to decide what to do about all of this. For now though, I think it’s time to give you a little tour, and show you your room.”

"Sounds good to me,” she replied, still shaken by her earlier unrest.

Before setting out to show Y/n the run of the mansion, they realized that it would be odd for all six of the residents to give the tour. So, it was decided that Izuma, being the oldest, and Jay, who explained that they loved to give tours, would show her around.

It was interesting to see how each resident reacted to this decision.

Wren did not complain whatsoever, instead swiftly making themself sparse, and heading upstairs to where Y/n assumed most of the bedrooms would be. Right behind him was Falin, who seemed to have gotten more irritated since they began talking about the red man.

Sylvi passed by her, heading upstairs as well, but not before handing her a tissue with a smile. When Y/n looked at it, confused, he still said nothing, only tapping at his forehead with a well-manicured hand. Understanding, she patted at the area around her cut, collecting the flakes of dried blood on the tissue, which she folded up neatly.

Dino waved a friendly goodbye to her, a faint sideways smile on his face. He was heading to the right of the stairs. This, she thought was weird at first, until she spotted a door hidden just behind the elegant stairway, which he entered, closing it behind him with a creak.

“I suppose we’ll show you the first floor before we show you the bedrooms,” Izuma contemplated.

A large room adjacent to the entry was both the dining room and the living room, split evenly in half with a change of aesthetic. It was sort of surreal; the dining room being quite formal, fitted with a long, thin wooden table. The living room was very different, brighter, decorated with round couches in soft green and yellow hues, and completed with a couple coffee tables and warm-toned lamps.

The second place they showed her was the kitchen, which felt considerably more homey than the front of the mansion. Though it was large, there wasn’t a single spot left empty, completely full to the brim with worn kitchenware; which was evidently used often.

Above an ‘island’ counter in the center of the kitchen was a rack connected to the ornate ceiling. An assortment of coppery pots and pans, as well as a few different sizes of ladles and spatulas, dangled from it.

The countertops were smooth and made out of a refined granite, which was a smoky gray, but glimmered a very particular shade of blue Y/n found difficult to describe.

Everything in the kitchen was very clean, including a small frosted window just higher than an equally pristine sink. Though expensive-looking and sophisticated, the clutter and obvious cherishing of the kitchen and its tools made it feel more snug and welcoming.

“I’m usually the one who cooks,” Izuma mentioned. “But Dino will take over occasionally to make dessert.”

The next room they visited was down a narrow hallway, its walls covered by paintings with a great range in size and shape, all giving the impression that they had been created by the same artist. They were very nice, she noted, all of natural scenery, except for a few that seemed to be different places in the garden she had seen earlier that evening. The style was very airy, using a mixture of watercolor, and what she assumed to be pastels to bring a dreamy-ness to the landscapes depicted. She liked one of a golden field in particular, waves of wind ruffling through the grassy tresses. She could imagine herself there, the breeze drifting through her short hair, the grass brushing her ankles.

Once they reached the room they were aiming for, Jay grew visibly more excited.

“This is the recreation room! You’re welcome to take advantage of whatever you’d like in here, except for Wren’s music player. They don’t like when others use it.” He trailed off.

“...I’d also prefer if you ask me before using any of my art supplies. Just so I know,” they said bashfully.

Y/n readily agreed, having a lot of respect for other people’s property, as she valued her own possessions the same way.

Then she did a double-take.

“Those are your paintings!” She gasped. “They’re beautiful!”

“Yeah,” he said, amazed, scratching at the back of his head in embarrassment. “I’m surprised you figured that out so quickly. I guess I didn’t really look like the type to previous guests.”

She observed him curiously for a moment. Fluffy blond hair, piercings, and an eyebrow scar, as well as a golden beaded necklace she had just noticed around their neck. Did they look like an artist? Did they not? She had no idea.

Izuma chuckled at their discussion. “You can always use the piano by the way. It’s technically Falin’s, but he stopped playing awhile ago. I doubt he’ll care very much if someone else uses it once in awhile.”

Y/n appreciated this a lot. She had played a little electric piano once or twice before as a kid, and thought it was pretty fun. This piano was very different from it though, bone white and pitch black keys gracing the mahogany frame. It was a grand piano: much higher in quality compared to the cheap, dinky electric piano she had tried out.

She couldn’t wait to play it.

The next few rooms were fairly normal, considering they were in a small mansion. A laundry room on one side, a storage room on the other. At the end of the corridor were two more doors; one leading to a room Izuma had called his “tinkering room”, and a door with a screen layer that led to the backyard. That was it for the first floor in terms of rooms, though she couldn’t help but recall the door Dino had gone through previously, which Izuma and Jay did not mention whatsoever.

If they were hiding something there, she would just have to find out what. Maybe she would investigate it later.

...Or maybe she would ask someone about it, instead of handing herself a potential death sentence.

Ultimately, they ventured upstairs, where there were significantly more doors down a wider hallway, four on each side. They stopped at the first door on the right, and now that they were nearer, Calypso could see that on each door was a wooden nameplate, each unique to its owner. The one closest to them displayed ‘Izuma’ in crisp, textbook cursive.

She had to admit it: the idea of name-tags on bedroom doors was pretty cute.

“My room, of course,” Izuma divulged. Both Jay and Izuma made their way to the next door down, but not in advance of Y/n spotting the door across from Izuma’s.

It read the name ‘Leo’. Who was Leo?

Before she could say anything, they were at the next couple doors. These were Dino’s and Sylvi’s, the former on the left, and the latter on the right. Dino’s door tag was printed in large, round, neat handwriting, while Sylvi’s was swirly and cut shallowly into the wood.

The following pair of doors were, bizarrely enough, Jay’s and Wren’s doors. Jay’s nameplate had curvy calligraphy, similar to Sylvi’s, with a tiny star to the right of the ‘y’, and Wren’s signature was tiny and scrawled, with notable space between each letter.

The doors had been in order of age so far, so where was Falin’s? If she was correct, it should’ve been been beside Jay’s, with Wren’s door standing alone.

Her thoughts were answered quickly when they came to the last set of doors, one being Falin’s, with messy, jagged handwriting, and the other having no nameplate. Falin’s plate was also newer than the others, being a vaguely brighter walnut stain.

But still, who was Leo?

She asked this aloud before she could stop herself.

Izuma halted, suddenly very stiff, the muscles on his neck tensing. He inhaled a shuddering breath, seeming to barely keep himself together.

“I’m going to finish that project I was working on, Jay.” He did not turn to face them as he said this. “Please continue Y/n's tour for me.”

Jay said nothing, only dipping his head in affirmation. He and Y/n watched Izuma make his descent back downstairs. There they stood for a little while, both unsure of what to say.

“…Leo was an original member of our group here,” Jay began. “He was with us when we tried to stop Malik, the red man, from ratting out every supernatural in Jules. He was our sword and shield, and an older brother to us all, especially Izuma.”

There was a moment when Y/n thought that Jay’s soft features might twist into dark glare, but his face kept the same sorrowful expression, letting little anger through.

“Two years ago, after several of being stuck in this hellhole, he decided to test Malik’s power. In doing so, he saved the newest guest from their fate at the hands of Malik.”

Jay’s stare became blank.

“Malik killed him in a fit of rage, furious that Leo had tried to find a loophole in his barbaric game. He may not have died quietly, but he did not die swiftly, nor did he die peacefully. We haven’t done anything like that ever since. Too wary to try, to save our own skins, I guess.” He murmured bitterly.

“I won’t give you any more detail on how he saved the guest from death, whom he saved, or where they ended up either. Sylvi or Dino would be better people to ask. Whether or not they’ll tell you though, I’m not sure.”

Y/n had to remind herself to breathe. She hadn’t even thought of what these people would have gone through if they were the friends that had retaliated against the red man, who she now knew was called Malik.

If they fought back, they would be killed.

It was much more terrifying to think that this man could not only murder her, but a small platoon of arguably seasoned supernaturals.

“What the hell is he?” She demanded, alarmed.

