SMILE: A Terrible Night.

Old Armoire bled.

Chapter 9: (Scarlet's pov)

His voice was calm, almost casual, as if we were discussing something mundane. The casualness of his tone made it all the more terrifying. I had to find a way out before he reached me. In a desperate move, I turned and dashed up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest.

The first floor of the house was like a maze of dark wood and shadows. The walls were covered with old wallpaper that used to be fancy but now looked old and dirty. The patterns on the wallpaper, with flowers and swirls, seemed to move in the dim light, playing tricks on my eyes. The air smelled like dust and mold, showing that the house had been empty for a long time.

The grand staircase I had come down was the main feature of the foyer. The bannister was made of dark mahogany wood, polished to a shine that reflected the weak light coming through the high windows. The steps made loud, creaking sounds under my feet, as if they didn't want me to walk on them. At the bottom of the stairs, the foyer opened into a long hallway with several closed doors leading to different rooms.

To my left, there were heavy, fancy doors with brass handles that were now tarnished and dull. I knew from earlier that these doors led to the drawing room. Inside, there was antique furniture covered in white sheets, looking like ghosts from the past. I could almost picture the grand piano in the corner, the velvet curtains closed, and the fireplace cold and empty.

To my right, a single door led to the dining room. I remembered the long, mahogany table in the center, surrounded by tall chairs with faded burgundy fabric. The room felt like it used to be very elegant, with a big chandelier hanging over the table. The chandelier's crystals caught the dim light and made eerie reflections on the walls. The sideboard against one wall was filled with dusty china and old, tarnished silverware, leftovers from forgotten dinners.

Straight ahead, at the end of the hallway, was the kitchen. The door was slightly open, and I could see the edge of a large, cast-iron stove. The kitchen looked very different from the rest of the house. It was more practical and less fancy. The oak cabinets were sturdy but some of their doors were crooked, showing shelves filled with old, rusty pots and pans. The sink was stained and chipped, and the countertops were covered with ancient, unused appliances.

The hallway itself was long and narrow, with more closed doors that led to unknown rooms. The wooden floorboards were scratched and worn, and the varnish was mostly gone. The walls had portraits of serious-looking ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow me as I moved. Each painting was in a heavy, gold frame.

Every room was closed off by Kim Taehyung. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant sound of the storm outside. The small windows high on the walls let in only slivers of light, casting long shadows.

The light fixtures on the walls were old and dusty, with bulbs that flickered weakly as if they might go out at any moment. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows, making the hallway feel even more isolated. I could hear the soft pattern of rain against the windows, reminding me of the storm outside which was still going on.

When I reached the end of the hallway, I stopped, breathing hard. Every door I had passed was still closed. I raced to the second floor. The hallway was dark and narrow, every door I tried was locked tight. Panic set in as I tried one handle after another, all refusing to give. I glanced over the banister to see what Taehyung's next move was.

To my horror, I saw him heading towards the kitchen. He rummaged through the drawers, and my blood ran cold as he pulled out a large knife. I was so shocked I could hardly breathe. I quickly turned and ran towards the staircase leading to the third floor, hoping to find refuge there.

The stairs creaked under my weight, and I could hear his slow, deliberate footsteps following me. I reached the third floor and frantically tried each door, my desperation mounting as each one proved to be locked. Then, finally, one door gave way. I quickly slipped inside and closed it behind me, but my heart sank when I realized there was no lock.

I scanned the room for a place to hide. There was an old armoire in the corner, its doors slightly ajar. I hurried over, opened the doors wider, and squeezed inside, pulling them shut behind me. I crouched low, trying to make myself as small and silent as possible.

The confined space of the armoire was stifling. I could hear my own breathing, shallow and rapid, as I tried to calm my racing heart. Every sound outside the armoire seemed amplified: the creak of the floorboards, the distant hum of the house, and, most terrifyingly, the slow, deliberate footsteps of Taehyung as he climbed the stairs.

Taehyung: Come out, come out, wherever you are.

His voice was sing-song, almost playful, but it sent a shiver down my spine. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise, praying he wouldn't find me. The footsteps grew louder, closer. He was on the third floor now, and I could hear him moving down the hallway, checking each room.

Taehyung: You can't hide from me forever, Scarlet.

I held my breath, every muscle in my body tense with fear. The footsteps paused outside the door of the room I was in. My heart felt like it would burst from my chest. The door creaked open, and I heard him enter the room.

Taehyung: Oh, Princess. Where are you hiding?

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to be invisible. I could hear him moving around the room, opening and closing drawers, checking under the bed. The tension was unbearable. Then, the footsteps moved closer to the armoire.

Taehyung: Maybe you're in here?

The doors of the armoire rattled, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. But then, miraculously, he moved away, his footsteps fading as he left the room. I waited, counting the seconds, until I was sure he was gone.

Slowly, I opened the doors of the armoire and peeked out. The room was empty, but I knew he was still somewhere in the house, hunting me. I needed to find a way out, and I needed to do it fast. The game was far from over, and I had to survive.