The Whitcroft Manor slept in a veil of mist, like a ghost curled upon the hill. Inside, candle flames jittered in their glass cages, struggling to pierce the heavy dusk bleeding through the high stained-glass windows.

Lady Selene lounged across her crimson chaise, a pale hand draped lazily along the spine of a worn leather novel. Her long brown hair spilled like syrup down her back, gleaming faintly in the dim light. Gray eyes, sharp and glinting like silver blades, flicked toward the doorway as soft footsteps approached.

The four girls entered, their apprentice uniforms crisp and perfect despite the hour.

They gathered at respectful distance, each bowing low. Selene watched them with something between amusement and hunger.

Selene: "Adeline."

She pointed a pale finger at the tallest.

Selene: "Clara."

Her finger shifted to the blonde.

Selene: "Lys."

The nervous one.

Selene: "And sweet little Margot."

They all straightened, hands folded before them like proper lambs.

Selene: "I've been thinking." She closed the book with a deliberate, echoing snap. "We’re in need of a new apprentice maid."

The girls exchanged glances, confused, hesitant.

Adeline: "Begging your pardon, my Lady, but... we already serve you in shifts around the clock. Why would you need another?"

Selene smiled, slow and wicked, her perfect teeth glinting like porcelain knives.

Selene: "Why?" She stood gracefully, the crimson skirts of her gown whispering across the floor. Her gray eyes sparkled with mischief, and something far more dangerous. She leaned closer to the girls, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because, sweet ones... you can never have too many pretty things to nibble on between meals."

Clara flushed scarlet. Margot let out a soft, mortified squeak. Even Adeline bit her lip hard enough that Selene’s grin only widened.

Selene: "Perhaps I’ve simply grown greedy." She twirled a lock of her brown hair idly around one finger. "Or perhaps I wish for some fresh blood to liven up our lonely little household."

The candles shivered.

Lys: "Should we... should we prepare a recruitment notice, my Lady?"

Selene turned her full attention to Lys, her smile sharpening.

Selene: "Such a clever little bird you are, Lys. Yes. An announcement. Something... exotic. Something foreign."

Her fingers tapped thoughtfully along her jaw.

Selene: "The continent. Germany, perhaps. Their girls have such fascinating accents. And so deliciously soft skin..."

The girls nodded, hastening to write it down.

Selene: "And none of that sterile newspaper nonsense. No, something romantic. Nostalgic. Printed posters. Something to catch the eye of a desperate heart."

Margot: "What if no one answers, my Lady?"

Selene laughed, a low, rich, unsettling sound.

Selene: "My darling, someone always answers. There’s always a poor little creature dreaming of a new life. Dreaming of castles and fairy tales. Dreaming of a Lady to sweep them away."

She licked her lips, slowly, as if savoring the idea.

Selene: "And when they arrive... oh, what fun we'll have. Dressing her up. Teaching her our ways. Breaking her in..."

Another blush rippled across the four girls. Clara stared at the floor, pretending she hadn’t heard the thick suggestion layered under Selene's words.

Selene turned toward the grand window, staring into the thick night fog wrapping Whitcroft Manor like a lover’s embrace.

Selene: "Send it tonight. Have the posters placed where lost little lambs may wander, cafes, old university walls, crumbling corners where dreams still cling."

Selene: "And when she calls..." Her voice softened again, full of anticipatory glee, "Tell her she’s already been chosen."

The four girls bowed, skirts whispering like moth wings, and hurried away to complete their errand.

Left alone, Selene’s smile slipped into something sharper. Something hungrier.

She pressed a cool hand to her chest, feeling the slow, heavy beat of something ancient and aching. Five hundred years, and still, still, she had needs that clawed under her skin.

Selene: "Come find me, little lamb. Come, before I come looking for you."

Outside, the storm began to rise, whispering through the dead gardens, rattling the iron gates.

And somewhere far across the sea, a poster fluttered in the damp German wind, waiting to catch the eye of a girl desperate enough to dial the number written in bleeding black ink.

The rain came down in sheets across the crumbling streets of a forgotten part of Berlin.

Old neon signs buzzed weakly above shuttered cafés, the night air heavy with the scent of wet stone and cigarette smoke.

Mira hunched deeper into her jacket, her backpack thudding against her spine with every rushed step.

Another rejection email flashed fresh in her mind.

Another slammed door. Another tuition bill she couldn’t afford.

Mira: "One more semester... that's all I need... just enough to get through."