Jay shook their head. “None of us have any idea. He’s ancient though, that’s for sure. Shows in how delusional he is.”

“What is he delusional about?” She piped up. What did he gain from any of this?

“The man wants to be the only supernatural in Jules, so he can be it’s fake little king. But, he enjoys suffering too, and he’s more than willing to wait a few decades to watch the last of us die off,” he scoffed. “He’s absolutely insane.”

“But anyway,” he continued. “I think it’s about time for me to go to bed, and for you to see your room. It’s almost 11 now.”

“Oh!” She took a look at her watch. Indeed, it was nearing 11 pm.

Jay opened the unmarked door for her. She barely glanced at the tidy room, the bed already made for her and her cat snoring upon it.

“Izuma would usually make dinner or tell us what leftovers we have by now, but I think he got a little too emotional to remember tonight. You’ll just have to taste his cooking tomorrow. His breakfasts are my favorite.” Jay smiled, but he seemed sad. He hesitated before speaking again.

“Don’t- don’t give up on the others too quickly, will you? We all took Leo's death hard. Some are rougher on the edges than others are, but please, give them a chance. We all have our battles after all.” He met her eyes for a second more, then said goodnight.

All Y/n could do was lay in her new abode in silence.

Chapter Text

Y/n didn’t know if she was surprised or not the next morning when she awoke with an intense headache. She had not slept well, too much on her mind to let her sleep tranquilly, even with her exhaustion from the eventful day.

She felt terrible; her vision blurry and eyeballs defined. She could tell her recent lack of sleep and stress over moving to the mansion was getting to her.

Both her and Milo had missed their dinners, she recalled, feeling guilty for not caring for Milo properly. That—combined with her empty stomach—had likely added to her restlessness.

This was just so surreal. She held so many bits and pieces of information, just barely strung together with twine, but everything else was still unclear. If she wrote everything she knew down on some parchment, she could almost visualize all the holes and crossed out details damaging the paper, rendering it useless. A ruined sheet of paper was no use to her.

How could she find out who the true villains were? Was it Malik alone? Malik and the six supernaturals she was now living with? Malik and the corrupt police force of Jules? It had to him of course; he had not only threatened her, but physically harmed her as well. He thought of himself as the maestro of a beastly orchestra, but were the musicians willing participants?

She had no way of knowing who was innocent or guilty.

But boy was it hard not to believe the mystical occupants. The emotion in their voices, the genuine-ness, the care. But did they really care? It was ridiculously tough to figure out their true colors.

A resident had saved someone, only to meet death himself.

But, if there were six in the beginning, how were there still six occupants now? Had Leo been replaced after Malik murdered him? And if so, who wasn’t a resident from day one? When and how had they been chosen to become prisoner? Were there actually a total of seven creatures who fought against Malik, and Aria had heard incorrectly?

Something was missing from Jay’s story. Something huge.

Sylvi or Dino; Jay had recommended. They might be willing to answer her queries. They could help her find the last puzzle piece.

She flipped her wrist upright to see her watch. 9 am. She would technically be allowed to make assassination attempts on the residents in an hour, not that it mattered. Her morality had taken ahold of her now that she knew more about Jules Mansion and its inhabitants. And, the new softness in her made her wonder if she she would be able end the curse traditionally, if it ever came down to that.

Y/n could also admit she was scared, but she was not as wary as she had become the day before. The few details she had proving that each guest hasn’t died until the last day reassured her that she wouldn’t be killed. Yet.

Who would she go to first? Both had been fairly friendly to her so far, Sylvi had given her a tissue for her scratch, and Dino had been amiable overall. Could she trust one more over the other?

She thought about this for a minute. Dino had been cordial, but Sylvi had shown attentiveness for her wellbeing too. It was decided; she would go to Sylvi first after breakfast, and if the answers—or lack there of—didn’t satisfy her, she would go to Dino next. On second thought, she considered, maybe she would go to both no matter how valuable one’s information was. Perhaps Dino would have additional knowledge that Sylvi didn’t, or vice-versa.

Milo clambered over the puffy comforter, close to taking a tumble as he reached his owner, an imperative yowl leaving his mouth.

MROW.

Y/n scrunched her eyes shut at the harsh sound, head hurting worse. There was a fuzziness in her senses that she attributed to her shortage of sleep. She really, really hoped they had coffee downstairs.

This was how Milo asked for food. Contrary to his typically gentle meow, he would call out to Y/n loudly in hopes of filling his belly with delicious kibble.

“Alright,” Y/n sighed, and got up to feed her freeloading cat.

Taking the bag of dry kibble out of her suitcase, she dumped a small portion into the food bowl, to Milo’s excitement. She would have to get some water from the kitchen or a bathroom to fill his water bowl, not that he drank water often. Maybe Milo wouldn’t be as round if he hydrated himself better? Switching over to wet food might do him some good.

Having gotten sidetracked, Y/n returned to her thoughts. She would have to face the music at some point, so she might as well do so sooner rather than later. Besides, Jay had told her that breakfast would be something to look forward to.

But first, she wanted to make the room feel a little more familiar.

She glanced down at her bags, which remained largely unpacked. Grumbling under her breath at her past self, she went through them, pulling out Milo’s other belongings from the bottom and setting them aside. It took her a bit to remove her eyes from the packages from Mrs. Rogue as she deposited them tenderly on her unmade bed.

This she soon undid, choosing to stow them under the the far corner of the bed, and haphazardly throwing the sheets and blankets relatively back into place, not up for making her bed properly. After brushing her teeth arduously, she determined the clothing she would wear.

Picking a nice shirt that complimented her e/c eyes, she changed leisurely, taking her time; awaiting the moment her brain would finally wake up properly. Though, she accepted, she may genuinely need the help of some caffeine to do so. That or a freezing cold shower.

You couldn't miss the deep purple bruising Malik had left on her shoulder. Sure enough, the discoloration had bloomed greatly overnight. She immediately regretted pressing at it with a tentative finger, a flare of pain wriggling through the mark instantly. Shrugging it off, she continued planning her attire.

She took hold of a pair of comfortable pants she liked. They would go very well with the shirt she had selected. Besides, she thought, she felt sort of cold, though the room had been perfectly tempered the night before. Collecting a few pleasing accessories, she added them to herself. Should she wear sandals or slippers?

As she pondered her choice of footwear, she absentmindedly scratched at the barely formed scab on her forehead, which erased the hard work her platelets had spun. Y/n sighed again as her palm came away with a blend of dried and fresh blood under her fingernail. She could only hope it wouldn’t start actively dripping again.

Her head began pounding more powerfully. The residents would probably have human medication somewhere. She would kill for some Tylenol.

A hasty knock sounded at her door. Right after, she heard a muffled voice yell to her.

“Yo, are you awake? We’re the last ones up here, so I have to escort you to the dining room. It’s Falin.”

She had barely begun to respond when Falin interrupted with an ear-splitting ‘hurry up!’ Rolling her eyes at his impatience, she grabbed her cat, who had just finished his own meal, and opened the door.

“About time,” he launched, “Don’t make it a habit to be-“

He stopped, staring at her face questioningly. For a second, she thought she saw his eyes flash and his nostrils flare, but when she blinked, he was only glaring at her, waiting for an explanation.

After a moment, she realized he had noticed the nick on her head.

“Oh, I accidentally scraped it. The scab broke,” she clarified.

Wrinkling his nose and rubbing a finger underneath it, he huffed.

“Stay here.” He stamped back to his room, which she had forgotten was directly across from hers, slamming the door after he entered. For a moment, she thought about leaving him there and going to find the dining room by herself, but he returned shortly with a partly unwrapped bandaid in his grasp.

Without saying a word, he denuded the bandaid the rest of the way, and smushed it unceremoniously against her brow, securing the sticky areas of the bandage around the cut with a surprisingly considerate finger pad.

“Wha-“ flabbergasted, Y/n held her now dressed forehead in astonishment.

