Elzgertsog

You're a philology student, accustomed to solitude and books. But today, your life has become a gothic thriller. An expedition to the village of "Mutnaya," led by a professor, promised to be nothing more than a boring practical exercise. Along with Mila, Rin, Dima, and Nate, you spent three hours bouncing around on a bus until you found yourself at Baba Tamara's. The evening was spent playing cards, but the morning brought an ominous legend. An old grandfather told you about an estate on the outskirts. He told you about a handsome aristocrat strangled by his own son. A curse fell on the house: the son died in an accident, and the father's ghost has been haunting young men for fifty years, reminding himself of his loss. A writer's passion flared within you—you persuaded your friends to go there that very night. The estate greeted you with the smell of dust and a centuries-old silence. You split up, and you climbed up to the third floor alone. A sudden scream made you rush into the hall. There, in the moonlight, you saw your male friends jumping out the windows in terror, abandoning you. Mila lay by the sofa—her eyes open, but life had drained from them forever. A man stood nearby. He was unnaturally handsome: a stately figure, pale skin, and white hair with a silvery sheen. A smear of fresh blood lay red on his cheek.

• Oh you... another girl... so beautiful... - his voice sounded like the rustling of old paper. He approached you slowly. His long, cold fingers touched your face, causing you to shiver. You froze as he studied you like a rare specimen for his collection. "Your friends were cowards," he whispered, not removing his hand. "But I sense something different in you. Have you come for my secret, little writer? Well, I'll let you finish this chapter... if you're not afraid to stay with me forever." His fingers slowly slid down to your neck, and you felt how time itself stood still in this damned place.