Chapter 13
1843words
This uneasiness reached its peak when I opened the comment section of my novel.
The most recently updated chapter is precisely about the night when I signed the "blood pact" with Silas. I merely applied artistic processing to reality, concealing the most dangerous details while emphasizing "Mr. S's" struggle between weakness and instinct, as well as the female protagonist "Nono's" complex emotions as she voluntarily offered her blood out of fear and compassion. Even so, the authenticity of this scene still exploded the comments section. Readers went crazy for this bond filled with taboo and a sense of destiny, with discussions about "what the blood pact really means" building up hundreds of layers of comments.
However, among thousands of excited messages, that ID named "Visage" once again, like a cold needle, precisely pierced my most vulnerable nerve.
"[Visage]: How was the taste of blood? Was it sweeter than I imagined? Your fear, your devotion, your every heartbeat... I can feel them all. It's an incomparable flavor."
My fingers instantly turned cold, as if my blood had frozen. This comment was no longer the kind of philosophical pretentiousness from before, but rather... like a viewer who had watched a live broadcast, savoring the most exciting moment. A feeling of being watched suddenly arose, making me extremely uncomfortable.
Before I could recover from the shock, his second comment followed immediately.
"[Visage]: Are you beginning to understand what true belonging means? What the sleeper gave you was merely a mark, a brand of ownership. But what I can give you is to become 'home' itself. Each breath you take will be its breath; each heartbeat of yours will be its heartbeat. There's nowhere to escape, nor any need to escape anymore."
"Home." He used that word. Not manor, not building, but "home." This coincided perfectly with everything Julian had revealed in the dream. I abruptly stood up from my chair, looking around this familiar study. The reliefs on the walls, the domed ceiling, the swaying tree shadows outside the window—they were no longer cold scenery, but like countless eyes of an enormous creature, quietly and greedily watching me.
What truly plunged me into panic was what happened next.
From that day on, some... more bizarre discussions began appearing in the comment section. At first, I thought they were just readers' fantasies, but the precision of those details made me shudder.
"[Reader A]: What the master called Visage said above is so right! When I saw the author's update yesterday, I felt that the dynamic between Nono and Mr. S had completely changed! The author wrote with such detail that I could even imagine Nono wearing that light purple silk pajamas, looking both scared and worried in front of Mr. S! That imagery was amazing!"
Light purple silk pajamas. That's what I had just dug out of my suitcase and changed into last night. I had never described any clothing details of the female protagonist in my novel.
My heart started racing as I continued scrolling down.
"[Reader B]: Yes, yes, yes! And this morning, the author must have arranged fried eggs and bacon for Nono's breakfast, accompanied by a steaming cup of tea! Only such a hearty breakfast could soothe her fragile heart after being tormented by the vampire all night long! Mr. S is really something, always bullying our Nono!"
I stiffly turned my head, looking at the plate on the dining table that I had just finished eating from but hadn't had time to clear away. An empty red teacup, next to eggs fried golden brown in butter and two slices of bacon. Exactly the same.
Fear tightened around me like an invisible net. I frantically refreshed the comments section, trying to find more clues, also hoping this was all just a coincidence. But my next discovery completely shattered any wishful thinking.
"[Reader C]: I bet Nono will definitely go to the garden to trim those black velvet roses this afternoon! I saw the weather forecast yesterday saying the sunlight will be best from 3 to 5 PM today, perfect for tending to those delicate flowers! I hope Mr. F (Finn) doesn't come out to frighten her again!"
This comment was posted at nine o'clock this morning. And I had indeed planned to go trim those black velvet roses at three in the afternoon, which had become somewhat disheveled after the heavy rain.
I slammed my laptop shut with a "bang," as if there were some monster inside that devours people selectively. I could no longer deceive myself. This was no coincidence, nor a reader's imagination. Someone was watching me, tracking my every move in meticulous detail. My life was being broadcast in real-time to a public platform, disguised as "reasonable speculation" about a novel.
Who? Who on earth could it be?! Finn? Impossible, he never enters the estate. Julian? Why would he do something like this? Or... that "Visage"?
I rushed out of the study, checking every corner of the estate like a madman. All windows were securely locked from the inside, with no signs of tampering. The main door remained as solid as ever, the ancient lock on it without even a scratch. I even climbed up to the attic, inspecting every corner where a pinhole camera might be hidden, but found nothing. The estate was like an airtight fortress; from a physical perspective, no one could have broken in.
