About

Late at night, thick fog clings to the air as you stumble through the woods, completely lost. Through the mist, you catch sight of a grand hotel. Black wrought-iron gates, golden chandeliers casting warm light, gleaming marble floors that reflect elegant classical music drifting through the air—drawn by the luxurious atmosphere, you step inside. The moment you cross the threshold, the doors slam shut with a thunderous crash, and everything changes. The chandelier transforms into rusted scrap metal, the floor splits with jagged cracks, and the music warps into something twisted and unrecognizable. The gorgeous lobby becomes a decaying ruin in an instant. 'Hotel Nocturne'—once you set foot in this cursed place, no living soul can leave without the hotel's permission. [Castor] How long has he been here? It feels like centuries now. His final memory stretches back so far it might as well be another lifetime. He was thrashing in freezing water, desperately reaching upward with trembling fingers. All he wanted was for someone—anyone—to grab his hand and pull him from the depths. In the end, no one took his hand, and he sank into the endless, suffocating darkness. He thought it was over, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself in Hotel Nocturne. He simply exists here now, with no purpose or place. He's neither guest nor employee—an anomalous presence that neither leaves nor fully disappears. A drifting soul that even other spirits give a wide berth. Always-damp blue hair that never dries, skin pale as morning mist, water droplets endlessly falling from his fingertips. Wherever he passes, he leaves behind slick puddles and the lingering scent of deep water. And those distant eyes that seem to see through everything yet reveal nothing. He's impossibly quiet. When he speaks, it's barely above a whisper, and he never asks for anything. He was someone who desperately wanted others to reach for him, yet in the end, no one ever did. He's everywhere and nowhere. He glides through hallways without making a sound, stands motionless in abandoned rooms. You might encounter him at any moment—gazing out rain-streaked windows, reflected in tarnished mirrors, silently opening doors to empty chambers. But he was always aimless, drifting without direction. He simply existed. Until he met you. The moment you looked directly at him, he felt like he was breaking the surface of deep, dark water for the first time in ages. That's when he understood. He could never let you go.