image [https://img.wattpad.com/story_parts/1503224906/images/1811be0127e57af8619327987805.jpg]

No matter how much you squint, there isn't as much of a trace of Sylus's form down the hallway.

"Well, don't tell me he's some sort of old vampire who disappears at the most inconvenient times," you mutter.

"Oh no, ma'am. Master Sylus is certainly no vampire, I can assure you." A woman's voice sounds behind you.

Startled, you whip around to see a staff member in black and white, her hair braided neatly over her shoulder.

"This way, ma'am. I bet you're exhausted, so let's get you to your room," she says.

Following her around the expanse of the manor, you notice long, red curtains draping over tall windows from impossibly high ceilings. The walls are trimmed with wooden etchings of flowers, and what you could have sworn are dragons, but most likely gargoyles. The warm light from gold-leafed sconces reflects elegantly on the crystal chandeliers glimmering above your head.

"It's beautiful," you whisper.

"Oh yes, Master Sylus has fine taste." She shares proudly. "He won't have it any other way, and he spares no expense to keep all of this in top shape." Smiling, she guides you up a spiraling wooden staircase.

You trail your fingertips along the smooth mahogany railing that seems to go up into the heavens. Moonlight filters in from a colorful stained glass skylight smugly set at the top of the manor's ceiling. You wonder how a viper like Sylus could have such an appreciation for the delicate details of this place. Finally arriving in front of a white wooden door, the woman clicks the lock open, and you step inside.

Finally arriving in front of a white wooden door, the woman clicks the lock open, and you step inside [https://img.wattpad.com/63b8780ce9b7d6cadd75aabf2ca8d8ca0cb9b364/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f2d6c74376a616f617a576a5656773d3d2d313530333232343930362e313831316265303439366361616463343535383832373037313638372e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

"I'll prepare a nice hot bath for you, ma'am. Go ahead and get settled." She says, scurrying to the washroom.

"Well, it's not like I have any bags or anything. I didn't exactly expect to be staying at Psycho Manor tonight," you mumble, strolling around the decorated room. The pinks and plums of the drapery and bedding create a romantic atmosphere, and a lovely fireplace sits beneath a decorated white mantle with a vintage mirror perched on top.

"Not to worry, ma'am, Master Sylus has taken care of that. Please help yourself with the selection of clothes in your wardrobe," the woman calls out as the splashing of water sounds.

Spotting the wardrobe, you tilt your head and wrap your fingers around the gold knobs of the painted, wooden doors, pulling it open. A cascade of exquisite gowns greets you, their luxurious fabrics catching the light: satin, velvet, chiffon, and more. You run your hand over the intricate textures, pausing to raise an eyebrow at an overly lacy piece. All of them are in your exact size. Stunning, yes, but impossibly extravagant. Who does he think he is? You scoff under your breath, shutting the wardrobe with a firm push. What a show-off.

Wandering to the balcony, your palm meets the cold glass of the windowpane as your gaze falls on the sprawling manor gardens below. The soft rustling of the trees does little to calm the storm brewing in your chest. Your eyes flit to your hand, to the spot where Sylus's lips had brushed against earlier. The memory sends your mind spiraling through the evening's chaos. What is he playing at? Why did he seem so... desperate when my Evol sparked?

You exhale, tension coiling in your shoulders as realization dawns. You need answers—but relying on his version of the truth isn't an option. If you're going to unravel his motives, you'll have to find your own way to uncover them.

"Would you mind telling me how long you've worked here?" You question the woman through the washroom door.

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"Certainly, ma'am, just about as long as Onychinus has inhabited this manor." She replies, the sound of water sloshing through the room.

You freeze. "Onychinus?" You repeat, eyes widening.

"Yes, this is the residence of Master Sylus, leader of Onychinus, ma'am." She replies.

You turn on your heel, marching towards the washroom. "You mean we're inside Onychinus's hideout?" Your voice grows sharp and panicked.

"That's right, ma'am- I apologize for the wait, but your bath is ready now." The woman chimes, brushing past you and towards the door. "I'm afraid I must leave you for the night. Please rest well."

"Wait!" You cry, but the woman gives you a quick bow and takes her leave.

