After lunch, Elira returned to her room for a quick breather, but her restless energy wouldn't let her stay still. She tossed her phone onto the bed, slipped on a pair of soft-soled flats, and tied her hair into a low, lazy ponytail. She didn't want to waste the few hours of free time she had before the next story session.
So, she wandered.
Elira ventured down a corridor she hadn't explored yet. The hallway was quieter than the others, dimmer, and slightly colder—as if the sunlight avoided this particular part of the estate. Yet the further she walked, the more vibrant it became.
The first door she passed had a golden plaque: Cinema Room.
She blinked.
What?
Curiosity bloomed in her chest, and she nudged the door open gently. The hinges gave a slight creak—surprisingly, the first real sound she'd heard in this otherwise pristine mansion.
Inside was a private movie theatre. Plush recliner seats in deep maroon were arranged in ascending rows. A massive projection screen dominated the front wall, flanked by velvet curtains. The air smelled faintly of leather and something sweet—maybe old popcorn.
"Okay, rich boy," she mumbled to herself. "You really don't do anything halfway."
She left the door slightly ajar and kept walking, marveling at what else she might find.
The next room: Billiards & Lounge.
She peeked in. A sleek black pool table stood under a chandelier of antique bulbs. Surrounding it were velvet couches, a liquor cabinet with probably thousands of bucks worth of rare bottles, and a record player in the corner—vinyls neatly stacked beside it.
No dust. No clutter. But no warmth either.
Everything was pristine, unused. It made the space feel more like a museum than an entertainment room. She almost felt like she'd get scolded for breathing in there.
Then, a little farther down the hallway, she found a set of double doors—these wider and less decorative, but intriguing nonetheless.
There was no label on this one.
She pushed it open and gasped softly.
It was a full-blown entertainment area.
She stepped into what could only be described as a leisure complex. To her left, a full mini bowling alley stretched out with two polished lanes, complete with an automatic pin-setting machine. To her right, a small but brightly lit arcade section with classic machines—Pac-Man, Space Invaders, and even a claw machine filled with plush toys.
Beyond that, there was a foosball table, a dartboard, a corner set up with consoles and flat screens, and a shelf lined with board games, neatly arranged and likely untouched. The lights flickered on automatically as she stepped further in.
"Are you kidding me?" she whispered to herself.
Her footsteps echoed slightly as she walked toward the bowling alley, pausing at the racks filled with glossy, multicolored bowling balls, each lined up like soldiers waiting for battle.
She turned her head slowly, taking it all in. "Does he… ever leave this place?"
Because really, why would he need to? There was everything here. More than what most luxury hotels offered. Movie theatre, lounge, garden, a piano room, now a literal bowling alley? Aleksei could be snowed in for months and barely notice.
But still… something was off.
It all looked perfect. It all looked untouched.
Too untouched.
Like the kind of spaces staged for guests that never arrived.
Elira sighed and leaned against the ball return machine. "Maybe he built it for someone," she murmured to herself, "and they never came."
Her chest tightened slightly at the thought. She wasn't sure why. Maybe because she was starting to realize there was a strange loneliness woven into the walls of this enormous house. Luxury so meticulously arranged it bordered on obsessive… but no evidence of joy in it.
It made her chest feel hollow for a beat.
Still, she reached out, grabbed one of the lighter bowling balls, and walked toward the first lane. The screen above flickered to life with blue and green animations. Apparently, it activated with motion.
Neat.
She slid her fingers into the holes, squared her shoulders, and tossed it down the lane.
It wasn't perfect—but it wasn't bad either.
Seven pins down.
"Not bad for someone in skinny jeans," she mumbled, grinning at herself.
She reset the lane and did it again. And again. The sound of pins crashing filled the room like thunder in a canyon. She laughed softly at her own competitiveness.
After her fifth round, she finally sat down on one of the padded leather benches and wiped her hands on her jeans. She looked around again—everything still and silent once more, save for the blinking lights of the arcade machines.
"Does anyone even use this?" she muttered.
It didn't seem like Aleksei was the type to come here and shoot darts or play Pac-Man. And she hadn't seen or heard a single person in this wing of the house. No distant footsteps. No noise. Just the whirring of machines and the echo of her own breath.
Maybe this place had been made for a family that never materialized.
Or maybe for a version of himself he never became.
Shaking her head, she stood up again and walked over to the claw machine. She stared at it for a moment before inserting a coin from a bowl on the side labeled Tokens – Please Use Freely. She chuckled. How considerate.
The claw wobbled above the plush toys—a mix of cartoon animals and slightly creepy smiling suns. She moved it, pressed the button, and watched it descend.
It caught something—a tiny fox—and then let go just before reaching the chute.
"Figures," she muttered.
She tried again. And again. Until finally, on the third try, she managed to snatch a tiny plush bunny with oversized ears and heart-shaped eyes. It dropped into the tray with a satisfying clunk.
She picked it up, examining the oddly cute little creature.
"Guess I found a friend," she whispered, stuffing it into her pocket.
Just then, the room's main lights flickered, dimmed slightly—like the house reminding her of the time.
Elira glanced down at her phone. It was almost 3:00 p.m. Still a few hours until dinner.
But a sense of stillness crept in again—the kind that didn't feel like peace. It felt like... being watched.
She looked over her shoulder.
No one.
Just her, her bunny plush, and enough games to distract an entire party of children.
She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and whispered, "You better not be some kind of ghost plush. I have enough weird going on."
The bunny, of course, didn't reply.
But she smiled anyway.