Still agitated, he took a strained breath and held it for a moment. Only now did his limbs relax a little at whatever inner peace he had come to. He was strangely upset over a tiny flesh wound.

“Let’s go.” Falin marched toward the staircase, leaving Y/n alone with her mouth agape. Quickly, she followed after him, still stunned.

Eventually, she caught up and began walking beside him, to his apparent displeasure.

“Thanks,” She said softly. He grunted in concession.

Most of the rest of their expedition was done in awkward silence. Though very temperamental and anti-social, Falin had still decided to show her a form of kindness.

Maybe they could get along after all.

Y/n peered obliviously at Falin’s features as they walked together. Falin sure did live up to the sobriquet she had given him internally before she knew his name. He truly had the demeanor of a lion. Imposing, but minacious.

While he was visibly vexed and stuck to an untamed style, there was a regality to him that she found fascinating. He took care of his fierce mane and white fangs, clearly taking pride in his looks. And, though Y/n didn’t like to stereotype, she suspected that he could be a werewolf, or at least part Were. She wasn’t completely sure though, as she had heard that ogre could have similar features.

She snickered to herself. That would also explain his attitude.

He glanced at her as her silent laughter subsided.

“Something funny?” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

Heat rose to her cheeks at being caught. “I just thought of a thing Milo did once.”

Speaking of the globular feline, he seemed completely fine with Falin’s presence, which perturbed her. She figured that Falin being a Were was most likely, but a majority of small animals tended to sense their lupine inheritance and react negatively, hence why werewolves had been some of the first creatures to be persecuted under the CPH*.

She had read article after article about law enforcement using retired scout animals and former drug-detection dogs to find Weres and arrest them for daring to draw breath. The werewolves may have had an advantage with their sharp appendages and strength, but they were no match for silver weaponry and specialized handcuffs.

Legends were often very true, proven by the discovery of the reaction that occurred when silver came in contact with werewolf tissue. Werewolf blood contained an enzyme whose properties reflected the same properties and components of sulfur monoxide to the point where it created the same reaction; tarnishing. While harmless to silver, the product of sulfur sulfide caused severe weakness and nausea in werewolves, as well as a gray or blue tinge to the skin. For reasons similar to how rust affects metal, prolonged contact had a high potential to cause organ failure.

Death to what scientists studying the properties of werewolf blood called “SS poisoning” was not desirable in the slightest.

The mirthful smile she had on her face faded, and she felt a pang of sympathy. Struck with sudden guilt for laughing at Falin, her mind urged her to say something to make up for it.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Y/n offered.

He stared down at her, perplexed. “Hobbies?”

“Yeah! What do you do in your free time?”

“I always have free time,” he responded unhelpfully.

“I get that, but what do you do? Don’t you get bored?” She cracked a grin at a thought she found outrageously hilarious. “Does Daddy Malik pay for your pastimes as well as your housing and groceries?”

Falin’s eyes grew gigantic as he sputtered, grasping the staircase rail to stop himself from tripping and falling down the flight of steps.

“Oh my god. Why would you- that’s so GROSS.” He made some gagging noises as Y/n laughed wildly.

“Well, does he??” She questioned, holding her stomach in laughter, face warming very quickly for how briefly she laughed.

“NO. My god. That’s repulsive. You’re repulsive.” He pointed at her accusingly, cackles escaping his mouth despite his disgust.

“I fuckin- I play piano sometimes. That’s it.” As his chortling came to a lull, he changed his tone back to the familiar, annoyed grumble.

“Alright, alright. I believe you,” she smiled back.

The silence that befell them this time was more comfortable.

At this point, they had finally reached the living-dining room doorway, but not before Dino’s vivid cherry head popped through it.

“Was someone laughing or yelling? I genuinely couldn’t tell.” Dino’s query was punctuated by Falin clicking his tongue in exasperation.

“Neither. Shut it.”

Dino chuckled, sending a knowing look toward Y/n, his gaze lingering in some emotion she couldn’t interpret.

“Sure. Come on in! We were waiting for you guys.”

As she stepped through the door, Dino moved aside to reveal the dining table she had seen the day before, now covered entirely in a vast amount of breakfast dishes.

Y/n's eyes jumped from platter to platter, in awe at Izuma’s work. Fluffy scrambled eggs and breakfast sausage. Seared bacon, crisped hashbrowns. A plate of steaming pancakes stacked high. Freshly cut fruits scattered across the tabletop. Jam, syrup, toast. Jay had been right to anticipate breakfast.

It smelled amazing.

The cat in her arms whined in jealousy, begging for a morsel of delicious sausage.

“You just ate, you stinky man.” Y/n whispered to him.

Hearing this, Dino laughed.

Everyone else was already seated, so the only chairs available for her and Falin were two beside each other in front of Wren, and a lone seat next to Sylvi at the other end. A perfect opportunity.

Trying not to look like she was rushing, Y/n clumsily made her way to the place by Sylvi, almost hitting the back of their chair in the process. This was soon proved unnecessary though, as Falin plopped into one of the two empty seats at the end, purposefully leaving a chair’s worth of space between him and a deadpan Jay.

“Good morning,” she greeted Sylvi and Izuma, who was seated in front of her. She placed the still drooling Milo on the floor, much to his discontent. He glowered at Y/n, then began strolling around the bicolor room.

“Good morning,” Sylvi obliged, while Izuma nodded. Soon after, they each began to eat their fill.

Unfolding the cloth to unveil her utensils, her wobbling hands almost dropped the neat bundle on the rug beneath her. This soon happened again as she grasped a one of the serving platters, this specific one being the eggs, to be passed around the table. A shiver wracked through her body. Why were her limbs still cold?

Ungracefulness aside, this had to be one of the oddest breakfasts she had ever partaken in. Nobody spoke to one-another as they ate, not even the occasional side conversation. She found this strange, but it gave her some time to observe them as she devoured her serving.

Sylvi and Izuma were just eating normally, so there was nothing of note there. It was the same for Jay and Wren, who she could barely view being at the opposite end of the table, though she could’ve sworn she had better eyesight than that. A fuzzy looking Falin, however, caught her eye.

He wasn’t eating at all, his plate completely bare, not a single piece of food on it. The glass in his hand however, was brimming with a potent carmine liquid. Fruit juice maybe? She had seen a couple juice pitchers on the table, but none had as deep or intense of a red color. Was he having wine for breakfast??

Oh.

She almost slapped her warming face at her stupidity.

Falin wasn’t a werewolf, he was a vampire. How had she not realized earlier? No wonder he had stuck a bandaid on her face so hastily. The smell probably bombarded his senses, even more so if he was a new vampire.

Y/n didn’t register that she was no longer shoveling food in her mouth, and was now staring daggers at a bowl of quickly-melting whipped cream, her head unknowingly starting to tip toward her plate. The fork in her dominant hand slipped partially out of her fingers.

Was he a new vampire? That would explain his mood swings; newly turned vampires could have symptoms of manic depression for years after being taken to the other side, especially if-

Her brain stopped, the fork finally sliding out of her yielding grip with a clatter.

…If they had been turned unwillingly.

Questions that she had no answers for spilled through her mind, her mouth partially open. Before she could collect herself and try to think logically though, a cool hand was pressing gently against her forehead.

She moved her clouded stare to see Sylvi looking at her with concern.

“You are very, very hot.” His eyes trailed over her face, lifting his palm away.

“Thanks,” she said dumbly. Sylvi chuckled.

“You’re burning up, lovely.”

“Oh,” was the only thing she could respond with.

“I thought you were looking flushed,” remarked Izuma with a frown.

“You need rest. You’re exhausted.” Sylvi told her plainly.

At this point, with the talk of Y/n having a fever being the only conversation happening in the room, all eyes were on her.

“I’m finished eating,” Dino piped in from down the row. “I can walk you back to your room.”

She glanced at his plate. It was empty, like Falin’s was, but it’d clearly been used to hold some food. She nodded, suddenly having very little strength. Her stress really had caught up to her.

“I’m nearly done as well, so I’ll bring up some tea and a thermometer soon.” Sylvi looked at her assuringly. “No caffeine, of course.”