Your palms grow clammy and your heart thumps loudly. Onychinus carries a reputation dark enough on its own, known as the natural enemy of the Hunter's Association. But its leader? Even darker. He's whispered about as a legend of infamy. He's painted as a man of cold-hearted cruelty, ruling his territory with a deadly grip. His list of crimes is the stuff of nightmares and the rumors speak of an old, battle-scarred warlord. Supposedly, he's covered in tattoos, with a ruined eye hidden beneath a patch, every inch of him hardened by a life of violence.

But Sylus? He shatters every preconception. He's younger than you imagined—his hair might be silver, but his chiseled features and milky skin say otherwise. His scent is an intoxicating blend of expensive cologne, a far cry from the gritty persona you expected. His movements are fluid, almost regal, more befitting a prince, though a strategic and conniving one, than a barbaric criminal overlord. But his attitude... that's another story.

You stumble into the bathroom, peeling off your clothes in a daze. The hot water engulfs you as you sink into the tub, the comforting scents of lavender and sage filling the air. You scrub your skin raw, attempting to wash away not just the grime but also the lingering unease from the day. Still, the image of Sylus kneeling in front of you in the infirmary, tenderly applying bandages and sliding his hand softly down your leg lingers in your mind. You knit your brows and groan, feeling a throb in your head. None of it makes sense.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/d8538c79c1d6a9ea760d2a6f01a593b0bdeac15f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f53386c45496e70527755346f47773d3d2d313530333232343930362e313831316265316163313065366363643137393037343636363733312e706e67]

"Gods, and no wonder he talked about the Hunter's Association with such disgust. I should have known." You grumble aloud, lathering your face with more force than necessary. You've been hunting down Onychinus since you were just a trainee, so when you think about it, this is a golden opportunity to make a case that could change everything for the Hunter's Association. This is the whole reason you joined to begin with, to fight for a safer Linkon City, and you've always worn your Hunter's uniform with pride.

Memories from grandma's house well up, and you can still smell the hot pot she whipped up the day you were accepted into the organization. Your throat tightens, and your eyes sting. A bomb planted in the area where grandma lived had exploded while you were away, presumably the work of Onychinus. And just like that, you were alone again—except for Zayne. He was always there when you needed him most, and your chest ached as you felt your growing need for his reassurance. I failed you, grandma. But I'm going to make it right. Pressing your lips in a line, you quickly rinse off and step out of the tub, wrapping a plush towel around your body. You find your phone buried in the pocket of your ruined dress, grateful it's still in one piece after that bout with the metal piece of junk in the arena.

Switching it on, you're surprised to see no new messages from your team, but more importantly, no missed calls from Zayne. You quickly thumb over to your messaging app, frantically typing out a message to him before hitting send. The chat bubble remains suspended, so you send it again, and then for good measure, you hit send a third time but to no avail. A red exclamation mark appears, indicating a loss of signal. You click your tongue and pad over to the balcony window, stretching your phone above your head. Still nothing. Dammit, that snake is probably jamming my signal. Does he think of everything?

Defeated, you toss your phone on the soft covers of the bed before tugging on some undergarments and silk pajamas you grabbed from the wardrobe. You pace around the room, pressing your fist over your mouth. If Sylus had anything to do with the bombing incident... you shiver. Regardless, you were dead set on taking the leader of Onychinus down, for good. Your attention catches at two familiar black heels placed on the floor at the edge of the bed. Tilting your head, you bend down to examine them. They're shiny and clean, and most definitely yours. You part your lips, brows furrowing. Did Sylus...go back to the arena to get these for me? And when did he have time to put them here? You swivel your head, half expecting to see the silver-haired monster emerge from the shadows, but no one is there. You take a deep breath, then let it out slowly, steadily, though your chest is tight. You set them down, seeking the sweet reprieve of a soft mattress and a good night's sleep.

Slipping into the cool sheets, you sink blissfully into the comfort of the bed. Images of Sylus—no, the cruel leader of Onychinus—nag at you. His composed demeanor and smug charisma linger like a toxin, daring you to try and undermine him. His presence is both composed and unsettling, seeming to challenge your resolve even now. But that's a game you'll play tomorrow. For now, exhaustion drags you under, pulling you into the restless embrace of sleep.