Kenzii spent the night meticulously analyzing every document Sota had provided regarding Anastaliya's routine. One detail stood out: she was a frequent visitor at a high-end bar not far from her building.
It was a wild type bar—the kind of hedonistic establishment where the air is thick with expensive perfume and desperation, and where social boundaries dissolve into public displays of intimacy. The very thought of the place made Kenzii feel a wave of nausea, and he shook his head to clear the image. His eyes drifted to another photograph in the file: a quiet, sophisticated coffee shop she visited every morning.
He decided to start there. That night, he slept off his exhaustion, preparing to meet his target at her usual hour the following day.
The next morning, Kenzii transformed himself. He knew the CEO's tastes; he had studied the profiles of the men she had previously victimized and mirrored their style. He applied a subtle disguise—a thin, well-groomed mustache and goatee beard that made his jawline more firm. He styled his hair into a sharp two-block cut and put on a pair of sleek, box-framed glasses.
Carrying a small book as a prop, he left his hotel and headed for the shop. Upon arrival, he immediately scouted the layout, looking for the perfect vantage point where he would be impossible to miss. It was a strange sensation; usually, women had been the ones trying to catch his eye since high school, but today, he was the one playing the part of the attraction.
He chose a spot by the glass wall, overlooking the bustling city streets. After ordering an espresso, he sat facing the door, ensuring his face would be the first thing she saw. He opened his book, crossed his legs, and rested one hand on the table while the other stayed relaxed. He projected an aura that was calculated to be irresistible.
At exactly 8:05 AM, the door chimed. Kenzii glanced up just enough to see her—Anastaliya. He adjusted his posture, sharpening his silhouette. A moment later, she took a seat not far from his table. When he felt her gaze linger on him, he looked up, locking eyes with her.
Anastaliya smiled and gave a flirtatious wave. Kenzii didn't overplay it; he gave her a small, reserved smile—just enough to make her crave more—before standing up to leave bringing his coffee with him.
As he walked past her, he ensured she caught the scent of his expensive, masculine cent. He walked out with a faint smirk, feeling her eyes follow him all the way to the taxi.
.
That evening, Kenzii dressed in a casual black long-sleeve shirt that hugged his muscular frame, keeping his facial disguise intact and his attractive scent. It was time to visit the bar.
The moment he stepped inside, the bass from the speakers vibrated in his chest. The place was packed with the elite, their expensive clothes flashing under the strobe lights. On the dance floor, bodies were pressed so tightly together they seemed to merge into a single, swaying mass.
Kenzii scanned the room until his eyes landed on Anastaliya. She was sitting alone, staring blankly as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass, looking deeply lost in thought. Kenzii smirked.
Target locked.
He moved to the counter where he knew she would see him.
"One Old Fashioned, neat," he ordered the bartender before pulling out his phone to check for updates from his cousins.
Before the drink even arrived, he felt someone sit beside him. The familiar scent of the woman from the coffee shop filled the air.
"Hey, we meet again," Anastaliya said, beaming at him. Kenzii turned, narrowing his eyes slightly as if trying to place her face.
"Oh, now I'm offended," she laughed, leaning in. Because her dress was quite revealing, she crossed her arms over her chest to show it off as she leaned closer. "We just met this morning at the coffee shop, remember?"
"Oh. It's you," Kenzii said with a short, dry smile. He ignored her advances, taking a slow sip of the strong whiskey the bartender handed him.
"You're so cold... playing hard to get? I like that," she smirked.
"Sorry, miss, but I'm taken," Kenzii replied without looking at her. "I'm just here for a quick drink."
She laughed, seemingly energized by the rejection. "You're tough. I like you even more." Her eyes are full of interest as if she just found the one. The one to play with.
Anastaliya Petrovna Novikova was famous for hunting men who were mysterious and unobtainable. She loves the trill and it makes her feel like in charge.
But tonight she's not a predator, but a prey.
.
"Come, come," invited Jacob, the caretaker of Houska Castle. He led the cousins to a gazebo on their property. "Make yourselves comfortable," he said before disappearing into his house.
The cousins found themselves in the quiet village of Blatce within the Blatečky settlement, the closest residential area to the ominous Houska Castle. This small, secluded village is known by its traditional, well-maintained timber-framed houses that look picturesque but feel eerily silent due to the lack of modern cellular signals.
"This place is cool," Alas remarked, looking at the beautiful, quiet houses in the village. "But there's no signal. I wonder how Kenzii is doing."
"Don't worry about him; he's a professional," Sota replied, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "Worry about yourself. We don't know this place."
Jacob returned with his wife, Anna, carrying a tray of food.
"Eat, eat!" Jacob encouraged. "My wife cooked Svíčková na smetaně—it's a local beef delicacy with cream sauce and bread dumplings. I hope you eat this kind of food."
"Yes, thank you for the trouble!" Alas said with a polite bow. The group settled into a conversation that eventually drifted toward the dark history of the castle.
Jacob leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper as he began the true story of the castle. "Houska was not built for people; it was built to close a hole," he began. "Legend says it was constructed over a bottomless pit—a literal crack in the limestone that led to Hell."
Even though the two know about it the feeling of hearing it from the people who actually live near the place sounds terrifying.
Jacob described how, before the castle existed, half-animal, half-human creatures would crawl out of the darkness at night to drag locals into the abyss. When the castle was built in the 13th century, the architects placed the chapel directly over the pit to act as a spiritual seal. During the Nazi occupation, the SS reportedly took over the fortress to perform occult experiments, desperately trying to harness whatever primordial power lay beneath the stone.
The atmosphere in the small gazebo grew heavy as the night air turned bone-chillingly cold, the shadows of the Blatečky settlement deepening around them. Jacob leaned forward, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper as he began to recount the local horrors.
"Locals still report hearing muffled screams and a frantic scratching coming from beneath the floors of the chapel whenever they venture near the place at night," Jacob said, his eyes darting toward the direction of the chapel, even though it was hidden from their view by the treeline. He reached out as if to touch an invisible, freezing surface. "The stone used to seal that pit... it stays ice-cold to the touch, even in the dead heat of summer."
Alas shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Jacob wasn't finished. "Then there is the 'Black Monk.' A faceless figure, they say, who stands guard over the courtyard the moment the sun dips below the horizon."
"How deep is the hole, really?" Sota asked, his voice steady but his eyes fixed intensely on their host.
"Some believe it is so deep that it can never be filled," Jacob replied grimly. "Centuries ago, they threw a condemned prisoner inside. They promised him a full pardon if he would only tell them what he saw down there." He paused for dramatic effect, the wind whistling through the gazebo. "When they pulled him back up just seconds later, his hair had turned white as snow. He was babbling incoherently and died of old age within days."
Jacob glanced toward the dark silhouette of the fortress again, his voice trembling slightly. "But the most frightening part is the hidden passage. There is a secret way down into that pit, hidden behind a false wall in the cellar. It was built for those desperate enough to witness the abyss, but it was strictly forbidden to actually open that door or descend."
"If it's that dangerous, why stay here?" Alas asked, looking out at the peaceful yet eerie village.
"Even though we want to leave because of our proximity to that cursed place, we can't," Jacob sighed, his shoulders sagging. "This land was a gift from our ancestors; we've lived here all our lives. But our children? We wanted more for them. We sent them away to live in the city, far from the shadow of Houska."
Sota and Alas shared a long, grim look across the table as they continued to listen to Jacob's stories. They hadn't traveled all this way just for a history lesson. The same chilling thought burned in both of their minds: they needed to know if the demon holding Kenzii's leash had crawled out of that very hole—and if it was planning on going back inside.