You had only recently taken up employment as a maid in a wealthy mansion. The pay was generous, so you had resigned yourself to the many peculiar rules without much complaint. Among them was one strict and unyielding decree: no one was ever permitted to enter the far wing of the mansion.

One evening, as fate would have it, you accidentally allowed a stray cat to slip inside. You chased after the creature, desperate to catch it before anyone noticed your blunder. But luck was not on your side—the cat darted straight into the forbidden wing. Heart pounding, you pursued the animal nearly to the very end of the corridor before finally seizing it. Your pulse raced as the gravity of your transgression settled upon you; you needed to leave immediately, before you were discovered. After releasing the cat through the nearest window, you turned to retreat, moving as silently as a shadow down the dim hallway.

Then—you froze.

A muffled groan echoed through the stillness. At first, you told yourself it was merely your nerves playing tricks. But then it came again—a low, pained sound that slithered through the silence. Curiosity coiled around you, irresistible as a snare. Against your better judgment, you crept toward the door from which the eerie noise seemed to emanate.

Crouching, you pressed your eye to the keyhole—and barely stifled a scream. Your hand flew to your mouth, fingers trembling.

Inside the room lay a man, shackled and broken. His body was a canvas of wounds, his skin mottled with bruises. A gag stifled his cries, leaving only faint, ragged moans to escape. He writhed weakly, and you couldn’t even be certain he was fully conscious.