Alex took a long, skeptical look at the enormous, crumbling mansion looming before him. It was the kind of place you’d see in horror movies or the sort of nightmare you’d suddenly wake up from, only to feel relief at being in your own, very normal home. He leaned forward in his seat, glancing at the driver.

“This… this can’t be the right place,” he said, his tone hovering somewhere between disbelief and resignation. “Are you sure there isn’t some kind of mistake? I was told I’d have accommodations, not a full-blown ghost-hunting experience.”

The driver, a seasoned man with a bored expression and graying hair, glanced at him in the rearview mirror and gave a short nod. “It’s the correct address, sir. HQ arranged it. They thought you’d appreciate the, uh, ‘privacy’ of a more secluded location while working with Mr. Monroe.”

Alex sighed, trying to process the idea that HQ had sent him to the stuff of local horror legends. He’d read about this place when he looked up the neighborhood—people said it had a reputation for being haunted. Some even claimed to hear whispers echoing through the halls at night, or see shadowy figures lurking by the windows. It was, according to locals, the *number one place to scare the living daylight out of someone*.

“Privacy, right,” he muttered under his breath as he got out of the van, eyeing the towering, ivy-covered structure with distaste. “So private that even the ghosts have left it alone.”

The driver hopped out, opened the trunk, and began unloading Alex’s bags. “The rest of your essentials will be dropped off later by the supply team,” he said matter-of-factly, seeming oblivious to Alex’s unease. “Best get settled in, sir. Plenty of rooms to choose from.”

Alex’s gaze was fixed on the dark, dusty windows as if one of those shadowy figures might appear at any moment. He half-hoped the driver would laugh and reveal this was all an elaborate joke, but no such luck.

“Great. Just great.” He picked up his bags, straightened his shoulders, and began trudging toward the door, muttering under his breath. “Just me, a haunted mansion, and a cleaning crew that won’t be here until later. Can’t believe they didn’t just send someone to prepare it first.”

The driver gave a quick salute and hopped back in the van, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts and a faint sense of dread. With one last, reluctant look at the house, he pushed the heavy, creaky door open and stepped inside.

The interior was, if possible, even worse than he’d anticipated. The stale scent of dust and old wood filled the air, and cobwebs draped from the ceiling in thick, ghostly strands. He squinted in the dim lighting, already picturing the hours of cleaning he had ahead of him.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“So much for a professional setup,” he grumbled, stepping forward and looking around. His footsteps echoed in the empty, cavernous space, each one kicking up a new cloud of dust that made him sneeze.

He set his bags down with a thud and did a slow turn, taking in the sad state of the entryway, where an ancient chandelier dangled precariously, missing several crystals. A grand staircase loomed in front of him, each step coated in dust and likely creaking under any weight.

“This place is less ‘celebrity bodyguard setup’ and more ‘get-out-while-you-can’ vibes,” he muttered, already wishing he could trade the whole scene for a clean hotel room. “Couldn’t they have at least sent someone in with a vacuum?”

With a resigned sigh, Alex grabbed an old broom he found leaning by the doorway and started sweeping up what he could. His first task, he figured, was making the place at least slightly less hazardous. But as he swept, he could almost feel eyes on him, like the house itself was watching his every move. He brushed it off as paranoia until he felt a sudden cold breeze sweep through the room, rustling the cobwebs and sending a chill down his spine.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder, expecting to see… well, he didn’t know what he expected to see. Shaking his head, he returned to his task, now muttering to himself just to fill the silence.

“Alright, Alex, just clean up a bit, settle in, and don’t let this place get to you,” he coached himself. But as he moved from room to room, each space seemed even more foreboding than the last, with ancient portraits on the walls that seemed to follow him, and mirrors coated in a layer of grime that didn’t entirely mask the unsettling reflections within.

As the hours ticked by, his grumbling grew louder. “This is ridiculous. Haunted mansion, creepy old furniture… next thing you know, something’s going to pop out and—”

At that very moment, something creaked loudly behind him. He whipped around, broom held like a makeshift weapon, heart pounding. But all he saw was an old suit of armor by the wall, looking dusty and innocuous. He relaxed, chuckling nervously to himself. “Just a suit of armor. Nothing to worry about.”

He turned back to his cleaning, only for the armor to let out a metallic *clank*, as if something inside it had shifted.

“Alright, that’s it,” Alex said, dropping the broom and backing away. “I’ve seen enough horror movies to know where this is going.”

Just as he made for the door, he heard a soft whisper echo through the empty hall: “Alex…”

His heart skipped a beat. He darted for the door, his mind racing with images of ghosts and shadows.

Throwing open the front door, he bolted outside, slamming it shut behind him as he gasped for breath. “Nope, nope, nope. Not dealing with ghosts today.”

As he paced around the front porch, he fished his phone out and called HQ, hoping they’d pick up and reconsider his accommodations.

“HQ? Yeah, it’s Alex. Just a thought, but maybe—just maybe—you could get me somewhere that isn’t infested with dust, cobwebs, and possible poltergeists? Or at least send a cleaning crew before I have to risk my life inside?”

But HQ assured him the cleaning crew would arrive “later,” and that he’d just have to wait it out.

Sighing, he hung up and went back to the van, eyeing the creepy mansion with frustration. “Alright, fine. I’ll wait for the cleaning crew,” he muttered, settling himself into the passenger seat of the van. “But I’m not stepping back in there alone until it’s ghost-free.”

As he leaned back, closing his eyes, he silently hoped that the job would get easier. Unfortunately for him, with Max Monroe as his client, he was sure this haunted mansion was only the beginning.