The wind whistled against the windows like a hallowing scream. Clara tossed and turned, desperate to fall asleep. The first few nights had been somewhat peaceful, due to the fever having a complete hold over her. To fight it off, her body had kept her in a deep sleep, only broken by bouts of blurry consciousness. 

But now… every noise made her eyelids snap open and her heart jump in pace. This unfamiliar place was full of shadows and secrets. Secrets that revolved around the men keeping her prisoner here. 

Releasing a long sigh, she stared up at the canopy, the newly formed indentions in the knife floating in her mind. They weren’t there before, she was sure of that. She had used that knife to cut the chicken and it was in perfect condition. No human could bend the metal like that. 

And then there was the speed at which Yixing caught her wrist. 

Cara sat up with haste. Sleep was not going to come tonight. With a whiney groan, she rubbed her face with her fingers. The room slowly came into view as her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight. She had opened the curtain before slipping into bed so she could watch the moon rise into the sky. Looking around the room, she searched for an answer on how to get herself to sleep. There wasn’t much in this grand room. Simply a bed, a wardrobe, a dresser, the chair–

Wait. 

Pushing the blanket off of herself, Clara crawled across the mattress towards the chair. The shape didn’t seem right. Six legs instead of four. An extra shape in the outline. 

“You should go to sleep.”

A high pitched scream ripped at until a cold hand covered , cutting off the sound. Now fully bathed in the blue moonlight, she could make out the sharp features of Yixing’s face. 

Clara shoved his arm away to free her lips. “What do you think you are doing in my room?” No gentleman would dare enter a lady’s room like this. Unless– gumption gone, she swallowed thickly. Was the reason she was trapped here finally coming to fruition?

The corner of Yixing’s mouth twitched upwards. He slinked forward like a cat cornering a mouse until his arms trapped her against the mattress, a hand on either side of her hip. Only her elbows kept her from being flat on her back, even more vulnerable. 

“You’re a noisy sleeper,” he purred, his eyes flashing. “It's… distracting.”

Clara scoffed. None of their rooms were near here. She was sure that all the ones around this one were empty. He shouldn’t have been able to hear her tossing and turning. “Distracting?”

He hummed. His right hand lifted from the bed and reached out towards Clara's face. She flinched at the motion, making him freeze. 

But only for a moment. 

The hovering fingers soon resumed their path. He didn’t make contact with her cheek, however. Instead, his fingers traced the outline of her collarbone. Down one slope and up the other. She trembled at the contact. His smirked only deepend. His fingers moved on to her shoulder, the too loose neckline of the nightgown nearly falling off. 

She should slap him away, scream at him to leave, but she was too petrified to do so. 

At least, she thought that was what stopped her. The coldness of his fingers moved up the curve of her neck, the tips pausing on the pulsing vein. His thumb caressed the edge of her jaw. 

“Go to sleep.”

And like that, he disappeared into the night like smoke from a dying ember. 

Clara didn’t hear or see the door open or close, but she knew she was alone now. 

And she were furious. 

How dare he come here! How dare he–

Her feet hit the floor, heavy and without a care of being heard. Sleep, in protest of that madman’s orders, would now be impossible. Anger and frustration at her situation fueled something new within her.

Clara wasn’t sure what it was or what it would lead to, but she followed it without question. Donning soft slippers and a thicker slip dress, she found a candle in the top drawer, along with a few matches and a holder. She lit the candle and left her room. 

Out. She needed to find a way out. Perhaps if she could get ahold of a piece of paper and a pen then she could write–

But how would she get it to someone who could take it to her family?

This place–somewhere in its halls or dusty room–had to hold the key. Something here had to be a savior, something to make this hope not without merit. 

She pinched the candleholder tightly in her hand. The tiny flame danced before her eyes, occasionally catching her attention away from where she was going. All of her senses were heightened, on the lookout for the next corner’s surprise. If one of them was awake at this hour, then more could be as well. Running into one of them could be detrimental–or a possibility for answers. Perhaps if she could get one of the others, one of the less… frightful ones, she might be able to plead for help. One surely would take pity on her. 

Or they would simply take advantage of the isolation.

Though that fear lingered in the back of her mind, she kept on her quiet steps. 

