THE TENANT IN ROOM 309

Rain hammered against the cracked windows of Elena Hart's tiny apartment as she sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the unopened envelope lying beside her. The room smelled faintly of damp walls and instant noodles, a reminder of just how difficult life had become. The landlord had given her one week. Seven days. If she couldn't pay three months' overdue rent, everything she owned would be thrown onto the street. Elena closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. "There's got to be something," she whispered to herself. Her laptop, balanced on a stack of old textbooks, displayed more rejection emails than she cared to count. We regret to inform you... Unfortunately... We have chosen another candidate... She had stopped believing those words days ago. At twenty-three, she possessed a degree in Hospitality Management, excellent grades, glowing references from her internship, and enough determination to move mountains. Yet none of it seemed enough. Her phone buzzed. It was her best friend, Lily. "Please tell me you've found a job," Lily said the moment Elena answered. "I wish." There was silence. "I could lend you something." "You've already done enough." "I hate hearing your voice like this." Elena smiled weakly. "I'm okay." "No, you're pretending." Lily knew her too well. "I'll figure it out." "You always say that." "Because I always do." Another silence. "I saw a strange advertisement today." Elena frowned. "What kind?" "A hotel manager position." "There are thousands of those." "This one isn't." "What do you mean?" "The salary." Elena sat upright. "How much?" "Twenty thousand dollars every month." Her eyes widened. "That's impossible." "I thought so too." "No hotel pays that." "Exactly." "Then it's fake." "I checked." "It's real." Elena laughed bitterly. "People don't pay someone that much unless they're expecting them to survive a war." Lily hesitated. "That's the strange part." "What?" "The hotel has hired twelve managers in the last five years." Elena frowned. "Twelve?" "None stayed longer than six months." "Why?" "No one knows." "That sounds suspicious." "It does." "But you're desperate." "I know." "I'll send you the details." Seconds later, the notification appeared. BLACKWOOD MANOR HOTEL Position: Resident Hotel Manager Salary: $20,000 Monthly Accommodation Included Immediate Employment Interview Tomorrow Elena read the advertisement twice. Then a third time. There were no exaggerated promises. No flashy slogans. Just simple words. Almost too simple. Something about it unsettled her. Still... Twenty thousand dollars. That amount could change everything. She looked around the apartment. Peeling paint. Broken ceiling fan. Tiny kitchenette. A leaking roof. She couldn't afford to be suspicious. She needed hope. And this looked exactly like it. The following morning dawned gray and misty. Elena wore her only navy-blue blazer, carefully ironing the sleeves before leaving. The bus ride took nearly three hours. As the city disappeared behind her, the roads grew quieter. Trees lined both sides of the highway. The buildings became scarce. Eventually, the bus driver stopped. "This is the last stop." Elena stepped down. There was nothing. Just an old iron gate standing between two enormous stone pillars. A weathered sign read: BLACKWOOD MANOR HOTEL Beyond the gate stretched a winding road disappearing into thick fog. She checked her phone. No signal. Perfect. She pulled her suitcase behind her. The iron gate creaked open on its own. Elena froze. Someone must have opened it remotely. At least... She hoped so. The walk seemed endless. Birdsong was absent. Even the wind sounded different. Finally... The fog parted. And there it stood. Blackwood Manor. The building looked less like a hotel and more like a castle forgotten by time. Its towering stone walls reached toward the dark clouds overhead. Dozens of windows reflected the gloomy sky. Ancient gargoyles guarded the roof. Beautiful. Yet strangely unsettling. She couldn't explain why. Something about the place made her feel... watched. The massive front doors opened before she could knock. An elderly woman dressed in black stood inside. "Miss Elena Hart?" "Yes." "We've been expecting you." Her voice was calm. Almost emotionless. "I'm Vivienne Cross." "The housekeeper." She offered no smile. No handshake. Only turned. "Follow me." The entrance hall stole Elena's breath. Crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings painted with breathtaking artwork. Marble floors gleamed beneath her feet. Elegant staircases curved toward the upper floors. Every detail spoke of unimaginable wealth. Yet despite its beauty... The hotel felt empty. Too empty. "Where are the guests?" Elena asked. "They come." "They leave." Vivienne continued walking. Nothing more. Elena hurried after her. They passed countless portraits. Each depicted former hotel managers. Men. Women. Young. Old. All wearing identical silver name badges. Elena slowed. "Why are there so many?" Vivienne didn't stop. "They all worked here." "What happened to them?" "They left." Something in her tone made Elena doubt those words. At the end of the hallway stood enormous wooden doors. Vivienne opened them. Inside sat one man. He stood as Elena entered. Tall. Well over six feet. Tailored black suit. Dark hair. Steel-gray eyes. He looked to be around thirty. His calm expression revealed almost nothing. Yet his presence filled the room. "Miss Hart." His voice was deep. Controlled. "I'm Damien Blackwood." "The owner." Elena extended her hand. He accepted it. His grip was firm. Warm. But his eyes... His eyes looked exhausted. As though he'd spent years carrying a burden no one else could see. "Please sit." She obeyed. "I've reviewed your qualifications." "You graduated top of your class." "Excellent references." "No disciplinary record." "You seem ideal." She blinked. "Thank you." "There is only one question." "I'm listening." Damien folded his hands. "Why do you want this job?" Elena didn't answer immediately. She could have lied. Could have spoken about ambition. Career growth. Dreams. Instead... She chose honesty. "I need a chance." "My parents died when I was fifteen." "I've worked every day since." "I'm tired of surviving." "I want to live." Silence. Damien studied her. For several seconds. Finally... He nodded. "When can you start?" Her heart skipped. "I..." "Immediately." She smiled. "I'd love that." For the first time... Damien smiled too. It was brief. Almost reluctant. Yet it transformed his face completely. "Welcome to Blackwood Manor." As Elena stood to leave, Damien spoke again. "There are only three rules." She turned. "Never enter Room 309." She frowned. "All right." "Never remain in the East Wing after midnight." A strange chill crept over her skin. "And finally..." His expression became serious again. "If anyone knocks on your bedroom door after 2:00 a.m..." He paused. "...don't answer." Elena stared at him, unsure whether he was joking. He wasn't. Outside, thunder shook the manor. Somewhere deep within the hotel... A door slammed shut. And neither of them had moved.