She ducked under a graffiti-scrawled awning, wiping rain from her face. As she shook out her soaked hair, her eyes caught something pinned crookedly to the bulletin board beside the door.

A poster.

Old. Worn at the corners. The ink bled slightly from the rain, but the words were still legible.

"Seeking: Apprentice Maid for Esteemed Noblewoman.

Opportunity for generous compensation, live-in position.

Must be willing to relocate.

No experience required.

Discretion and obedience mandatory.

Inquire at the number below."

Beneath the elegant script, an ornate crest was stamped in faded black, a blooming rose pierced by a crescent moon. Mira stared. Something about it made her stomach knot strangely.

Mira: "Probably a scam... or some creepy rich fetish thing."

Still... tuition money. A roof over her head. A chance.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone.

Before she could overthink it, she dialed the number written in dark, almost bleeding ink.

It rang once.

Twice.

And then, a voice answered. Silky. Feminine. Strange.

Voice: "You've found me."

Mira blinked, heart stuttering.

Mira: "Uh, h-hello? I’m calling about the, um... the apprentice maid posting?"

A soft laugh curled from the other end of the line.

It made Mira’s skin prickle.

Voice: "How delightful. I was hoping you'd call, little one."

Mira: "I-I’m Mira. Mira Vogel. I’m 17. I live in Berlin. I can work hard, I swear-"

Voice: "I know who you are."

Mira froze.

Mira: "What...?"

The voice purred.

Voice: "You’ve been chosen, Mira Vogel. Pack what you cannot bear to lose. Come to Whitcroft."

Mira: "Whitcroft? Where is that?"

The voice giggled, sweet, almost childlike.

Voice: "Across the sea. A land older than your little maps remember."

Mira’s chest tightened. This was insane. She should hang up. She should walk away.

But something deep inside her, some aching, desperate part, whispered: "This is it. Your chance."

Mira: "Will... will I be safe?"

The voice grew soft, almost tender.

Voice: "As safe as a lamb among wolves."

Click.

The line went dead.

Mira stared at her phone, heart hammering against her ribs.

Mira: "What the hell am I doing..."

The storm raged louder outside. The poster flapped violently in the wind, as if urging her. And Mira, against every sane instinct, made her decision.

...

Two days later, Mira stood at the edge of a lonely train platform, a single battered suitcase by her feet. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a text from her friend, Anika.

> "You're crazy. Call me the second you get there."

Mira smiled weakly, typing back.

> "Will do."

If she got there. If this wasn’t all some massive mistake.

The last train pulled in with a shriek of metal and a blast of cold air. Mira gathered her things and boarded, the world of Berlin slipping away behind her.

Hours passed in a blur of gray fields and black forests. She changed trains once, then twice, each one, smaller and older than the last. Finally, just as dusk fell again, Mira found herself stepping off into a different world.

Whitcroft. If it could even be called a town. A handful of crooked stone houses crouched around a single muddy street. An ancient church slumped on the hill. And looming above it all-

Whitcroft Manor.

A monstrous silhouette against the bleeding sunset, its towers clawing at the sky.

Mira shivered.

Mira: "Well... too late to back out now."

A black carriage, yes, an actual damn carriage, waited for her at the end of the platform.

The driver wore a stiff black uniform, his face hidden beneath a tall hat. Without a word, he took her suitcase and gestured for her to climb in.

Mira obeyed, heart hammering.

The ride up the twisting road was a blur of fog and rattling wheels. And then, the gates yawned open, iron fangs glinting in the mist.

Whitcroft Manor welcomed her home.

The doors swung open before she could even knock. A burst of warm, scented air, roses, wine, and something sharper, enveloped her.

And there, standing at the top of the grand staircase, waiting like a queen surveying her prize-

Lady Selene.

Her long brown hair shimmered like dark honey in the candlelight. Her gown, black with silver embroidery, clung to a body both impossibly delicate and terrifyingly strong. Sparkling gray eyes pinned Mira in place, sharp enough to strip her bare.

Selene smiled, slow and wicked.

Selene: "Welcome, little lamb."

Mira swallowed hard, every instinct screaming run, and yet her legs moved her forward.

Selene: "I do hope you’ll last longer than the last one."

The grand doors slammed shut behind Mira with a final, echoing boom. There was no going back.

The grand foyer swallowed Mira whole, marble floors that gleamed like still water, black chandeliers dripping crystal tears, endless staircases spiraling into the gloom above.