But that feeling of being watched grew increasingly intense, like countless invisible threads wrapping around me from all directions, constricting until I could barely breathe.
"What's wrong with you?"
Silas's voice suddenly sounded behind me, startling me into a scream as I jumped up. I whirled around to see him standing in the shadows of the hallway, his face bearing a trace of curious confusion. After sunset, he was the other master of this mansion.
"Someone is monitoring me!" My voice trembled with fear, "My life, what I wear, what I eat, what I do... someone is watching it all clearly! They even know what I'm going to do next!"
Silas's brows furrowed, a hint of gravity flashing through his crimson eyes. He didn't doubt my words; as a being who had lived countless ages, he clearly understood better than I did how many bizarre forces lurked in this world.
"Stay by my side." He only said these four words, then began to inspect the entire manor in a systematic and professional way that I had never seen before. His speed was incredibly fast, almost turning into a black afterimage, from the basement to the attic, from every window to every ventilation duct. He used his senses, far superior to any human's, to search for any trace of a presence that didn't belong to us.
After about ten minutes, he reappeared before me, his expression even more somber than before.
"Nothing. No signs of intrusion," he said slowly, his crimson eyes scanning the surrounding air. "No unfamiliar scents, neither human nor... from our world."
This conclusion terrified me more than finding an intruder would have. It meant that whatever was watching me didn't even need to "come in."
Silas also realized this. He stood quietly in the center of the hall, closing his eyes, as if sensing in a deeper way. A few seconds later, his eyes snapped open, his red pupils slightly contracted, showing for the first time clear emotions mixed with disgust and apprehension.
"Something has been here all along." He said to me, keeping his voice extremely low, as if afraid of alarming that "thing", "Right in these walls, under the floor, in the air... it's everywhere. A... being that is older than me, and more... hungry than me."
In those eyes that had weathered countless storms, wariness appeared for the first time. His pride as a top predator was replaced by a more primitive vigilance when facing this unknown force.
"It's watching us." Silas added, then unconsciously took a step closer to me, sheltering me under his tall figure.
At that moment, all my defenses and pretenses collapsed. I could no longer analyze with science or document with notes. I was just prey trapped in an enormous cage, at risk of being devoured at any moment. In my desperation, only one name remained in my mind.
"Julian..." I called out desperately in a whisper.
As if in response to my call, from the direction of the second-floor study came the extremely faint sound of a book falling to the floor.
I grabbed onto this last lifeline, rushing upstairs like a madman, with Silas following closely behind. In the study, a heavy leather journal, similar in style to the "Chronicles" from before, lay quietly on the carpet, open, as if it had been waiting for my arrival all along.
I knelt on the ground, trembling as I picked up that diary. The handwriting was older and more vigorous than Julian's, written with some kind of iron gall ink that nearly penetrated through to the back of the paper. On the title page was a name—Silas Vince, the first master of Thornhill Manor.
My gaze was immediately drawn to a passage that was repeatedly mentioned in the diary.
"...The seventh year. The 'Gaze' is growing stronger. I can feel it, that 'Eternal Gazer,' its will has completely merged with this manor. It is not a ghost trapped here, it IS this place. Every stone, every thorn, is an extension of its senses."
"...It requires a 'key.' A woman with the Vince family bloodline to serve as its anchor connecting to this physical world. Through the 'key's' eyes, it observes the world; through the 'key's' emotions, it draws nourishment. My wife, my poor Lenore, she was the first 'key.' From her diary, I could see her gradually being assimilated by that will, her joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness becoming its sustenance."
"...I tried to seal it away, exhausting all my knowledge and wealth to build this basement, to craft that stone coffin. I locked away the darkest secret of our family within it, hoping to balance its power and secure a chance of survival for my descendants. But now I understand that I was merely buying time. As long as the manor stands, as long as the Vince bloodline exists, the 'Eternal Gazer' will never be satisfied. It will wait patiently until the next 'key' walks into its trap."
The last page of the diary contained only one sentence, the ink so heavy it seemed as if written in blood.
"It watches you, through your eyes; it feels you, through your skin; it writes you, through your destiny. Until you, too, become part of it."
