Lightning lit up the thin curtains covering the two small windows on either side of the carriage. Thunder rumbled like fallen trees. Clara Beaumont felt it deep within her chest. Tugging the silk cloak closer to her chin, she closed her eyes and prayed that the driver would get them through the storm without incident. There was no one there on teh bench next to her for comfort, to reassure her that a little rain and noisy sky wouldn’t delay their journey.

Clara's father had tried to insist she bring her sister or even a friend along, but the two day’s journey didn’t  seem consequential enough to need a companion. Besides, what would they have done once they'd arrived? Clara's elderly aunt had only asked for her. From what could be deciphered from her letter, she needed Clara to be a companion as she traveled to the southernmost coastal town. Apparently, it was now the ultimate fashion to travel there for the summer given its salty air and persistent sunshine. The mere idea of rolling waves made her stomach churn. But what was worse was who else would be there–

The carriage jolted to the right. Clara braced herself with her arms, only barely catching herself from falling to the floor. No sane person would have endured such dangerous weather. She certainly hadn't intended to. This storm had come from nowhere. Skies blue and cloudless she had ever seen bid her farewell in the late morning. Most of the day’s journey had been uneventful. Then the joyful light faded. Thunder shook the walls of the carriage. Rain pounded on the roof. When would they reach the inn? Bile rose up in , burning the sensitive tissue as the carriage continued to rock violently. The horses neighed over the sounds of the storm. 

The carriage shifted hard to the left. And kept falling. She slammed into the door, nearly opening it with the force. She didn’t know what was happening. The floor was now the wall and the wall the floor. A downward momentum made it impossible to stand. Screams ripped at .

Then it stopped. 

The rain continued to pour and the thunder roared on but the carriage was still. Her legs wobbled as she struggled to slowly stand. With her pulsing palms, she pushed open the door. The thin wooden panel clapped against the outside of the carriage. Immediately she was pounded by the storm. Large drops pelted her face, obscuring her already poor vision. It was dark. She could tell that much. And there were trees. In every direction. 

She climbed out of the carriage, calling for the driver. Her feet slipped in the mud, but she managed to keep her balance–for now. The mud was thick and sticky as she trudged to the front of the carriage.

 No.

No, no, no.

Both of the horses were gone. And so was the driver. Somehow, the carriage had fallen down a hill or ravine. With a storm this terrible, she desparately needed to get to higher ground or risk possibly being carried away–or, even worse, drowning. Clawing and digging her hands and feet into the soaked, soupy dirt, she climbed the hard incline back to the road. 

Once she could make out the road, she called for the driver again. No answer. He was nowhere to be found. She needed to find shelter. The storm gave no promise of letting up. She wouldn’t survive the night in this forest, even if she went back into the carriage. The only choice was to find sanctuary.

Clara stared in the direction she believed they came from. Nothing but trees and darkness. She turned to the other choice. All the same–wait. 

There was something… when lightning brightened up the sky. Her heart began banging in her ears. Spires, towers. Not trees. It was some distance away, but it was shelter nonetheless. 

With near tears in her eyes, she picked up her skirts–her fingers numb from the cold–and hurried towards the castle that could be her saving grace. 

*****

The manor was calm tonight. Odd, considering the amount of bodies roaming around these haunted halls. Only the beautiful storm outside and Chanyeol’s sorrowful melody from the piano broke the silence. Jongin had draped himself over one of the arm chairs as he inspected the wine mixture within his goblet. The taste was… adequate. The cellar would need replenishing soon.

In the corner, a rather lax game of cards covered the small, round table. Minseok smirked at his winning hand. The faded wooden chips with bits of white painted around the edges were piling up in front of Yixing, who leaned back carelessly, sure of his next win. Little did either of them know that the youngest among them had a little… trick his sleeve. As the quickest, Sehun had perfected sleight of hand long ago. None had caught him yet.

