The fever took over almost as soon as Clara left the bathroom. Her feet grew heavier, like lead refusing to be moved. Her vision went black before she made it to the comfort and safety of the bed.

Consciousness came and went, images she wasn’t sure were real or not blurred within her narrowed vision. A man wiped her feverish forehead with a cloth. Another fed her salty broth. Two more held her upright as someone changed the sweat-soaked pillowcase. The last image she remember was the lingering presence of someone near the doorway. All she could register was his short black hair and white tunic. He turned from the bed and walked out of the room as she fell back back under.

A long groan rumbled in as her eyes blinked open. The fever that had consumed her body was gone. Her rough tongue scraped the roof of a mouth desperate for moisture. Every limb was sore from not being used. A small pain still pushed at her skull behind her forehead but it was bearable.  Only a small measure of light broke the edges of the curtain. It was either barely dawn or the very end of twilight. 

“It would seem you’re past the worst of it." 

Clara gasped at the unexpected voice. Junmyeon emerged from the shadows and stood at the edge of the bed. He tilted his head, the upper half of his face still cloaked in the darkness. 

"I was sick,” Clara stated to no one in particular. Perhaps in mere confirmation for herself. "I tend to be worse the first few hours, but I get through it rather quickly."

Junmyeon's gaze narrowed at her. “You had a fever for two days”. 

“Two days!” she gasped. No, no, she was supposed to arrive to her aunt today. If she didn’t show– 

An echoing thud interrupted her frantic thoughts. She sat up slowly, groaning at the protest of her still exhausted arms and torso. Junmyeon kicked the familiar looking chest on the floor again. Excitement pushed away all remaining consequences of the fever. It was her trunk with all of her things. Soon, she could be on her way again, with a harrowing tale for her worried relative. 

“We found it this morning,” he explained. “Along with the driver." 

Clara's heart leapt. "He's–”

“Dead. Probably broke his neck from the fall.” His voice was void of empathy. Death–at least the kind not directly in contact with himself–did not affect him. “The carriage isn’t salvageable. and the roads are still practically swamps.” 

Each breath Clara took in came faster and faster, more shallow than the last. How could the roads still be unfit for travel? Surely, two days would be sufficient in drying the dirt roads. Realization slowly crept towards her. The room began to tilt as if the fever were threatening to return. "So, what does that mean for me?” Perhaps it be would simply and she'd merely have to wait for a replacement carriage or for her aunt to come get Clara herself. 

He looked to the door with a resigned expression. “You will stay here until we deem fit." 

"What!” Clara scrambled out of the bed. Her knees buckled as soon her feet touched the rug. Going so long without proper nutrition and being sick with fever left her too weak to fet so far. Junmyan caught her before she could be injured, sweeping her up into his arms. A mild shiver chattered your teeth. Through her thin nightgown she could feel the icy chill of his fingers. How one’s skin could be the temperature of snow, she didn’t know. 

He laid her back down on the bed with a rather smug expression. “Traveling isn’t in your best interest. You need to regain your strength." 

You swallowed thickly. "And after that?" 

The only answer she received was a smile.

"You can’t keep me here!" 

"Eat,” he ordered, gesturing to the small table in the corner. A silver tray with fresh morsels sat and waited to be consumed. “You’re free to roam the manor as you choose, but remember: there is nothing for miles, not even an inn. You’ll meet a hungry wolf before coming across another human.” He bowed as if he were a gentleman and left her alone to accept the unforseen circumstances.

*****

A small amount of strength returned to Clara after reluctantly eating the provided meal. Although fasting in protest could have been effective, she pathetically couldn’t resist. Food had always been a favorite weakness of hers. 

The next form of protest she tried was keeping to her room. But after a few hours of not a footstep outside, she concluded self-confinement was only useful if someone noticed. 

From her trunk she pulled one of the more plain dresses that had been packed for her journey. It wasn’t too difficult to dress herself in the many required layers. She had plenty of practice and there was no need to be perfect here. The true trouble came for her hair. Despite being in bed for several days, no knots caused her pain while brushing out the dark brown curls. That, however, was the extent of her finger's talent. Charlotte, her maid back at her father's house, had been the one to curl and pin her hair in the latest fashions. The best Clara could do on her own was tie the strands back with a plain blue ribbon. At least that kept it out of her face. Squaring your shoulders, she yanked the door open with force and stepped out of the room. 

Up and down the different halls, she tried to make sense of the layout. This manor expanded in nearly every direction with countless floors. She went upstairs and down again, unsure of where she was. The bit of light that managed to fight past the thick curtains that hung in front of every window grew in strength. But though the day grew older, she saw none of the residents. No sound alerted her to any being hiding in the shadows. It gave her an eerie feeling. It was as if she were alone but an ever lingering presence haunted every corner.

She took another random left turn. And stopped. 

