The Ten Residents
The mansion is endless. This place feels like it shouldn't belong. And yet somehow admist the chaos of the storm, this place exists. Can you find all Ten Residents?
She had not meant to wander this far. The forest began familiar enough, but the deeper she walked, the more it changed. Towering trees closed in, their trunks dark and damp with moss, branches twisting overhead like tangled ribs that blocked out the sky. The world behind her felt farther away with every step, until it was no longer clear how she had gotten here—or how to return.
The air grew heavy with the scent of wet earth and old leaves. Every path looked the same now. Every direction felt wrong, yet she kept moving, hoping the forest would eventually make sense again. Then the rain began.
At first, only a few cold drops slipped through the canopy. She looked up just as the clouds broke open fully, turning the quiet drizzle into a steady downpour. The forest dimmed beneath the storm, shadows deepening between the trees. She needed shelter.
Quickly, her steps quickened, mud clinging to her shoes as she pushed through the worsening rain. The forest became harder to read, shapes blurring together— Until something appeared ahead. A mansion.
It stood alone in the woods, impossibly large, rising through the trees like something placed rather than built. Its silhouette stretched too far in every direction, windows staring blankly through the rain. No lights. No movement. No sign of life. But it was shelter.
She hesitated only briefly before Guest stepped forward and reached the door. Knock. The sound felt too small. Knock again. Silence. No answer. No footsteps. Nothing.
She glanced back at the rain-soaked forest behind her. There was nowhere else to go. Carefully, Guest pushed the door open. It creaked, slow and heavy, revealing a vast interior bathed in dim torchlight. Warm air spilled out, but it carried an unsettling stillness. The hallway stretched farther than it should have, lined with endless doors and towering ceilings that made her feel small. The walls seemed to extend beyond reason, as if the mansion refused to end.
It felt wrong. Then— Click. The sound came from behind her. She turned immediately. The door was shut. She reached for the handle and pulled. It did not move. She tried again, harder this time. Still nothing. Not even a tremble.
The mansion remained silent. The storm outside was gone. The forest was gone. Only torchlight remained, flickering faintly down an impossible hallway that seemed to go on forever. She was inside now. And she could not leave. So what would she do?
Would she keep trying the door until her strength gave out, hoping it would eventually give way? Would she call out, letting her voice echo through the endless halls in search of someone—anyone? Would she force herself forward, pretending this place is just another building and not something far worse? Or would she stand frozen, realizing too late that the mansion had already decided she was staying?
Rain hammered against the unseen windows of the endless mansion, a relentless drumming that blurred time itself. Somewhere within its sprawling halls, a new presence had arrived—soft-footed, uncertain, alive in a place that rarely welcomed the living. The mansion noticed. And so did its residents.
Amir stood tall in one of the great torch-lit corridors, arms folded as if the very walls owed him obedience. His heterochromic gaze narrowed toward the distant sound of dripping water and shifting footsteps.
A mortal enters my domain… and no one announces it to me? He demanded sharply. How disrespectful.
Cedric, lounging upside down from a chandelier by magic alone, grinned. Oh, Pharaoh, you’re not even the most dramatic thing in this house anymore. That’s progress.
Amir shot him a lethal glare. Watch your tongue, wizard. I have buried men for less.
Cedric only laughed, flicking a tiny spark of light between his fingers. Yes, yes, but have you ever buried someone who walked into your house willingly during a storm? Because I think we just got one of those.
In the upper shadows, Sivan lingered where the torchlight barely dared to reach. His fading wings twitched faintly, as if reacting before he spoke.
She shouldn’t be here, he murmured quietly.
Hakan, leaning against a stone pillar nearby, crossed his arms.
None of us should be here. That’s kind of the point.
Sivan’s grey eyes lowered.
No… I mean she doesn’t belong to the weight of this place.”
Hakan exhaled slowly.
Yeah. That’s what worries me.
Down near the vast indoor pool, Ikshir surfaced slowly, water sliding from his light-blue hair. His gaze drifted toward the corridor beyond the water’s edge.
…Another lost one? he asked softly, as if unsure whether the words were his own memory or borrowed thought.
Zypher stood nearby, hands folded neatly, watching with a calm, patient expression.
She seems frightened, Zypher said gently. We should not add to that fear.
Ikshir tilted his head.
But fear is all this place knows.
Zypher’s soft smile remained.
Then perhaps it is time it learned something else.
Deep within a torch-lined hall, Naveen’s presence coiled like pressure in the air itself. He had already sensed her—before she had even realized she was being watched.
She smells like the outside world, he said quietly, voice smooth as oil over stone.
Rubin’s fangs glinted faintly as he smiled.
Of course it is.
From somewhere deeper in the hall, Venrir let out a low chuckle, rolling his shoulders.
Fresh blood in a place like this? Poor thing’s already lost.
Naveen’s gaze sharpened slightly.
She is not prey.
Venrir grinned.
Everyone is something’s prey.
In the darker stretches where light failed to linger, Kiran stood half-asleep against a wall, violet eyes flickering open and shut like a dying flame. He blinked slowly.
…Someone new? he asked, then paused. Or… was she always here?
He frowned faintly at his own words, as if they had slipped away from him too quickly.
Sivan’s voice echoed softly from above.
She just arrived.
Kiran nodded once. Right. I thought so. Probably.
Then, quieter: I should remember this. But the thought already began to fade.
Near a corridor where the shadows seemed thicker than they should be, Zypher tilted his head slightly, ears twitching.
She is moving deeper into the west wing, he said calmly. That is unwise.
Cedric’s voice echoed from somewhere behind a wall.
Unwise is just another word for interesting!
Amir scoffed.
It's another word for death.
Cedric hummed.
Sometimes those overlap!
In the mansion’s unseen depths, the walls seemed to listen as the girl’s footsteps echoed faintly—uncertain, careful, alive.
The mansion did not decide whether to welcome her, but its residents already had and none of them agreed on what she was: aguest, a nuisance, a curiosity, a meal, or something far worse.
And somewhere in the dark between rooms, something smiled at the idea of finding out.
Release Date 2026.03.28 / Last Updated 2026.03.29