The Dinner With No Meal

That evening, after a few hollow hours spent pretending to read a book in the drawing room, Adrien appeared again. This time in a dark velvet suit, hair slicked back, expression unreadable.

“It’s time,” he said.

“For what?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“Dinner. You’ll sit with the family again tonight. It’s… important.”

I followed him down the shadow-soaked corridors, the black cat pacing ahead like a tiny guardian—or a guide into darkness. With every step, the silence seemed to grow heavier, the very walls pressing in with unspoken tension.

---

When we reached the dining hall, nothing had changed.

Same table.

Same heavy curtains.

Same seven figures seated in exactly the same arrangement.

And at the center of the long table?

The silver revolver.

Still there.

Still gleaming.

But this time, there was something else.

An empty eighth chair—this time waiting for me.

The tall woman with the crimson pendant nodded as I sat. “The guest is becoming part of the rhythm,” she said. “Soon you’ll feel the pull of the clockwork.”

Clockwork?

Adrien pulled out his own chair, next to mine, and sat gracefully.

Then the butler entered—silent as breath—and placed before each family member a single, sealed envelope.

No plates. No forks. Just parchment.

When he came to me, he placed mine gently in front of me, bowed, and vanished into the shadows again.

Adrien didn’t touch his. No one did.

The silver-haired woman spoke.

“Let the test begin.”

Suddenly, all eyes turned to me.

The little boy with the giggle leaned forward. “Open yours.”

My hand trembled as I reached for the envelope. The seal was wax—deep red, like dried blood. Stamped with a rose.

I broke it and pulled out the slip of paper inside.

There were only three words:

"Pick the gun."

I looked up. Adrien was watching me closely. So was everyone else.

“Is this… some kind of game?” I asked, voice shaking.

“No,” the woman said simply. “It’s the law of the house.”

I stared at the revolver. “What happens if I don’t pick it?”

“You dream,” said the boy. “But not the kind you wake from.”

I sat frozen, every muscle tense.

Adrien reached over, his fingers barely brushing mine. “You’re safe,” he said gently. “For now. Just do what it says.”

With a deep breath, I reached toward the center of the table, wrapping my fingers around the cool metal of the gun.

The moment I lifted it, something happened.

The room changed.

The curtains turned translucent, revealing moonlight outside—except the moon was red.

The family disappeared—vanished like smoke.

The table stretched and curled around me like a serpent, the wood groaning like it lived. The cat sat beside my chair, now humanoid, her face part-feline, part-woman.

“You passed the first gate,” she purred. “You won’t be devoured tonight.”

---

Suddenly, everything snapped back to normal.

Adrien was at my side, steadying me.

The family sat, unmoved, unbothered.

The revolver was back at the center of the table.

Empty.

I looked down at my hands—they were clean, but I felt like I’d just pulled them from a grave.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered.

Adrien smiled faintly. “The mansion… gets hungry.”

“And if I hadn’t picked it up?”

He didn’t answer.

But the boy did.

“You would’ve become part of the wallpaper.”

He giggled again.

---

After dinner, Adrien walked me back to my room in silence. The hallway stretched oddly tonight, like it was resisting our return.

Once inside, he lingered at the door.

“You’ve passed the first test,” he said quietly. “But the house isn’t done with you.”

I nodded slowly. “What happens next?”

He looked at me with something almost like regret.

“You start remembering.”

Then he closed the door and left me in the silence.

I didn’t sleep that night.

Because I knew he was right.

The dreams were already waiting.

And the house… was listening.

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