The front door was just on the other side of this hall. She searched the large hallway she'd entered. Her ears strained to hear anyone that could possibly be near. Not even a bird sang outside. She took a step. Then another. And another. One at a time, she paused between each of them, waiting for one of the lords to suddenly appear and drag her back to her room. 

Huh. Her room. As if her stay here would be forever permanent. Clara prayed that they would soon grow bored of her and send her on her way. All of this could be  a terrible joke because they had no other way to occupy their time. 

She’d reached the door. Possible freedom lied on the other side. Yet, her fingers hovered above the handle. Junmyeon’s warning waded through her mind like a morning fog. Nothing for miles. Surely if that was true, the driver would have stopped rather than continue on in the storm. 

And then there were the wolves. She knew of their existence. And how a human could be just as satisfactory as elk if they thought they could overpower whoever they came across. To them, she would certainly make easy prey. 

“Doors only move when one opens them.”

With a shrill gasp, she whirled around and pressed against the door, her shoulderblades digging into the harsh wood. The one who drew her bath that first night–Jongdae–was leaning against the entrance to the side parlor. He stared at her with a bored expression, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Where did you come from?” Clara demanded. She had looked in the parlor as she passed. No one was in there. 

He waved an uncaring hand in the air. “Around. I heard you walking and when it stopped, I came to see why.” 

"You heard me walking?” Clara looked down at the slippers on before leaving the room since her boots were still caked with mud. She could hardly hear her own steps against the wood boards. 

Jongdae merely raised an eyebrow, refusing to explain. Clara huffed. The previous fright in her disappeared. Pushing off of the door, she shuffle past him and into the parlor. The front door was no longer even an imagined option. Besides, her feet were beginning to pulse after walking around for hours. They needed rest. She sat in one of the cushioned chairs to give them some relief. 

Before she could blink, Jongdae was seated in the chair directly across from her. 

“How did you do that?” 

Smug, he leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Would you like a tour?" 

"Not if you refuse to answer my questions,” Clara scoffed. 

The corners of his lips curled upward. “I think it might be better if you figure it out for yourself. Over time." 

That earned another huff. She especially disliked the insinuation that she would be here for a long while. Hope still flickered in her like a warm ember, desperate for fuel. 

Jongdae stared quizzically. "Why didn’t you run?” 

"Because, there isn’t anywhere to run to,” Clara answered quietly. Despite her current status as a prisoner, she was lucky to have made it here in the first place. Regardless if she was imprisoned or not, she was thankful to be alive. 

Still eyeing her with that studious share, Jongdae leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Is there another reason you don’t want to leave?" 

Clara swallowed thickly. It was impossible for him to read her thoughts. He couldn’t possibly know that something else held her back. "It’s safe here–”

 "We both know this place isn’t safe for you,” he snapped. “Your instinct should be to run as far as you can.” 

"B-but the wolves…” her voice trailed off, overshadowed by the thumping of your heart. Yes, the wolves were a barrier, but a convenient. 

“The wolves are nothing compared to here.” He stood and all seriousness melted away as he stretched his limbs. “Or maybe they aren’t. Perhaps that simply depends on you.” She flinched as he reached for her. He didn’t pause and his fingers passed her heating cheek, instead pulling at the ribbon in her hair until it came loose. He dropped the thin fabric in your lap. “I wouldn’t wear your hair like that." 

Clara frowned at him. The men here weren’t exactly the epitome of current style. "Why?”

“Keep pulling it back like that and you’ll have your answer.“ He dared to wink at her before strolling from the parlor. 

It took a little while to find her room again. Part of her wondered if she should have accepted Jongdae’s offer of a tour. Another part stubbornly insisted she would find her own way eventually. 

Sitting down at the small table, she pulled the curtain back. Her room was on the second floor, which gave her a decent view of the grounds. 

Unlike most of the forest she remembered seeing, this area was void of life. The trees were bare, their branches rigid and spindly. No birds or other woodland creatures scurried about. There was plenty of grass and garden hedges, but somehow all of the beauty was sapped from their blades and leaves. A few stone benches and structures were scattered about the estate, but whatever stunning carvings they used to present had been worn away. A sadness had overtaken this land, infected its very core. Not even the sunlight–now making its way to the other horizon–felt warm. How could anyone live amongst this?

All the strength gained through breakfast waned. She didn’t need sleep, per se, but rest wasn’t a terrible idea. Leaning back, she tucked her feet underneath her tired legs and shuffled into the corner of the chair. Her eyes slowly closed–

And snapped open at the soft knock from the door. She scowled at the door. It replied with another knock. With a huff, she stood and crossed the room, pulling the door open with force. "Yes?" 

Junmyeon smirked at the cold hostility. "It’s time for dinner.”

Clara looked down, but his hands were empty. No new silver tray in sight. 

“Dinner is with us." 

The muscles in tightened as his words sunk in. With them. 

He motioned with his head. "Come." 

"I have to change." 