Elira stepped out of the entertainment room with a faint smirk still playing on her lips and the newly-won bunny plush tucked in the crook of her arm like a strange, silent companion. She gave the bowling alley one last glance before closing the door behind her.
She made a mental note—Come back later and explore the movie selection in the private theatre. If the rest of the estate was anything to go by, Aleksei's movie library probably included everything from silent black-and-white films to obscure foreign horror flicks no one else had ever heard of.
As she wandered down the corridor, the silence that cloaked the mansion pressed close again, like velvet wrapping around her senses. The kind of silence that made her shoes sound louder than they should. That made even the creak of her joints as she stretched feel intrusive.
"I wonder if he has a spa in here somewhere," she muttered to herself, shifting the bunny to her other arm. "I mean, he has a private bowling alley, a movie theatre, and a piano room. A spa just makes sense. Maybe with a gold-plated hot tub and a personal masseuse named Viktor."
She snorted at her own joke and turned a corner into a different hallway—this one warmer, lit with yellow sconces and decorated with tall vases filled with cherry blossom stems. More ornate than the others. Less modern. It had a timeless, luxurious touch. The kind of hallway someone actually used.
Elira was about to examine one of the gilded wall paintings when she collided with something hard.
Very hard.
"Oof!" she stumbled backward slightly, her bunny plush slipping from her arm and plopping unceremoniously to the floor.
She blinked, nose scrunched from the impact, and looked up.
And up.
Straight into the cool, unreadable eyes of Aleksei.
His broad chest—black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled halfway—loomed inches from her. She stepped back with a wince, one hand flying to her nose as she grumbled, "Seriously? Do you not make noise when you walk? You're built like a building—why are you so stealthy?"
One of his brows arched slowly. "Are you implying I should announce myself before turning corners in my own house?"
She shot him a narrow-eyed glare, still massaging her nose. "I'm implying that you have the grace of a ghost and the mass of a freight truck. My poor nose didn't stand a chance."
His lips twitched.
Amusement?
Aleksei looked down, noting the bunny plush now sitting sadly between them on the marble floor. He crouched with that same eerie smoothness he seemed to carry in every movement and picked it up.
He held it up between two fingers as if examining a rare artifact.
"A prize?" he asked, his voice edged in dry curiosity.
Elira snatched it gently from his grasp. "From the claw machine," she answered, tucking it under her arm again. "A hard-earned victory. Took three tries."
He stared at her for a beat too long.
She shifted on her feet. "What? I figured if your house is going to be a luxury resort, I might as well enjoy the amenities while I'm here."
He tilted his head slightly. "And what else have you discovered in my… resort?"
Elira crossed her arms loosely. "A lot of unused rooms. Spaces that look expensive but unlived-in. You've got arcade games collecting dust and a cinema that probably hasn't seen a human in years. Makes me wonder why you even have them."
"I don't like clutter," Aleksei said evenly, "but I believe in being prepared."
"Prepared for what? Hosting the entire Russian ballet troupe for a sleepover?"
That earned her something rare—an actual soft huff of laughter. Low and brief, but unmistakable.
He looked at her again, this time not with the practiced coldness he usually wore, but something lighter. It made Elira momentarily aware of how close they were standing again.
She cleared her throat, gesturing to the hallway behind him. "Do you have a spa somewhere in here? Just out of curiosity."
His brow lifted. "Would it surprise you if I said yes?"
"Not even a little," she said, deadpan. "At this point I expect a helicopter pad and maybe a secret chocolate factory behind one of the bookcases."
He gave a small smile—so faint it barely counted as one. "You are surprisingly easy to amuse."
"And you are surprisingly good at sneaking around like a seven-foot-tall cat," she shot back.
He gave her a measured look before stepping aside. "The spa is down that hallway. Past the mirrored doors."
She blinked. "You're actually telling me?"
"You're not a prisoner, Elira," he said, tone level. "I told you this morning—your time is your own between stories. You're free to explore."
"Right." She started walking past him, clutching the bunny again. "Until I bump into the basement full of body bags."
He turned slightly. "If I had a basement full of body bags, do you think I'd leave the door unlocked?"
She froze.
He didn't clarify if it was a joke.
Elira narrowed her eyes at him, then continued walking without answering, muttering something under her breath about "men with murder house aesthetics."
He followed a few steps behind her.
"So," he said, voice smooth as silk and just a little too curious, "this bunny. Does it have a name?"
She paused mid-step. Looked down at the plush. Then back at him.
"You don't strike me as the type to care about stuffed animals," she said.
"I don't," he agreed. "But you clearly do."
She sighed. "His name is Sir Flop."
Aleksei blinked. "…Sir Flop."
She shrugged. "He's dignified. And he flops."
He looked as though he was trying to decide whether or not she was mocking him. She wasn't.
They walked in silence for a moment before he said, "Would you like to see the spa now?"
Elira hesitated. "Nah. I'll save it for tomorrow. One luxurious discovery at a time."
Aleksei gave a slight nod. "As you wish."
She reached the top of the staircase again and turned to glance at him. "Seriously, though. Don't sneak up on people like that. You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days."
He lifted a brow again. "You seem fine."
She huffed and walked off toward her room. "That's because I'm too tired to react dramatically. But next time I might swing Sir Flop at your head."
"I look forward to it," he said, voice rich with amusement, before turning and disappearing back down the hallway.
Elira reached her bedroom door and exhaled heavily. She looked down at the bunny in her arms.
"Well, Sir Flop," she murmured, "he's still creepy, but at least he laughed today."