There wasn’t much she could see with the light of the candle. The floors, like your room, were of wood boards somewhat taken care of. Portraits and landscapes hung on the walls, but their colors had faded, no longer holding the joy of life they once had captured. 

Taking a left at a fork in the hall, she came to a large door that didn’t open like the others. It slid sideways on wheels like a ladder against tall bookshelves. As carefully as she could, she pushed the door open and glanced inside. 

The room was merely a simple parlor, with an unlit fireplace and several stuffed chairs accompanied by small side tables. Most likely an unused smoke room for the gentlemen to disappear to after dinner. 

Across the room was another door, though this one seemed to be the normal kind that swung on hinges. On the other side was probably another hallway. A connecting room like this could be useful as a quick getaway, should the need arise. She mentally noted its existence and stepped inside, slowly sliding the door closed behind her. With a deep breath, she started for the other door.

“I don’t recall you being given free reign of the manor.”

She nearly dropped the candle from the unexpected voice. Careless! She should have inspected the room closer, then she would have seen Sehun clearly leaning back in one of the chairs, fully facing her as if this were a planned meeting. His expression wasn't a friendly one, but rather one of deep irritation. It would seem she had interrupted… something. Or maybe her mere existence was enough to annoy him. 

“I wasn’t explicitly told to stay in my room,” she argued, though not in a particularly strong voice. “Is there something wrong with me walking about?”

Sehun stood from the chair with inhuman grace. Clara had never seen someone move so smoothly, without fault or twitch. He had complete control of his lithe limbs and tall stature. Gangly would never apply to him. His steps were noiseless as he sauntered closer, stopping a foot or two away. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he snarled. “It’s stupid to roam where you shouldn’t be.”

“Stupid?” It was one thing for her to scold herself in her private thoughts, but she would not be insulted this way. “If I am so unwelcomed in this room then you can simply ask for me to leave.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge, hoping that would cover the pounding of her fearful heart. 

He didn’t appear to notice. His jaw shifted left to right, but no words left his lips. 

“Well, then.” Clara shifted her gaze away from him and started for the other door, holding on to that tiny bit of triumph.

An arm as strong as an iron bar flashed before her, blocking her way and refusing to move. Sehun’s palm was spread along the faded green pain of the wall. She shoved and pushed at the barrier, but nothing even made him flinch. He encroached, leaving behind any sense of personal space, much like Yixing just an hour before. He loomed over her, his upper lip curling into a mixture of a snarl and smirk. 

“That bravery is a mistake,” he hissed. Clara pressed her back against the wall and brought the candle closer to her as if that tiny flame was enough to keep him at bay. 

Which was exactly the reaction he wanted. A sly, wicked smirk fully took over. 

Pursing his lips, he blew once, snuffing out the flame. For a few seconds, she became absolutely blind in the sudden darkness. Sehun was invisible to her, despite his closeness. However, she could feel his breath against her chin. It was cold, like a winter’s breeze. It should have been warm. Human breathes were warm. 

That chilling breath grew closer. It traveled from her nose to her cheek and then to her hair, ruffling the strands against her ear. Something nudged against her temple. He took a long, deep breath. His nose. Was he… smelling her?

Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, absorbing any bits of moonlight that broke through the heavy curtains hanging from the short windows above her head. All she could see of Sehun was the slope of his shoulder and the outline of his hair. 

His head snapped up, making her squeak. But he didn’t acknowledge the jump, his eyes turned towards the hallway she had entered from. A low hiss vibrated in his chest. She could nearly feel it in her own. He glanced at her once, his eyes shining unnaturally in the dark. Then, he ran from the room at a speed no man should possess. 

She ran back to the room, the candle still gripped tightly by her side. Panic gripped her so completely that she passed the door to her sanctuary the first time. Once inside, she desperately searched for a way to lock the door. There was none. Alright. Fine. She would barricade the door then. 

Huffing shallow breaths, she pulled and pushed the armchair so it acted like a weight against the door. It might not be heavy enough to keep it shut forever, but at least entering would be a struggle. She had tried the more fortifying dresser first, but it had refused to shift even a centimeter. The chair was the best she could do. 