His eyes raked her up and down, then he raised an eyebrow. "Why?" 

Why? Because she always charged for dinner when she wasn’t dining with only her family. It simply wasn’t proper to wear what you were tramping around in all day. 

When she neither spoke nor moved, he reached behind her and pulled the door closed, pushing her out of the room and into his chest. He chuckled at the contact. Clara shoved him away. His amusement didn’t waver. "The dining hall is this way." 

Understanding that the only way she would be eating was by following him, she complied. He led the way to one of the familiar staircases, but passed the steps to go down a hallway she didn’t recognize. Not that she really recognized much of this place. The dining hall sat on the other end. Past the grand entrance was a long, dark red table that ran the length of the room with the ability to seat at least twenty. An old chandelier hung from the ceiling, a few of the precious crystals missing. A roaring fire clicked and cracked on the opposite wall. 

"You'll sit here.” Junmyeon startled her as he pulled a chair just to the left of the head of the table. All the other available seats were occupied. With her chin held high, Clara accepted, letting him push the chair in. Then he sat at the head. 

There were four chairs on each side of the banquet table, haphazardly spaced, and a lone chair at the other end. To Clara's immediate right was the one named Yixing. He stared at her with narrowed, interested eyes that somehow made his already sharp features lethal. She dropped her gaze instantly, finally noticing the food in front of her. Her eyes lifted… no one else had a meal, only a goblet full of wine. “Has everyone else eaten?”

“Mm,” Junmyeon hummed over the rim of his glass. When the goblet left his mouth, a faint red smear remained behind. He his lips slowly to wipe it away. “We don’t typically… eat dinner, but thought of it as an opportunity to introduce you.” 

A few chuckles echoed around the room, but the joke was lost on her. 

"Eat,” Junmyeon motioned to the singular plate. All eyes were trained on her every move. The silverware clinked and clattered as she picked up the fork and knife. Would the food be poisoned? Did they get some sick enjoyment from this? She cut off a small bite of chicken. Each bite was slow, testing the flavor. It wasn’t beautifully seasoned, but she couldn’t taste any bitter poison underneath. She swallowed cautiously and cut another bite. 

Satisfied, Junmyeon motioned to the man on his right. “This is Jongin.” 

"You have a pretty name,” the man purred. Clara merely stared at him and continued to eat. He laughed from his chest. “Then Chanyeol.” This one bowed in his chair with a flourish of his arm. “Jongdae.” He winked. She scowled at him. “Sehun.” This one didn’t make eye contact like the others, looking bored as he leaned back lazily in his chair, sipping from his glass. “Kyungsoo at the end.”

Kyungsoo, who had been staring at the table, his chin resting on folded fingers. He glanced up briefly but immediately looked away when he met her curious gaze. 

“That one is Minseok,” Junmyen went on. The one named Minseok smiled with an eerily feline grin. “Baekhyun.” He, too, grinned in a way that sent a chill down Clara's spine. “And next to you, I’m sure you remember, is Yixing." 

She didn’t look at him again. Putting down the silverware, she gave her attention back to Junmyeon. "When can I leave?" 

He scoffed before he could take another sip of wine. "I already told you. When we deem fit.”

“You can’t keep me here!" 

"Maybe you should have considered that before you came here.”

"You might enjoy it here,” Baekhyun hummed. 

“I doubt it,” Clara snapped back. 

Chanyeol leaned forward onto the table. “Do you have family?“ 

She swallowed nervously. How much information should she risk divulging? "Yes." 

"You should ask her if she has a lover,” Jongdae crooned. When all eyes jerked to him, Clara took advantage of the distraction and carefully slid the knife over to her right hand under the rim of the plate. By luck, she had decided to wear a dress with sleeves. She only needed to conceal the knife until she was back in the confinements of her room. 

“Do you?” Jongin asked of her, a little too interested for her comfort. 

Clara glared daggers at Jongdae. “No, I don’t." 

His lips curled gleefully. "I don’t believe you.” He shrugged. “Then again, maybe it’s not a lover that you’re trying to avoid." 

"My aunt is expecting me." 

"And she’ll keep expecting you,” Junmyeon growled. 

A hand flashed out of nowhere, snatching up Clara's wrist and catching the knife before it fell to the floor. “I wouldn’t do that,” Yixing warned. She tried to yank her wrist back, but he took the opportunity to bring her closer to him. 

Junmyeon sighed. “Yixing.” 

Revealing who was in charge Yixing released her wrist, but he put the knife in front of him. Small indentations appeared along the blade that weren’t there before. A perfect fit for a hand. 

Clara stood with such force that the chair overturned, landing with an echoing clatter behind her. 

"Finished already?” Jongin teased. 

Clara gave a single hard nod and stormed out of the dining hall. None of them bothered to stop her. 

“This is going to be fun,” one of them chuckled. A chair scraped hastily against the floor and she hurried faster to her room.