Lady Selene descended the staircase like she had all the time in the world. Her skirts whispered against the stone, her bare arms pale as moonlight under the flickering candles.

Selene: "My, my. Look at you."

Mira stood frozen, clutching her backpack like a lifeline.

Mira: "H-Hello... Lady Selene, right?"

Selene reached the bottom step, stopping just close enough for Mira to catch the intoxicating scent of her, roses, wine... and something metallic.

Selene: "So polite. I was expecting a little more whimpering."

Mira: "Uh... I can scream if you prefer?"

Selene laughed, a low, velvet sound that sent a chill down Mira’s spine.

Selene: "Adorable. Keep that spirit. I'll enjoy breaking it."

Mira’s throat tightened. Before she could stammer another word, four young women appeared from the side hall, all dressed in crisp black-and-white maid uniforms, faces curious and sharp.

It was Adeline, Clara, Lys, and Margot, the four apprentice maids she had spoken to earlier.

Selene: "Girls, meet your new little sister."

The maids exchanged glances.

Adeline, the tallest and most confident, stepped forward first, her raven-black hair tied in a sleek bun, lips curled into a sly smirk.

Adeline: "So this is the little stray you fished out."

Selene: "Be nice, Adeline. We don’t want her running before I even have the chance to... play."

Clara, the blonde girl with sleepy, sharp eyes, leaned lazily against the banister.

Clara: "She’s cute. I call first dibs."

Lys: "You’re not supposed to scare her right away, Clara..."

Margot: "We’ll get along great! If you survive the first week, that is."

Mira blinked rapidly, overwhelmed.

Mira: "What did I just sign up for...?"

Selene clapped her hands once, the sound sharp as a blade.

Selene: "Formalities first."

She gestured elegantly to a dark doorway off the foyer.

Selene: "Interview room. Come, little lamb."

Mira obeyed numbly, the maids giggling quietly as they drifted back to their duties. The "interview room" was just as dramatic, walls lined with red velvet, a single massive chair like a throne set behind an old carved desk.

Selene swept into the throne with a flourish, crossing one long leg over the other.

Selene: Rests her chin on her hand. "Strip."

Mira’s brain short-circuited.

Mira: "WHAT?!"

Selene burst into laughter, throwing her head back.

Selene: She winks. "Joking. Mostly."

Mira: "Th-that's not funny!"

Selene: "Oh, it's delicious."

She leaned forward, voice dipping into something darker.

Selene: "Trust me, little Mira. If I wanted you naked... you'd already be."

Mira swallowed hard, every instinct screaming danger. Selene reached into a drawer, producing a thin, silver contract.

Selene: "Let’s keep this simple. Serve me loyally. Obey without hesitation. Accept all... peculiarities of the household."

She slid the paper across the desk.

Selene: "In return, you will be housed, fed, and compensated more handsomely than you can imagine."

Mira stared down at the contract. No fine print. No hidden clauses. Just her name and a blank line waiting for her signature.

Mira: "What’s the catch?"

Selene stood slowly, circling the desk until she was right behind Mira. Her breath brushed Mira’s ear, cold as the grave.

Selene: "The catch, sweetling, is me."

Mira turned slightly, heart racing.

Mira: "Are you... dangerous?"

Selene’s fingers skimmed Mira’s shoulder, feather-light.

Selene: "Do you want me to be?"

Mira’s knees nearly buckled. This was madness. All of it. And yet... something inside her, some wild reckless part, whispered yes.

Mira: "I need the money."

Selene chuckled, the sound vibrating straight through Mira’s bones.

Selene: "You’ll get it. And so much more."

Mira picked up the pen with shaking fingers.

Mira: "If I sign this... there’s no backing out, is there?"

Selene: "Oh, you’re catching on fast."

Her sparkling gray eyes burned into Mira’s soul,

hungry. Possessive. And something else, something frighteningly tender.

Mira pressed the pen to the paper.

Signed.

The air shifted instantly, heavier. Almost electric. Selene purred with satisfaction.

Selene: "Welcome to Whitcroft Manor... pet."

Before Mira could react, Selene moved, too fast for human eyes. A cold hand gripped Mira’s chin, tilting her head up. Selene’s face was inches from hers, beautiful, inhuman, terrible.

Her lips brushed Mira’s forehead, a kiss that left Mira trembling.

Selene: "Mine."

The candles flickered violently. Outside, the wind howled like a dying thing. And Mira knew, deep in her gut, She had just sold her soul to a monster.