“Okay,” She agreed. After all, if they were liars and murderers, they wouldn’t kill her when she was sick. She should be fine to let them help her.

Immediately, she scolded herself for thinking this. She shouldn’t worry about the long run when her anxiety was making her unwell.

She could trust them. Just this once.

“Up you go!” Unexpectedly, Dino crouched to the side of her seat, his back toward her. She blinked drowsily, but complied, standing to grasp his shoulders and hoist herself effortfully upon his back. This was inconvenient for a second until Dino raised himself back up to his full height and secured Y/n's legs with his arms.

“Thought you were gonna walk me back,” Y/n murmured.

“I thought so too, until I saw you struggling to keep your eyes open,” he replied cheekily. “So, welcome to Dino Airlines: we hope you enjoy your flight.”

She let out a faint laugh, closing her eyes against one of his shoulder blades. Unlike Sylvi’s hand, Dino was warm, which didn’t help her burning face and neck. The rest of her body though, chilled from fever, embraced the appreciated heat. Though she was sturdy upon Dino's back, some part of her felt like she was falling.

The next 30 minutes or so happened for Y/n in a daze, only glimpses occurring to her.

They made it to her room at some point, where she was tucked in her bed carefully, and gifted Milo, who was very worried about Y/n's state. Then came Sylvi’s face, swimming before her bleary vision. They took her temperature, commenting a worried “104,” then lifting her head to try and get her to drink something.

Soon, she could barely perceive their faces, her eyes fluttering shut. Whispers of troubled conversation barely registered through her, some of it being her own delirious mumbles. She could feel her limbs floating, mind drifting away.

“-wasn’t this high when-“

“She can’t-“

“-a cooling pad-“

“-get Izu-”

“Y/n?”

And then she was gone.

Chapter Text

As Sylvi paced around Y/n, her mind went blank, possibilities swarming her like vultures over a corpse.

Though his decision to orbit her would seem threatening to someone else, she got the feeling that he meant no harm. After all, they had shown to be a fairly genuine person so far, nor did he have a weapon or definite advantage in his current position. In fact, she was the one with an upper hand, location-wise. Sylvi had actually moved further into the greenhouse on purpose, making escape easy for Y/n in case she needed to. Their hands laid at their sides, body language relaxed; not at all meaning to block her from leaving so she choose.

It was obvious that Sylvi had no intention of hurting her.

That begged the question: should she reveal her plan?

She had known for ages that Sylvi was very perceptive, especially after they had proved to be adept in natural medicine. There was a high chance that they had already discovered her idea, and only wanted to hear it directly from her.

She considered this for a second; that would also mean that they already knew of Y/n's findings.

“Will you answer any question I have?”

They hummed thoughtfully. “It'll depend on the question.”

“Then, will the answers you do give help me?”

“Maybe.” He hid his smile behind a curled finger.

Whoever had told her that Sylvi could be difficult when giving information was unfortunately correct. Exasperated about his avoidance, Y/n began her interrogation.

“How many years have you been stuck here?”

“Seven or so.”

“Is it true that you tried to stop Malik from outing supernaturals to police before all of you were captured?” This caused Sylvi to grin, apparently delighted about this question.

“I had no idea you knew that much. That’s very true. Who told you?” Y/n ignored this, too focused on getting answers to bother with giving any.

“Is Wren a wraith?” Sylvi nodded, still smiling, not phased whatsoever by Y/n's dismissal.

“Is Falin a vampire?” Another bob of the head.

“You’re an original inhabitant of Jules Mansion.”

“Yep.”

“But there’s someone here who wasn’t here from the beginning.”

“Mhm.”

“Is Falin a recently-turned vampire?” Sylvi rose their eyebrows, impressed.

“You tell me.”

“Wha- I’m the one asking the questions!” Sylvi sighed, deserting their attempt at humor, and gave a short “yes”. They motioned for Y/n to continue.

“That’s why his temperament is so unstable?”

“Indeed.”

“Le-“ Y/n thought better of this, mind whirring at top speed. “An original member died because of Malik, causing him to choose a new person to be their substitute.”

“Not quite.”

“The- wait, what? What do you mean?” Sylvi looked reluctant to respond to this, but gave under Y/n's pleading stare.

“Leo’s death didn’t cause Malik to search for another to take his place.”

“Are you saying that he already had somebody in mind? How?”

“Mm. Sort of.”

“Sylvi-“ Y/n nearly exploded, caught between her thirst for knowledge, and her respect for the being before her. She took a deep breath, allowing herself to calm a little before probing once more.

“What happened?”

Sylvi finally left her spot leaning against the garden bed ahead of Y/n, standing and brushing off her pants. A rare, pensive look was upon her face.

“You’ve got the pieces,” Sylvi gazed at her solemnly, little to no emotion affecting his features. “Put them together.”

Y/n knew the echoes of their conversation would haunt her for the rest of the night, and she was not at all ready to make her way to her room yet. She needed to have an answer now, otherwise the anticipation would tear her apart.

Sylvi had already gone swiftly to their room after giving the least useful advice they could have possibly given. In hindsight, Y/n shouldn’t’ve asked questions she could confirm the answers to herself. She was a little regretful that she hadn’t come up with anything else to ask Sylvi about. Their entire conversation felt like a huge waste of energy on her part.

On the bright side, Sylvi confirmed almost everything Y/n had discovered to be accurate, which helped to boost her assurance a little. Now all she had to do was kick her brain into gear.

She had the “pieces”, or so Sylvi said. So, how did they fit together?

Falin was newly-turned, and Wren was a wraith. Did Wren have anything to do with Falin being turned? Not likely.

Leo died, but the number of residents stayed the same. Then, had Wren been a different person before? Was Leo’s passing a catalyst for Wren’s existence, making Leo his sol? That couldn’t be it; Sylvi had been too casual about answering her question about Wren’s origin.

He was the type to avoid direct answers, but to give hints. What had he given her hints about?

“You tell me,” They had said regarding Falin’s history. Then, they eluded giving her information about the person who replaced Leo. Those two in particular must be tied somehow.

Leo was killed, Falin was turned. No, Falin was turned, and then Leo died?

Falin had to be the resident who wasn’t initially part of the supernatural group, seeing as he was turned but a few years back, and the riot against Malik occurred a good handful before that. Falin had unquestionably been human before he became a vampire, so where did he fit in all of this?

Y/n's eyes flew open in comprehension instantly, a tiny ‘click’ ricocheting through her head.

Before Falin became a resident, he was a sacrifice.

Leo had been a vampire and turned Falin, most likely to save him from his fate as a guest of Jules Mansion. This had been why Malik was infuriated enough to murder Leo, ultimately forcing Falin to become his replacement to continue the cycle of sacrifice.

A rush of sympathy seeped through her. Falin had every right to be angry all the time: he had gone through so much. He had been sent to live with supernaturals like Y/n, but then stripped of his humanity, and sentenced to be a witness to the ungentle passing of a good friend. On top of that, a number of spring seasons later, he was still unable to visit any family he might have in Jules. He may not even know if they were still alive and well.

All of this, not to mention he might blame himself for the death of the inhabitants’ brother figure. Y/n could only imagine how much guilt and grief Falin kept locked up inside.

Falin had it far worse than she did.

Y/n backtracked a bit. If Falin had been chosen two or three years prior, he still had living family residing in Jules. Maybe she had interacted with a relative of his before she received her crimson letter?

It was certainly probable. Falin wasn’t very much older than her, so unless his parents had children very late, or they died by some cause other than old age, they would still be in Jules.

Y/n deadpanned. Hadn’t Mrs. Rogue mentioned that her son had been cursed two years ago?

“Oh.” She mumbled to herself.

Well, she would be in for a big surprise to meet her long-lost child, assuming Y/n's plan would work.

Speaking of her plan, she should probably bring it up to each resident individually to make sure they were all on the same page. If a single person was against the plan, it could be ruined. She needed everyone to be in agreement in order for it to work.

