Resident Evil Oneshots

Catching maids

The air in Castle Dimitrescu was perpetually thick with an eerie stillness, a quiet that hummed with the kind of tension that made the walls seem like they were holding their breath. I had grown accustomed to it, or at least that's what I told myself. It was the kind of place where the silence had a weight, where the very stone beneath my feet seemed to carry the whispers of forgotten horrors.

I always kept to myself. It was a lesson learned quickly after arriving at the castle. The fewer words spoken, the fewer glances exchanged, the safer I remained. Not that there was ever true safety within these walls, but one could at least prolong the inevitable. My work was simple enough—scrubbing floors, polishing the elaborate banisters, and keeping the fireplaces burning. Menial tasks that kept my hands busy and my mind occupied, tasks that allowed me to blend into the background, to become part of the very furniture that filled this cursed place.

The ladies of the castle, with their pale, beautiful faces and their eyes that seemed to see straight through you, didn't often concern themselves with someone like me. To them, I was a mere insect, barely worth the effort of noticing unless I somehow inconvenienced them. And I never intended to inconvenience them.

But that didn't mean they left me entirely alone. There were the occasional games, the moments when one of them—usually Cassandra—would decide that her day needed a bit of entertainment. I would feel her gaze before I saw her, that predatory stare that sent a shiver down my spine. Then, there would be a flash of red out of the corner of my eye, and the chase would begin.

I had learned the layout of the castle well enough to avoid her most of the time, ducking into hidden alcoves, or slipping through the narrow passages that only the servants used. Daniela seemed to enjoy the hunt more than the capture, savouring the fear she instilled rather than actually catching her prey. I think she liked to hear the quickening of my breath, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the long corridors as I fled.

But I never ran too fast, never tried too hard to escape. If I did, if I made it too easy, then perhaps she would grow bored, and boredom was dangerous. Boredom might lead her to something far worse than a chase.

On most days, though, they ignored me. I preferred it that way. It allowed me to sink into a kind of rhythm with my work. My tasks were my shield, my way of coping with the strange and terrifying world that surrounded me. The vast halls of the castle, with their cold, dark beauty, became my refuge. I knew every crack in the floor, every hidden door, every peculiar creak that the walls would emit in the dead of night.

It was during one of those quiet moments, while I was polishing the grand staircase, that I first felt the change. The air seemed to grow colder, the shadows lengthening in unnatural ways. My hand paused mid-stroke on the banister, the cloth frozen in place as a chill ran through me. I glanced around, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

And that's when I saw her—Lady Dimitrescu herself, descending the staircase with a grace that belied her towering height. She was a presence, more than just a figure. The very atmosphere seemed to bend to her will, the air thickening with her approach. Her eyes, cold and calculating, flicked down to me as I immediately averted my gaze, bowing my head in submission.

"Good,"

she said, her voice smooth but carrying the weight of command.

"You know your place."

I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. My heart pounded in my chest, a drumbeat of fear that I hoped she could not hear. Her footsteps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing in the cavernous hall. She stopped just beside me, and I could feel her gaze boring into the top of my skull.