Ripping the blanket off of the bed, she draped the heavy fabric over her shoulders and sat down on the floor under the window. Her gaze stayed trained on the door, ears straining for the slightest sound to alert her for whoever came for her next. Sehun's cold breath still lingered against her skin. She rubbed at her cheek to try and make it go away. So close. He'd been so close. 

And Yixing. That was why she couldn't be on the bed. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. Or even the night after that. It was tainted. She shivered at the memory of his closeness and pulled the blanket in closer. That one long cloth was now her shield, her protection. The object that kept her safe. In her mind, at least. In truth, it would be ripped away from her as easily as water slipping through her fingers. But the thought was enough. 

She tucked her chin in between the folds and kept watching the door. Soon, the night would get lighter. Already, the darkness didn't seem as strong. 

How long until one of them came? Until someone tried to push their way inside? Clara hoped it would be a long time. Even hoped that they would forget about her and she could find a way to make it out, survive the forest, and see her family again. The odds weren't in her favor, but that hope was a life line. 

As the moonlight shifted, her eyes grew heavy. It was a battle to keep them open. Each time they fluttered closed, she lost ground. Sleep that had eluded her so easily before now came back to reclaim its time. The door blurred before her and then sleep claimed its victory.

****

Tap, tap, tap.

Clara's eyes blinked open. It was still night. Or, perhaps, it was night again. This darkness felt new. The beginning of a fresh night. 

Tap, tap. 

She looked up at the window above her head. 

Tap, tap, tap. 

Little black dots hit the window before disappearing out of view. She frowned and pushed up off the floor, the protective blanket falling to the floor. Still emerging from sleep, her eyes took a moment to bring the scene into focus. At first, she merely saw a blur amongst the grass. 

Then, it took shape. 

Clara groaned. Jongdae was waving at her to come down.

She shook her head furiously. Safety was in here. And... though he didn’t feel quite as dangerous as the others, he still made her weary. The memories of Sehun and Yixing were still burnt freshly into her mind.

At her refusal, he visibly sighed. In his other hand hung a small cloth bag. He pulled a small bun from the bag and held it up like a prize. Clara's stomach grumbled and gurgled  in response. It looked… nice. She could almost smell the bread's delectable scent. Was she really going to give in to food? 

I need an ally, she told herself. He was different from the others. How much she wasn't sure, but perhaps she could use that. If she could make him sympathetic to her– 

Mind made up, Clara turned from the wind and changed into more appropriate clothing. This time, she heeded Jongdae's advice and kept her hair down to cover her neck. It felt highly improper, like a hundred governesses would appear from nowhere to scold her for being so scandalous. But she shoved the invisible tsking women away and moved the chair just enough to exit into the hallway. 

It took some time to find her way outside. Jongdae now waited for her with his back against a lone tree that looked to be one more winter away from death.

"I'll note that food is a way to entice you out." 

Clara glared at him. "Did you have a reason for standing under my window instead of knocking on the door like a normal person?" 

"Junmyeon had tried to bring you breakfast around sunrise," he said as he inspected the perfectly browned bun still in his hand. "He couldn't get in, though." 

"I blocked the door," Clara explained casually. 

Jongdae raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by some measure. “Quick learner." 

"After some… events last night, precaution was necessary." 

"Yixing has restraint." He pushed off the tree and held the bun out to her. "You were lucky that Sehun was called off of you, though. His self-control is... lacking." 

She gaped at him, heat rising fiercely in her cheeks. "How did you–” 

“Know?" he smirked. "Secrets don't exist here. Best you learn that quickly." 

She narrowed her gaze at him. "No secrets?" 

Seeing right through her, he laughed, leaning forward and close to her face. "From us. Not for you." 

The pure arrogance in that reply. "That hardly seems fair."

"That's life,” He shrugged. Looking around for nothing in particular, he said, “Let's take a walk." 

The roll broke easily against her teeth. She chewed on the bite, resisting the urge to moan at its delicious flavor. The inside was still soft and fresh. Finally swallowing, she refused him a single step. "Why?"

"You've been sleeping on a hard floor all day,” he said pointedly. Clara didn’t want to think about how he possibly knew that. "You need to move." For an extra enticement, he held up the linen bag. More where that came from, he said without speaking. 