Assuming they were all on board, they would spend some time deciding who would do what. Every person would follow their given role only, as taking someone else’s would be too risky.

Y/n knew that the role she held would be the most dangerous, as well as the most important. It would be vital for her to stick to the tiniest details.

She had strong suspicion that Malik didn’t care whatsoever if the residents and sacrifice plotted together. After all, he was primarily worried about what Y/n would do, and not what the residents might. He had vanquished their hopes of escape a long time ago.

Malik had made the grave mistake of voicing his insecurities about her participation in the game early on. Y/n was certain that Malik would make it his top priority to keep her in line. He would not mind the other residents, but he would definitely keep an eye on her.

Hence: she would be the bait.

She’d purposefully draw his attention toward her every time they interacted—which she concluded would be often, painting herself as a reckless idiot, uncaring of the other residents and striving for her freedom alone. She would show great hatred toward Malik, and pretend to dislike the inhabitants. He wouldn’t notice the other residents’ scheming if he was too busy focusing on containing a raging fire, keeping his attention on her alone.

Y/n would prove Malik right; she was a problem, and he needed to be rid of her as soon as possible. He’d dispose of her before she could even attempt to try anything to ruin his game. He would kill her swiftly, or perhaps take his time, slowly destroying her resolve and leaving her a husk of her former self. Then, he’d find a new offering.

Or so he thought.

Y/n had a knack for reading people, and she could see that while Malik came across as a very complicated entity, he was actually very easy to figure out.

If Y/n acted against Malik’s will enough, he would be sure to do something about it, which was exactly what Y/n wanted him to do. Then, she would need to adjust her role accordingly, switching from bait, to distraction. She needed to have something up her sleeve that would stop Malik in his tracks, giving the other residents the time to perform their duties.

This was all part of her plan.

…That Y/n hadn’t worked out completely yet. In all honesty, she had no idea what would get Malik’s attention long enough for the other residents to fulfill their roles.

The best bet she had in her possession would be the mysterious package Mrs. Rogue had given her before she left for the mansion, but there were a lot of uncertainties surrounding that. One, she had no clue what was in it. Two, she didn’t know how dangerous it was. And three, there was no guarantee it would be any use against Malik.

But, Mrs. Rogue had said to use it for emergencies…

She would keep it in mind then, for an emergency only. But for now, she was still stuck without a good distracting factor to use against Malik. That would be something they’d need to figure out in the future. No big deal.

They had a whole year to figure everything out.

One thing struck her as odd though. While she had no doubt that Malik was continuing this game every year for his own entertainment, she wasn’t sure which part of the game he was enjoying. Was it like watching a TV show or reading a book? Was he into it for the sense of fear in the sacrifice, the inevitable conflicts, or the morbid ending where he would kill the offering? It was unclear as to what made Malik start the game of Jules’ Curse, and she couldn’t comprehend why he hadn’t escalated it, if he was so powerful and out for blood.

Dismissing her thoughts about this, Y/n was wanting one of the residents in particular to help her, while the others didn’t fit her criteria well enough for the role. Thoughtfully, she went over her choices.

Falin, at least for now, was not an option. She wouldn't be able to hold herself back from telling him she had met his mother, making his emotions even more unbalanced, not to mention he might not cooperate in the first place given his temper. Wren seemed very invested in her idea, however, the darkness in his aura made her a little wary to ask for his help just yet. Izuma and Jay appeared nice enough, but they weren’t exactly what she was looking for. Sylvi would probably be more annoying to work with than anything, with his vague nature…

That left Dino, a person whom she had interacted with very little, only when she was basically unconscious. And hallucinating.

But, he had ensured she was safe, and been genuine so far in the few other exchanges they had shared. Regarding the other criteria she had set internally: she needed someone physically strong, determined, and unlikely to stab her in the back.

And luckily, Dino checked all of these boxes.

Dino’s role as the muscle was also very important. He’d need to be in tip-top shape to help Calypso defeat Malik.

His job was to hold Malik down after Y/n distracted him, and then, someone fast—most likely Wren since he was so eager—would shove the vial of the snakeroot flower concentrate down his throat, hopefully killing Malik, and allowing all of their lives to return to normal. A happy ever after ending.

…Oh boy.

Now that Y/n was acting out the way their attempt at escape would go in her head, it was not at all realistic. Dino might not be strong enough, or Malik could be immune to poison. He could straight up not swallow the poison, or spit it at someone, putting them in danger. A multitude of things could happen to totally eviscerate their chances at survival. The list of potential failures and shortcomings could be pages long if she took the time to write one.

Excluding all of the '____  isn’t guaranteed to work's, Y/n wasn’t as afraid as she probably should be to realize that if anything went wrong, she would die. If things went badly, and Malik got them back on their leashes, she would have to face his wrath the most, not the supers. For some reason though, she could accept her death if she died fighting, even if it was an uphill battle the entire journey.

On the other hand, she did think they had a chance to make her clumsily put-together plan successful. They would just have to work on it. Whether her plan ended in her death or her freedom, their freedom, she would try her very best to complete it.

Y/n rubbed her eyes sleepily, unable to stop a yawn from exiting her mouth. She had been conspiring deep into the night, and it was now almost 2 in the morning. Her still-weakened body needed sleep.

She didn’t really remember getting up or walking back to her room after deciding this. In fact, she only recognized that she was climbing into her bed when Milo appeared from under the covers to greet her.

Despite her lingering anxiety, Y/n laid her head upon her pillow, loving purrs from her cat coaxing her eyes to shut. Hope arrived, encouraging her lips into a resting smile.

In a vacant space, free of terrain, stood a lonesome chair. This was all that could be seen, a heavy, bleak mist dissuading any visitors from straying from the sole object in sight. One would surely lose their way if they chose to wander.

A blink, and someone, something appeared by the chair. It was just barely recognizable as Malik, but in a far different state than how he was when meeting with Y/n. This version of Malik was monstrous.

He was in the same red suit, of which its hue did nothing to hide the fact that he was drenched in blood. His hands were equally—if not more— stained, a gradual stream traveling down his now needle-like claws, forming a small puddle upon the plain below him. Contrary to his dirtied attire, Malik’s physique was completely intact. The blood was not his own.

If some unlucky human were to come across this being, they would likely drop dead within moments. Not by Malik’s account, at least not right away, but by sheer visceral horror.

This humanoid creature was awful to witness. Three dark horns had erupted from his head, and his features were very pronounced, sharp and portent. His eyes were crescents blown wide, glimmering with the hunger of an insatiable predator. He seemed to be several beings combined, his horns being similar to those of a mountain goat, with his limbs bent and back hunched like a rabid coyote. Covering the patches of skin that did not have wiry fur protecting it were the sleek scales of a serpent that faded from a deep red to a sickly yellow. His frame was mangled, like some twisted God had squeezed parts of those animals together to create Malik. He was a monster.

And very, very unhappy one.

Things were not going according to plan.

The girl was an issue, unlike other players Malik had selected prior. She had too much of a spark in her eyes. Too much determination. That one, Falin, had been a problem once upon a time, but that had been taken care of quickly. This, he felt, would not be the same way.

There was something else to her other than sheer resolve that bothered Malik.

This “Y/n” had evaded the brunt of his poison; he had meant to incapacitate her for a few days while he decided whether to remove her or not. Instead, she was up by the end of the afternoon. Then, she gained the favor of multiple residents in just a day, gaining more information in such a short time than most of the previous competitors ever had. Those who had come before her had not come even close. And now, she was plotting his demise.

Malik was not happy about this turn of events. Not one bit.

He liked seeing the fear-torn expressions of his victims, the hopelessness, the anguish. He relished watching missing limbs be severed and broken hearts become torn. Screaming? Music to his ears. Crying? A three course meal. Delicious.

This was the type of fate each of the previous players met at the end of their timeline, unbeknownst to his current chess pieces. They were not aware that he had tortured far more guests than their precious “Leo”. That might upset them too much. He needed them to be complacent and quiet, not enraged over cruelty applied to their undeserving townspeople.

