Chapter 2 - The Poster

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.

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