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In the vast palace hall, where crystal chandeliers shimmer under the bright glow of candles, and large windows overlook the shining full moon, with heavy red curtains, nobles and dignitaries gather in their luxurious clothes, holding their glasses in hand as the endless sounds of their discussions rise.
"Today, the new king will be crowned."
"Yes, but who is he?"
As they spoke, the music swelled, announcing the arrival of the awaited king. The grand door to the hall slowly opened, and silence spread throughout the place. Shock began to appear on the faces of those present as they heard the sound of small footsteps walking on the long red carpet leading to the gold-covered throne.
The air grew heavy with tension, and whispers rose:
"Is he still just a child?"
"Why would the king abdicate to such a young boy?"
Reishel Galverhad — a child no older than ten — walked forward with confident steps, dressed in a white suit embroidered with royal blue threads. Behind him walked Silas, his personal guard and loyal servant, his steps perfectly synchronized, his sharp eyes carefully observing the guests as they exchanged anxious glances.
Reishel continued his approach until he stood before the throne and bowed respectfully. King Daiford Galverhad removed his crown, and with a solemn gesture, began to place it on his son's head. But suddenly, a fierce wind blew through the palace, violently flinging the windows open. The curtains swayed wildly, the candles were extinguished, and the hall was plunged into utter darkness.
The darkness lasted only moments before the candles reignited, one by one. But before anyone could catch their breath, a chilling scream pierced the silence!
A body lay sprawled on the ground — Count Garvin Stewart — with a silver dagger buried in the base of his neck. His eyes were wide open, his mouth agape... and his tongue was cut off. But the strangest part was that not a single drop of blood was present!
Curiosity gripped Reishel, and he cautiously approached the body. But as soon as his gaze fixed on the count's face, the man's eyes suddenly moved and locked directly onto Reishel's. Reishel recoiled in terror, and before he could process what had happened, the candles went out again.
After a few seconds, the hall lit up once more — but this time... it was completely empty!
The guests had disappeared.
The servants had disappeared.
Even the corpse... had disappeared!
Fear crept into Reishel's heart as he called out:
"Father?"
"Silas?"
"Emily?"
But no one answered. The silence was suffocating, and the atmosphere sent chills down his spine.
Reishel glanced around until he spotted a mirror standing in the center of the hall — a mirror that hadn't been there before. He cautiously approached, but the shock came when the mirror did not reflect his image. Instead, it looked like a bottomless black void.
Hesitantly, he reached out to touch the glass. But the moment his fingers grazed the surface, countless small hands emerged from within, gripping his arm tightly.
Reishel screamed and tried to resist, but the hands were many and impossibly strong. They dragged his entire body into the mirror, and he found himself falling into suffocating darkness.
The darkness gradually faded, and before him appeared a dim, ancient-looking cellar. Reishel slowly stood up, cautiously inspecting his surroundings. Suddenly, the cellar door creaked open.
Reishel froze in place when he saw... Count Garvin Stewart entering the cellar.
The count walked in and sat on a rickety wooden chair, pulling out a pocket watch and staring impatiently at its ticking hands, as if waiting for someone.
Thoughts raced through Reishel's mind:
"What's happening? Wasn't he killed just moments ago?"
"And why does it seem like he can't see me?"
Before he could find an answer, the door opened again. A tall figure entered — with a human body, but a face completely shrouded in darkness, save for two glowing red eyes.
Stewart stood up angrily and snapped:
"You're late! I've been waiting for you for too long!"
But the strange figure did not speak or move.
Stewart continued in a low, threatening voice:
"Tell me... how much will you pay me to bury your secret? You know very well that your exposure means your end. So, what do you say?"
The figure remained silent, then advanced toward Stewart, swiftly pulling a silver dagger from behind his back and, with a quick motion, stabbed it into the base of the count's neck.
Stewart writhed in agony before collapsing, lifeless. The figure bent over the corpse, pulled a rusty pair of scissors from his pocket, pried Stewart's mouth open, and cut off his tongue without hesitation.
He tossed the tongue aside, wiped his bloodied hands with a handkerchief, and quietly left the cellar as if nothing had happened.
As for Reishel, he stood in the corner of the cellar, his body trembling, his eyes filled with shock and nausea.
But before he could catch his breath, a dense fog began to fill the room. Gradually, the cellar faded away... and a long corridor appeared in its place....
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