A fire roared, coaling the usually gray and brown room in flickering orange. With how close he stood near the fireplace, Kyungsoo’s silhouette was visible through his loose shirt. He leaned his palms on the mantel and let the warmth of the flames engulf him. Warmth was all they could feel after all these years. It could be an addiction so strong it was tempting to throw himself into the fire. 

Junmyeon joined him at the fireplace, leaning his shoulders against the brick. The bite of the edge hardly registered in his mind. Pain of that measure… it was only a ghost that had nearly crossed over. 

“Such strong thoughts for a night like this.”

Kyungsoo didn’t look from the fire, but raised a questioning eyebrow in response. 

Junmyeon shrugged a single shoulder. “I can’t read minds, but it’s obvious you’re turning something over more times than a praying rock.”

“It’s the same thoughts,” Kyungsoo murmured in his strange, monotone voice. “Always the same thoughts.”

“One day you will have to let it go,” Junmyeon sighed. “This is our existence now. And forever will be.”

“Acceptance of the present doesn’t erase the past.”

“But it does make the present more enjoyable.” The red liquid sloshed against the rim of the goblet as Jongin draped an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He wore a mischievous smile. A clear indicator of his true intention. 

Junmyeon shook his head. “We’re not going out tonight. There’s nothing out and about in this storm.” Hunting in these conditions would wield no trophies. Tomorrow would be a better night. 

“Jun’s no fun tonight,” Jongdae teased as he and Baekhyun emerged from the hallway. 

“If you want to go out in this mess,” Junmyeon waved towards the front door. “Be my guest. Just don’t you dare get mud on the rug–”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Help! Please! Help!”

Nine pairs of eyes snapped to the echoing sound. None moved. 

Bang! Bang! 

BANG!

One of the double doors burst open and a figure fell to the floor, landing on its knees and palms. It looked up. A flash of lightning illuminated the face.

The face of a beautiful young girl. 

*****

Clara's knees vibrated when they made contact with the wooden floor. Water fell from the fallen loose hair that clung to her cheeks. The chances of the door opening when she pushed on the handle had been low–yet the barrier that kept her victim to the storm fell open and she crashed downward with it. 

Greeting her in this strange hall were several men, their jaws hanging open in a mirror of her own surprise. More men appeared from a side parlor, curious as to who dared intrude on their evening. One, two, three–she counted nine total. Nine men. This was not ideal–a bit terrifying, really–but her didn’t have a choice. The storm raged outside. She didn't fully grasp what she had stumbled upon. 

“P-please,” Clara stammered past chattering teeth “The st-storm overturn-overturned the carriage.” 

The men stayed silent as they exchanged unreadable glances. One raised a questionable brow. 

"Jongdae, go run a bath,” ordered the man closest to her. One of the shorter residents nodded and disappeared into the darkness that led into the rest of the manor. 

That’s what this place was. A grand old manor, not a castle. Isolated. Hidden. When she’d first run through the rusted iron gate, she’d feared it abandoned. A long dormant instinct whispered that she might have been better off if it had been. 

The first man approached, each motion slow, deliberate, and hauntingly graceful. He crouched down iso he could level with her gaze. In an inescapable vice, he captured her frightened stare. The fear in her began to melt away. He was… beautiful. Obsidian fell over his forehead in gentle waves. His tunic was of a fashion her grandfather would have worn. There was something strange about this man–all of these men. Something… different. 

“Let’s get you warmed up.” He held his hand out and Clara was up on her feet before she even realized her fingers were resting on his. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “You’re safe here. My name is Junmyeon." She nodded, somehow believing him, but unsure if she really should. Through her violent chattering, she managed to stammer out her name in response. 

"C-clara-a B-b-beaum-mont."

Bang! 

She jumped at the sudden noise, a high pitched squeak echoing in the grand hall. One of the other men had somehow appeared behind her to shut the still wide open door. 