The bun in her hand, though all of its warmth was gone, was like heaven in her stomach. But it certainly wouldn't be enough. "Fine." 

She followed him alongside the house, not bothering to speak so she could continue eating. The last of the orange glow of day disappeared into the horizon far ahead. Yes, she had really slept for all those sunlit hours. Once again, night, it would seem, was to be her day. Chewing on the last bit of bun, she held her hand out for the next morsel. 

"We’re greedy this evening," Jongdae chuckled. 

 "Did you think I came for your company?" Clara couldn’t help but give a spiteful response. 

Not offended in the slightest, he threw her a rather despicable smile. "Better my company then one of the others."

Though she agreed, she refused to do so aloud. "Are you that different from them?"

He didn't answer. Staring ahead, he reached into the bag and pulled out another bun, holding it out for her. 

"Is this to keep me from asking more questions?"

She managed to make him chuckle. "No. Just to keep you occupied while I answer the last one." 

Too curious, she accepted the bun and took a bite. Jongdae sighed and clasped his hands behind his back, the now nearly empty bag dangling from his fingertips. "We're all different from each other. I'm not more different from them. Though I am better than the others at controlling myself." 

Clara's steps faltered. "Controlling yourself?" 

He nodded. As they passed under another tree, he reached out and swing up into the branches without exerting effort, sitting on a branch well out of Clara's own reach. 

"What are you? All of you,” she asked in a breathy gasp. All they were capable of doing was adding up, but logic told her repeatedly it was impossible. She wanted to try and rationalize it, even try to convince herself that she was still sick with fever. But this was all too real to be a mere hallucination. What it all meant, however, she couldn’t understand. 

Hands grasped around two of the branches, he leaned forward and closed the gap between them. "You seem moderately intelligent. I'm sure you can discover the answer on your own." 

"As flattering as that is," she huffed through clenched teeth, "if the answer means danger then you should be the man to tell me." 

"If?" Jongdae laughed, as if he had read her mind. He jumped from the tree, flattening the bits of hair that had fallen out of place with his fingers. Despite playing in the tree like a child, he looked ever so the gentleman. "'If' is a fantasy.” He glanced behind her. Scared, she followed his gaze, but there was no one there. When she turned back around, she gasped. His nose was mere centimeters from her own. "It does mean danger. You need to keep your eyes and ears open. Happy or not, you are here for a long while and no one is coming for you.'' 

Clara swallowed back tears as his words planted firmly in her heart. Now, she truly accepted it. No running, no escape. She was absolutely at their mercy. Whatever they were. And though Jongdae gave the impression that he was on her side, his help was firmly limited. Food and company, that was all he was good for. 

Walking once again, she solemnly finished the last bit of bun as Jongdae kept pace. When the second helping of bread ran out, she chewed on her next few words. If she was here for the foreseeable future, she might as well know this land’s history. 

"Who’s house is this?"

"Hm?" Jongdae had been lost in thoughts of his own, it appeared. He blinked himself back to the present conversation. "Oh. The manor is Kyungsoo's." 

"Kyungsoo's?" Clara repeated. Odd. The answer she had been expecting was the obvious: Junmyeon. He seemed to be the one everyone looked to for answers or leadership. His word was law, yet this land did not fall to him. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, felt too... isolated, cut away to be the rightful owner of this grand place. The few lords she had met before all possessed the same self-awareness and high opinion of themselves. Kyungsoo didn’t give the appearance that he cared about either. 

"Yes,” Jongdae nodded, his previous teasing gone now. “He inherited it from his father. The family used to own as much land as the eye could see. But his father was a gambler. Terrible at cards, wonderful at losing. They had to sell the land to keep the debtors at bay. Now, all that is left is this manor and a bit of the surrounding land, but no tenants. The glory of the family is now reduced to this.” 

Eyes cast down, she listened to the story with careful respect. It was one sadly more common among the nobility then they wished to admit. Land was constantly switching family names, sometimes it was difficult to keep track. A small fear she had was accidentally reminding a high nobility of their careless ancestor. "What's his family name?" 

"Jongdae! Here's where you disappeared off to." 

Her stroll in the moonlight stuttered to a halt.