Killing Leo in front of them had been a rare stretch for his self-set guidelines.

Oh, Leo. His betrayal had been so disappointing for Malik. Admittedly, he had not predicted that anyone would ever pull off something so bold. He got his way in the end. But now, he would not have to worry about Falin and his friends cooperating with that new rat’s schemes. They were much too afraid of the consequences. He only had her to worry about.

She was no longer afraid.

How delightful. But oh, the anticipation of watching the girl grovel at his feet, desperate for some salvation of which he would never grant, naturally. He could not possibly wait any longer to see her fall. He would break her in time. But, he must play his own little game first. His chance would come.

The waiting game was one of his favorites.

“I could take her eyes,” Malik pondered to himself. “No, just one. She can’t look at me in terror if she’s lost her sight.” He giggled.

Fear was a compelling thing, Malik knew. When he could get his hands on Y/n, that would be the only emotion her little brain could comprehend. He couldn’t read minds, unfortunately, so it would also allow him to learn of her plan. She would spill her guts in more way than one.

If he could get to her.

The ants he let settle within his beautiful mansion were becoming fond of this Y/n, something that had only happened when Falin befriended sweet, deceased Leo. He was worried that another incident would occur.

And this time, they may get in his way.

Malik was a very capable being, but he was not limitless. His abilities were very diverse. They could level towns—which he’d tried before and wasn’t really a fan of: far too tedious to clean up—and squash humans with ease. But, they did have a very large flaw.

You see, Malik’s power stems from discipline. Once he had discovered his ability; forcing his sweat cells to become poisonous became practically effortless, undemanding of his capacity. However, without a strict guideline to adhere, nothing about his perspiration would be abnormal. In order for his ability to work, he must give his otherworldly desire a drawback, one strong enough to offset the strength of its potential. For instance, his venomous nature had quite the interesting disadvantage.

Malik was not immune to the poison dancing within his very sweat. Those cells may be offensive with the grasp of poison, but he had no means to defend against the same toxin he had adopted, making him just as susceptible to death if something similar were to enter his bloodstream.

True to his arrogance though, Malik was not worried about this ironic weakness of his. Rather, the excitement caused by his macabre fantasies heightened his confidence. Assuredly, things would go his way, even if his certainty wavered once in awhile. Everything would be just as perfect as it had been for seven years. His beautiful routine of ‘capture, torture, murder’ could not be paused. His Achille’s Heel would not be discovered.

Nobody was smart enough to figure out his little paradox. Nobody.

Or so he thought.

Chapter Text

Within the next few weeks, Y/n had become engrained in her housemates’ routines, adopting many of them as her own.

Izuma made breakfast and dinner every day, leaving the time between those meals for people to fend for themselves if they got hungry. On weekdays, Izuma served a simpler breakfast, typically something on the lighter side. One of her favorites so far was an exception to that standard; blueberry pancakes, fruit salad, and breakfast sausage, which he had served them a couple days before. It had been delicious. On weekends though, the smorgasbord of breakfast foods returned, filling the long dining table with an assortment of platters. This was also well-loved by Y/n and her other companions.

Dinner, on the other hand, was almost always something different each evening. This was the meal of the day that Izuma poured the most effort into. One night, it was a silky pasta with plump cherry tomatoes and spinach. Another night, hearty and filling chicken and rice. It seemed that Izuma’s creativity had no end, as there had not been any repeats yet in the three weeks she had lived with him.

Meal times were when she saw Izuma the most, and on occasion, she’d come visit him before breakfast or dinner was ready, and they’d talk about everything from cooking preferences to favorite foods. This was how she came to learn about Izuma’s love of seafood and fresh fruit, both of which were hard for him to get unfortunately. When she asked how they were getting their groceries and where from, Izuma shrugged and grimaced, giving a brief but self-explanatory answer. “Malik.”

A few times, she got to the kitchen early enough to see Izuma writing ideas for dinner on the whiteboard at the counter. She would help choose what to make, and prepare the ingredients with him. It felt very nostalgic for her, a reminder of when she would cook with her mother at home. She always enjoyed days where she would get to work with Izuma.

Y/n noticed that she was a bit happier as of late, and the good food was definitely part of the reason. During the month of living in her practically empty apartment, she had not been eating well. Meals mostly consisted of too many carbohydrates to be healthy, and she was only really eating to sustain herself, not to enjoy the taste.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she had learned, were the days Sylvi went out to the front garden to water the plants that needed it, while Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays were spent in the greenhouse. A lot of Y/n's time with her happened these days, hanging out by a garden bed to listen to Sylvi’s knowledge of plants. It was meditative, letting their voice fill her head as she sat and observed them and the gradual progress of the budding flowers and sprouting seedlings. Residents could pick and choose what to eat from the garden during the week, but anything that would go bad soon would be plucked from the garden, washed, and handed directly to Izuma on Sundays: a day of harvest.

Some nights, she and Sylvi would sit on the stoop together, just as they did before Y/n saw inside the greenhouse for the first time, and point out the stars that shined the brightest. Sylvi seemed to know of every star in the sky.

When she wasn’t hanging around the kitchen or with Sylvi in the garden, there were a number of hobbies Y/n had that she could now pursue with the vast resources of Jules Mansion at her disposal.

One was learning how to play the piano. She had been alone at first when plucking keys to the best of her ability, but at some point, she caught Falin peeking around the corner at her, staring like he wanted to tell her how to use the piano properly. From then on, they would meet every day at noon or so, and Falin would begrudgingly teach her something new to play. Witnessing the grumpy man play Mary Had a Little Lamb while glaring at her was so comical, it became practically a core memory for her. Now, she could play a multitude of simple tunes, and at the end of each lesson, she and Falin would play together.

Y/n would never dare to ask Falin if it was true, but she was pretty sure the duets they played were his own compositions. He knew them better than the most elementary, famous tunes.

Another hobby of hers was dancing. While by no means a dancer, Y/n loved twirling around to the record player. Many of the records Wren had were classical, but there were a select few in a genre of music she liked. So, those were the ones she played. It was a great outlet.

Soon enough though, her dance time clashed with Wren’s practice time, and she was swiftly kicked out of the recreation room. However, if she was quiet and watched through the cracked open door, she could see their breathtaking figure use the room to its full capacity from the door cracked ajar. Their form was absolutely majestic, graceful limbs curving and stretching to the music. The way they moved was awe-inspiring, and she couldn’t help but watch, even if her own opportunity to dance had been thwarted for the time being.

This strategy to watch Wren’s spectacular display of skill had succeeded up until the previous night, when Wren caught a glimpse of her and reacted by chucking their half-empty water bottle at her head. Needless to say, she would not be visiting them tonight.

Wren and Y/n got along once in awhile though: they had given her permission to use the record player after all. Wren, Y/n had figured out, was a little bit of a brat. When they asked you a question, no matter how personal, they expected an answer, but would huff something along the lines of “that doesn’t concern you” if you returned the query. Banter with Wren was very, very entertaining.

Alternatively, she might head to the room behind the staircase, which hadn’t been introduced to her until she spotted Dino about to enter it for the second time. Thankfully, it turned out to be a medium room they used as a library and public study: not a secret room they neglected to mention on purpose.

Surprisingly, Dino was an avid reader, and provided Y/n with quite the list of book recommendations. If he was there when she visited, they might sit on the couch together and read, sharing ideas and theories every now and then. Though she still hadn’t spent very much time with Dino other than reading with him, she felt oddly comfortable after deciding to reveal her plan to him, which he had accepted with open arms. At the moment, Dino was the only housemate who knew of her gamble.

He provided some very important insight as to how her plan could work after she gave him a run-down, and she was now a lot more confident in their ability to pull it off. Not only that, but Dino was kind enough to offer to train her in preparation for defeating Malik. At first, she thought that he wanted her to lift weights with him, something she wasn’t exactly ecstatic about. Apparently though, Dino’s idea of a workout was not just doing burpees and sit-ups, but sparring and teaching her how to use weapons.

