As Sarah approached the grand entrance of the Hek Mansion, the imposing doors creaked open seemingly on their own. A tall, well-dressed man appeared in the doorway, his posture as impeccable as the gleaming marble floors beyond.

"Good morning, miss. Master Vastian informed us of your arrival. I am David. Should you need anything during your visit, please do not hesitate to ask," he said, his voice calm and professional. "Please, follow me."

Sarah stepped over the threshold, her breath catching as she took in the mansion's grandeur. The vastness of the interior unfolded before her in a way that felt almost surreal, as if she had crossed into another world. Sunlight filtered through towering windows, casting patterns of light and shadow across polished floors, while intricate, antique furnishings lined the walls like pieces in an art gallery. Each room seemed to be in a silent competition with the next, revealing layers of opulence that hinted at the deep, hidden history of the Hek family. But despite the splendor, something darker lingered in the air, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

It wasn't until they entered what appeared to be the living room that Sarah's attention was abruptly stolen by the man seated near the fireplace. His presence was overwhelming, like an unspoken force commanding the very space around him.

"Welcome, Sarah. It's always a pleasure to meet a friend of my grandson," the man said smoothly, his eyes locking onto hers with a weight that felt unbearable. His voice, though polite, carried an undertone of authority that made Sarah's skin crawl. "Oh, forgive my manners. I'm Gerald Hek. Please, make yourself at home."

Gerald Hek. The stories she'd heard about him did little to prepare her for the reality of standing in his presence. A cold chill ran down her spine. There was no other word to describe it—terror. It washed over her like a wave, rooting her to the spot. The tales of his intimidation, whispered in dark corners and through hushed tones, suddenly felt all too real. Nyra had told her about the man, brushing off the rumors about how his mere words could bring battle-hardened soldiers and seasoned agents to their knees. In this moment, Sarah couldn't help but wonder if the stories had been understated rather than exaggerated. His very aura seemed to drain the room of warmth, suffocating it with his mere presence.

Before Sarah could spiral further into the grip of fear, Vas's voice rang out, snapping her back to the present.

"Oh, Sarah, you're here," Vas called as he descended the stairs. His casual demeanor contrasted sharply with the tension in the room. Dressed in laid-back clothes, he seemed entirely at ease in front of the man who had turned her insides to ice.

He smiled, raising an eyebrow at her outfit. "You really had to dress up that much just for a friendly visit?" he teased, his words breaking through the haze of dread that had clouded her mind.

Sarah blinked, quickly composing herself. "Oh, I have a show later today," she explained, trying to match his casual tone. "Figured I'd save time by coming here already dressed for it."

"That makes sense," Vas replied easily, as though the looming presence of his grandfather wasn't even worth noticing. "Grandfather, I'm going to take Sarah to the garden, if that's alright."

Gerald's eyes flickered toward Vas, his expression softening slightly, though the weight of his gaze still lingered on Sarah. "Of course, early bird. Have fun."

The subtle shift in Gerald's tone was unsettling. He smiled, but Sarah couldn't help but feel that he was still watching her, dissecting her with an invisible scalpel. As she followed Vas toward the garden, she fought to shake off the feeling that she had barely escaped an encounter with something far more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

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Once in the garden, Vas led Sarah to a secluded stone bench beneath the sprawling canopy of an ancient oak tree. The garden, though beautiful in its immaculately manicured paths and vibrant flowers, felt heavy with the same unsettling aura as the mansion. The thick silence was punctuated by the rustling of leaves, and every now and then, a breeze would sweep through, carrying the scent of something metallic, almost like blood.

Vas gestured for Sarah to sit, his demeanor shifting to something more serious. His usual calmness was laced with a quiet intensity, his dark eyes focused as if he was already anticipating something dangerous.

"Alright, what did you find out?" Vas asked, his voice low but firm, the weight of the question filling the space between them.

Sarah shifted in her seat, casting a quick glance around the eerily still garden, as if to reassure herself they were alone. She took a breath, her unease evident as she began to speak.

"Robbie heard something while tattooing one of the rich kids. You know how they like to talk when they're getting inked. Apparently, there's this group—they meet in Mad Radio." She paused, gauging Vas's reaction.

"Mad Radio?" Vas raised an eyebrow. It wasn't the first time he'd heard of the notorious club, but hearing it in this context made it sound far more sinister.

"Yeah," Sarah continued, her voice lowering as if she feared being overheard even though they were alone. "It's mostly rich kids, but that's not the weird part. They've got this contact—someone who gives them these small rocks, shaped like squares."

Vas frowned, leaning forward. "Rocks? What do they do?"

Sarah hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her dress. "That's the thing. These rocks... tablets, really. They say if you use one, you can get whatever you want."

Vas's brow furrowed. "That sounds too convenient. What's the catch?"

She swallowed, her face paling slightly. "The catch is you have to sacrifice someone. That's what makes the tablets work. And... there are these objectives."

The word sacrifice hung in the air like a suffocating cloud. Vas felt a chill creep up his spine, his skin prickling as he processed the gravity of what she was saying. "Objectives?" His voice was sharp now, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Sarah nodded, her fingers trembling slightly as she spoke. "Yeah, from what Robbie overheard, if you just kill someone random, the tablet grants a wish, but... if you target a specific person—someone on a list, someone important—the reward is greater. It's like... a twisted game."

Vas's stomach twisted in revulsion. "So, the more important the target, the better the reward?"

"Exactly." Sarah's voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper. "And some of these targets aren't just random nobodies. They're people in power, people with influence. That's what makes this so dangerous."

Vas leaned back, his mind racing. "And no one's talking about this? No whispers in the underworld? Nothing?"

Sarah's eyes darted around the garden again, as if the very shadows might be listening. "That's what's so creepy about it. No one outside this group seems to know, and those who do... they're scared. Really scared. Robbie said the kid he was tattooing mentioned seeing things—horrible things—after one of the sacrifices. Like the air itself got heavier. The room would change. He said..."

Vas noticed her hesitation, the color draining from her face. "He said what?"

Sarah's voice faltered, her next words barely escaping her lips. "He said he saw shadows moving, like they were alive. Watching. Waiting for the moment of the kill."