"Thank you, Yixing,” the man beside you said. The one named Yixing nodded and then shifted his eyes to Clara. “Come.” A hand pressed into the space between her shoulder blades and guided her down the hall, leaving a trail of mud in their wake.

The man led her down several halls until they reached an unoccupied bedroom. The door creeked open as it reveal a stunning sight. Red blankets draped the oversized bed. Matching curtains hung limply from the canopy. All of the wood was a dark sort, rich in color but not quite welcoming like other, brighter woods. 

Jongdae emerged from another door on the other side of the bedroom. Steam rolled out after him as if it were following him for its next set of orders. “Anything else?” he asked drily. 

“No, thank you," Junmyeon replied with an equal lack of intonation. 

Jongdae strolled the from the room without a glance either of them and closed the door behind him. Clara's breath hitched in . The two of them were… alone. It wasn’t appropriate. It was…

Clara looked to the man still standing in the bedroom with her, fear reigniting her heart to pound painful against her chest. She tugged her cloak closer around her, but it was soaked from the rain, rendering it useless. Shivers violently raced down her arms and spine. The man didn’t seem to notice as he walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a long white cloth. 

“These should suffice for tonight.” He held up the cloth for her to see. A nightgown. An old one by the cut of it, though thankfully it hadn’t been devoured by moths or mice. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Clara nodded. “Thank you.” 

He visibly suppressed a laugh at her small voice and waved her into the adjoining bathroom. Taking the nightgown, Clara tried her best to avoid his gaze. She scurried inside and shut the door. 

*****

Junmyeon smirked at this girl's mousy state. It was understandable why she was so frightened. The women of this period were warned of being alone with a man. And now this one was alone with nine. 

Nine very dangerous men. 

The proper action for him to take was to leave the room now that she was momentarily safe inside the bathroom, but his feet didn’t move. Somehow, the storm had stranded the poor thing in their forest. What had happened to the driver, he wondered. Surely a gentlewoman such as this Clara Beaumont was not controlling the carriage. And yet, she was all alone. Circumstances were… ideal.

A small hiss echoed in the bathroom. It stretched out, along with the sound of sloshing water. Junmyeon frowned. 

Hm.

He stood there for a few minutes more, listening to the satisfying sigh as her skin grew used to the scalding water. The sound of soap scraping against skin reached his ears, followed by more sloshing water. Soon, she would be getting out of the tub. Time to leave. 

He emerged from the bedroom, careful to close the door as quietly as possible. Everyone had gathered out in the hallway since they were too curious about their visitor to go about their night. Junmyeon found Jongdae blending in with the cluster. He glared at him as he hissed, “The water was too hot." 

Jongdae merely shrugged. Why would he care about water possibly being too hot? It would never hurt him. 

On the opposite end of the group, Yixing cleared his throat. "What are we going to do with her?”

Junmyeon glanced at the door behind him. There was only one best option, for all their sakes. “Tomorrow morning, we will send her on her way." 

The eruption was instant. 

“Enough!”

In an instant, the hissing ceased. 

Baekhyun huffed and folded his arms against his chest, collapsing against the wall. Jongin scoffed in agreement. "Such a waste." 

“A waste that will keep this household from tearing itself apart,” Junmyeoun countered. It was an outcome none of them wanted. No one wanted to cause a fight, but resisting was difficult. The temptation was great. The quicker this girl left, the better off they would all be. It was a delicate balance, this household. The slightest weight could tip it into chaos. 

"Do you really think it’ll end so well?” Minseok’s mocking comment hung in the air. Silent agreements rippled through the air. 

Junmyeon looked to Kyungsoo, whose answer was to look away. “No one touches her,” he ordered. They all would try, he knew. But their strength would only get them so far. He stared down a few of them especially, so they knew he meant it.

Sehun pushed off the wall with a roll of his eyes. “Just get her out of here so I can get some peace." 

Junmyeon started to call after him but was interrupted by a soft thud from the room behind him. Confused, he opened the door to find the girl lying on the floor.