Now that piqued her interest.

So, they agreed to meet every afternoon two hours before dinner, so they would be able to train for awhile and still have enough time to shower and wash up before having their meal. They would start with the basics first, Dino had told her, starting this evening.

Going back to her hobbies; if she didn’t feel like reading, she might find Jay in their room. If they were, Y/n could sit in his cushy chair and close her eyes, resting to the sound of graphite scratching paper and the soothing music of the warm breeze wafting through the open window. While Jay kept some paints and things in the recreation room, most of his supplies lived by his desk that was layered with sketches and random pencils. This made for a bit of a messy space, but it was tranquil nonetheless.

Jay had offered to paint her sometime and she was planning to take him up on his offer. Evidently, he was just as eager to do so, because in every instance they met each other, Jay would remind her of this, proposing one or two things he might add to her portrait.

He would talk about using her as a piece of paper as well, which she genuinely wouldn’t mind doing. The other residents had refused apparently, but Jay was set on their vision of painted scenery decorating a human canvas. Y/n was willing to give becoming one with the canvas a try. She was much more than willing actually, and very excited too as it seemed like it would be both therapeutic for her, and fulfilling for Jay’s imagination.

All in all, things were going pretty well. She was well fed, housed, treated kindly, and she had plenty of things to explore. She should be satisfied and relaxed; ready to put her idea in practice. And in some ways, she was. She was happy, content. Happier than she had been in a very long time, in all honesty.

So why was apprehension eating at her?

There was nothing to anticipate, nothing to fear yet. Her housemates had soothed her worries about Malik returning soon, convincing her that he would wait at least a couple months before visiting, and she trusted them to be correct. This was supposed to be a stage of waiting, watching the others for confirmation that she could trust them with her plan. There should be no insurmountable pit of dread in her stomach, this warning intuition.

Something was going to happen; she could feel it in her bones.

Frankly, Y/n had not been sleeping well. Ghosts had been haunting her lately, prying at her mind in sleep. All of the recent dreams she had turned out to be nightmares. And, even though it was usual for her to remember her dreams, all she could recall from each one was dreary smoke surrounding her, and an entity she could not put to a name or face. She had even woken to find trails of dried tears streaking across her skin a couple of times, but even then she still could not recall what happened while in slumber.

She could only assume these reoccurring dreams of hers had something to do with Malik. Sure, she could be a lot more nervous than she was aware of subconsciously, but that didn’t explain the foreboding shadow of unease clinging to her back. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Even her cat had noticed that she was on edge. As soon as she sat down, Milo made it his mission to get as close to her as physically possible: exactly what he was doing at the moment on her bed. If she did anything but sit there and put up with his feline demands, he would give her hand a reprimanding nip. The way he showed affection was typically through cuddles, so that part was normal of him, but the biting was very out of character for Milo. Whether he was trying to comfort her or protect her, she didn’t know.

Y/n couldn’t really do anything about her troubles but hope everything would be fine. All she could do was wait, train with Dino, and find out as much about Malik as she possibly could. There had to be something other than poison that could kill him, or at the very least incapacitate him.

She would try to be calm and loosen up. This would be her only chance for awhile to do things she liked. She might as well take advantage of the resources belonging to Malik while she still could. She would enjoy herself now, and worry and work later. And then, he would go down. Or would she?

She had other things to worry about, like what to do about her newfound...feelings.

A unspoken phenomenon that had begun to occur recently: the foreign closeness she felt with her housemates. Though they hadn’t known each other very long, she felt connected to them in a way she simply could not explain. It wasn’t just emotionally because they had similar hobbies or personalities. Sure, she got along well enough with everyone minus Wren after yesterday's incident, but still, the feeling tickled her. It was the beginning of a feeling that comes from deep inside the heart. The kind that starts with a mere sense of companionship and ends with...a word Y/n refused to say aloud.

She felt drawn to them, a familiar comfort coming over her when they were near. And, oddly enough, an inkling told her that they were feeling the same pull.

Y/n did not consider herself a touchy person. First and foremost came the shelter of the other person she was interacting with, meaning that if they did not show signs of wanting physical interaction, she would not offer any unless explicitly told that she could. She liked touch; being perfectly fine with hugs and cuddles from a friend or significant other, but she would always prioritize another’s ease over her own. Since she had practiced this for so long, touch was not a big part of her life: not even with her parents. Was it a flaw of hers? Sure, maybe, but it was a principle she stood by. So…this feeling was very strange for her.

She wanted to touch them. Nothing too far of course, just little, touchy, ultimately meaningless actions she had never really thought of doing before. Brushing her hand against another, fiddling with someone’s hair, napping on the same couch, fixing a crooked piercing. She kept getting these types of thoughts in her head around the residents so often that she might just start doing some of them without thinking.

Y/n realized that a good portion of the residents wouldn’t mind if she acted on her trivial thoughts—some of them initiated similar touchy actions with her on the daily even, but on the other hand, it could be so embarrassing if touch became a habit of hers. She could imagine a blunder occurring in the future, where she forgets who she’s hanging out with and does something stupid, like lean her head on Wren’s shoulder by mistake.

She winced. She might be found dead in a ditch before Malik could even get the time to plan her demise.

Speaking of time, it was just past 7 am, her early start to the day the result of waking from a nightmare she could not visualize yet again. The only part she could recollect was the same unknown figure, swathed in dense, gray fog. The sensation that caused her to stir though was not this image, but a feeling of fear so intense that her body must’ve thought she might die, forcing her to awaken. When she did, she had to choke back a scream of terror that nearly slipped out.

It had felt so raw, so real, whatever it had been. No night terror of hers had ever been so gutturally petrifying. Yet, she still did not know what she had been so afraid of.

Milo's round eyes hadn't left her since her yell woke him. She may not have seen how he reacted initially, but she'd heard a thud beside her bed before his weight returned to her lap, so she could guess well enough. Guilt wrapped around her like a itchy, uncomfortable blanket.

The first night this had happened had been fine, manageable. After awhile, she went back to sleep, and the next day she arose feeling fairly alright. But, lack of rest was catching up to her in the present, and in order to get through the day, it was almost required for her to take a nap, sometimes multiple. Even then, some naps were interrupted by the dream as well.

Her body went from generously rested to utterly exhausted in just a week, the fast transition sapping the energy from her body. The only thing she could do about it was have some hot, un-caffeinated tea before bedtime and hope that she would be roused by the morning sun and not sheer fright.

For the time being, she would do her best to take care of herself. What better way to do so than have a nice, warm bath?

Y/n took great care to grab all she needed before making her way to the bathroom. Bathrobe—check. Towel—check. All of her other needs were in the bathroom nearest to the stairs already, perched upon the pearly shelves lining one wall.

This was an odd aspect of Jules Mansion. While the second floor was very large, consisting of eight bedrooms, the restroom situation was a little out of the ordinary. The mansion had a grand total of two bathrooms.

Neither of which were on the second floor. If you needed to relieve yourself, you had to go downstairs to do so.

This made for some awkward situations between the residents. Just last Thursday, Y/n ran into Falin, who was making an in-opportune mad-dash to his room from the lavatory by the stairway. Clothed in just a towel that he was desperately clutching to his body, Falin was just as beet-red and silent as Y/n as they passed each other. Two days after that, Dino did the same thing, without the rush.

Dino had been entirely clueless actually, sending a casual wave to a partially dumbstruck, partially astounded Y/n as he meandered back to his bedroom. If Y/n hadn’t been sure that he worked out before, she was positive now.

And positively mortified.

Still, she was looking forward to a bath. She had taken showers of course, but hadn’t had the opportunity to take a bath yet. Nobody she knew of would be up at this hour, so she would have the restroom to herself for a long period.

A bonus of using the bathroom by the staircase was that it was much larger than its counterpart; the bathroom at the back of the mansion. It had a combo shower and bathtub that took up a good portion of the area, but still left plenty of space to be used. The bath could accommodate one person easily, and was big enough to be comfortable with two inside. Not that she planned on sharing, but it was a far cry from the terrible shower in her former apartment or the small, aged tub at her parents house that barely fit her.

Though it had been used by six or so men for seven years, the bathrooms were very clean, including all of the nooks and crannies only her mother would make the effort to clean at home. This made it all the more exciting for Y/n—a chance to relax in a pristine, appealing space.

She could picture the spotless bathroom, the lighting faint and cozy from the candles on the sink alight and the lamp dimmed. Clear water gurgling cheerily, filling the round tub and turning foamy with some bubble solution she came across once. The basin brimming, the quiet chattering of the candle flame and water pleasantly caressing her limbs. Y/n closed her eyes in anticipation as she walked by the other bedrooms.

As she approached the last door on the right though, she stopped, staring at the placard on it for the hundredth time since she'd entered Jules Mansion. The door belonged to Leo.

It was not locked; she knew this because she had grasped the knob and turned it quite easily out of curiosity once before, but she hadn’t entered out of respect. But oh, how she wanted to.

The feeling that Y/n had for her other housemates was kindred for Leo’s vacated room. She sensed the same pull, not to mess with Leo’s decayed body or anything alarming like that, but to open his door and set foot inside. While Y/n could accept this lure toward the living residents—a sensation of comfort and charm was not abnormal between people—but for a dead person’s bedroom? Absolutely not.

She did wonder what was in there, if anything that Leo once kept would help her, but there was no way she’d invade the room of someone deceased out of simple curiosity. That would be practically begging to get haunted. Maybe, someday, she would take a look with the permission of another resident.

Or she could just…peek inside a little.

Drawing in a strained breath and holding it, Y/n clasped the handle. Just a peep—nothing more, she reminded herself. Slowly, she turned it, as to not make a sound.

And then one of the doors down the hall opened.

Wide-eyed and panicked, Y/n snatched her hand back to her body, pivoting to the open door. She did not think to walk away from Leo's room to hide her intentions, unable to budge an inch.

The one exiting their room was Jay, half-asleep and trudging out in slippers, pajama shorts, and chest tape. Their blond hair was partly squished on the side from sleep, golden piercings replaced with silver for a change. When he noticed Y/n standing at the end of the hall like a deer in headlights, he blinked sleepily, then glanced down at his torso with a barely audible grunt.

“…Morning?”

“M-morning!” Y/n replied hastily, hoping Jay hadn’t noticed whose door she was guarding.

Jay rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah! I…I slept fine. You?” Y/n grimaced at her fib.

Jay’s speech was slightly slurred from drowsiness, so maybe, just maybe, she would get away with what she had been about to do.

“Mm, alright. Not too bad.” They did a double take, squinting at her location and glancing at Leo’s room, an odd look on their face. “Whatcha doin…?”

Or not.

“Well- uh, I was…” She sighed. There was no use lying to Jay. She wanted to be his friend, not someone he couldn’t believe in. “I was going to peek in Leo’s room. I know it’s so messed up, and I’m really sorry to disrespect his space and all the things you guys and he went through, and I truly, honestly was just going to look for a second because I couldn’t get rid of this dumb-“

“Feeling?” Jay’s eyes enlarged, suddenly fully conscious. “You can feel the pull?”

“I mean,” Y/n began to calm, realizing Jay wasn’t angry. “I-I can feel something like that.”

“Holy shit.” She gawked at them, taken aback. “…Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Y/n started. “Just didn’t expect you to curse much, if at all.”

“Oh really? Not even with all of these?” He gestured to his various piercings and scar, sending an additional flourish to his yellow hair. She shook her head. “I guess you aren’t the type to stereotype.”

He smiled sweetly. “I like that about you.”

Her mouth gaped, not expecting Jay to flirt with her. Jay, looking much happier than when Y/n first saw him, laughed at her expression, then continued his questioning.

“So you feel the pull. To enter Leo’s room alone or…?” He gazed at her expectantly.

“For-,” Y/n could detect her face getting warm and hesitated, embarrassed. “For all of you, actually,” she mumbled.

Jay let out another short laugh, disbelieving, but also… relieved?

“We were worried that you didn’t feel it. It’s been driving Wren and Falin crazy in particular because they don’t understand what’s going on. I’m guessing you don’t either.”

“Nope,” she replied, popping the ‘p’.

“But,” she carried on. “What do you guys feel? Who says we all feel the same thing?”

“We want to touch you,” Jay said candidly, then immediately backtracked. “I’m so sorry, that came out wrong.”

“It’s fine,” Y/n's cheeks flushed more.

“What I mean is though some of us don’t really like physical touch, we'd like to have certain moments with you. Nothing too far or weird, just-“

“Little things?” Y/n offered. “Sharing a blanket, back scratches, stuff like that?”

“Yeah, little things.” Jay gave her a soft smile. “Anyway, I guess we’re all on the same page, even about wanting to go in Leo’s room. We’ve all been in there at least once each, but haven’t found a reason why we had the need to go in. And as far as I know, everyone still has that sentiment. It’s possible that you can find it, whatever it may be.”

“Are you saying you trust me to look around Leo’s room?” This touched Y/n. Never had she thought that anyone would have faith in her to visit such a treasured place in search for an answer. “Are you sure?”

“Very,” He responded, but Y/n still wasn’t convinced. Jay noticed this and reassured her. “I trust you. And I trust that the others do too. Go on.”

She nodded, sending him a grateful smile, which he returned. Then, she turned back to the doorknob and reached for it.

“I am going to leave you to your own devices though.”

Surprised, Y/n looked toward Jay again, who was grinning cheekily.

“What? Might as well use the shower before you get to it.”

She snorted. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, yes. Izuma was talking about making French toast last night, so you have that to look forward to. Have fun searching!” He began making his way downstairs.

“Oh, one more thing…” Y/n scanned them inquisitively once more as Jay’s smile became mischievous.

“I hope you like flowers.”

~~~

On that cryptic note, which Y/n was completely bewildered about, she could finally go into Leo’s room—with permission. So, without dilly-dallying, she carefully jostled the handle and pushed the door.

What greeted her on the other side was a well kept area, sort of. While the desk was neat and the bed made, the walls were covered in posters and paintings. Some she could recognize as Jay’s style, others not. The posters contrasted the attractive canvas’, vibrant and comprised of several different bands. “Seven Fold”, “DEADEND”, “bored”. Leo had quite the taste in music once, it seemed.

Some of Leo’s things were strewn across the floor and hastily put in odd places. A stack of books by the window, a pencil holder behind the door, some notes on the sill. Not a single thing was where it would be common to have been put. She got the sense that it hadn’t been the residents to do this. Perhaps Leo had been in a rush the day he died?

Y/n shut her eyes as bad thoughts filled her mind. That was depressing to think about.

Everything was draped in a layer of dust, which further saddened Y/n. Even the things that most likely had been messed with more recently were dusty. Leo wouldn’t be pleased to know his friends left his belongings to age and fade.

There was something in particular that perplexed Y/n. Under the desk was a square, blue rug. Excluding the interesting shape, it would be considered fairly usual, if it weren’t that the room was already carpeted. Y/n glanced at it in thought. The fine rug didn’t do a great job of hiding the thin, sunken lines beneath it either.

The what.

Y/n whirled around, staring intensely at the rectangular indentation. There was no way. No way her housemates missed this.

Right away, Y/n dragged the table out of the corner and scooped up the strange rug, tossing it away unceremoniously—which she instantly regretted, going over to it to bestow an apologetic pat to its surface. Quickly again, she went back to the part of the carpet under the desk, squealing a bit at the now barren hiding space Leo had left behind.

She wasted no time dropping to her knees and ripping up the poorly cut section of carpet, which was glued to a wooden board. There lay a box, a wonderful, terrific box. Her hands shook a little in anticipation, holding it like a glass and tenderly prying the lid and base apart. It was exactly what she needed, the best possible solution to her troubles, the flawless finishing touch to her plan. The last puzzle piece.

It was perfect.