I barely slept.

The next morning, I was a wreck, standing outside Veronica’s door with her breakfast tray.

I took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in," she called.

I pushed the door open and saw her sitting at her vanity, powdering her face.

"Put the breakfast on the nightstand," she said, not looking at me.

I walked over carefully, trying not to make a sound. Just as I was about to set the tray down, the door opened again.

Chloe walked in.

I froze. The tray in my hands began to shake violently. The memories from last night flooded back: Chloe pinned to the ground, the black fungus, those empty eyes...

"Miss, I've come to do your hair," Chloe said, her voice as flat as ever.

She started toward the vanity, pulling a silver-backed brush from a drawer. But as she passed me, she stopped and turned to look at me. Her eyes held an unsettling glint, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You seem nervous, Ava," she said, her voice laced with a strange, hollow concern. "Are you not feeling well?"

I tried to answer, but my throat was stuffed with cotton. The mutism was back, my voice stolen by sheer terror.

Chloe took a step closer. "You look pale. Let me feel your forehead..."

She reached a hand toward me.

"Don't!" I finally found my voice, sharp and high-pitched.

I stumbled back, but my heel hit the leg of the bed and I lost my balance. The silver tray flew from my hands. The teapot hit the floor and shattered, sending scalding hot tea everywhere. The pain of it splashing onto my arm made me cry out.

"What are you doing?!" Mrs. Carson’s voice boomed from the doorway, her face red with anger. "You clumsy fool!"

She stormed into the room, her expression growing darker as she took in the mess. "Look what you've done! This tea set was imported from London! It’s worth three months of your wages!"

"I'm sorry..." I knelt, fumbling to pick up the broken pieces. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Enough!" Veronica shot to her feet, hands on her hips. "You're all giving me a headache!"

She glared down at me. "Leave the idiot to clean up her own mess. No one helps her until it's spotless."

"Yes, Miss." Mrs. Carson nodded respectfully, then shot me a venomous look. "You heard her. You'd better make this floor cleaner than it was before, or you're out of this manor for good!"

She turned and marched out, Chloe following close behind. As terrifying as Miss Veronica could be, I was relieved to see them go.

After the door clicked shut, Veronica knelt in front of me. Her expression had completely changed. The anger was gone, replaced by an urgent tension.

She leaned in, her voice a low whisper. "You've seen it too, haven't you? They're not themselves anymore."

My eyes widened. My heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of my chest.

She knew. She knew all of it.

"Listen," she whispered, her voice tight. "Someone could be listening through the walls. Play along. Act like I'm still yelling at you."

Then, her voice rose to a shout. "And when you're done, you will brew me a fresh pot of tea! If you screw that up, I'll have my father throw you out on the street!"

She dropped her voice again. "If you really saw something last night, nod."

I hesitated for a second, then gave a slight nod.

A flicker of relief crossed Veronica's eyes. "Good. I was starting to think I was the only one."

"What did you see last night?"

I pulled a small notepad and pencil from my pocket and quickly scribbled: The greenhouse. Mrs. Carson and the others… what they did to Chloe. Black stuff… from her mouth to Chloe's.

Veronica read the note, then quickly tore it into tiny pieces and tossed them into the fireplace.

"It's a parasitic fungus," she whispered. "It controls the brain through those black mycelial threads. The host looks normal, but their consciousness is gone, completely replaced."

My hands stopped moving. I was shaking all over.

"So... the thing in your room..."

"A sample I managed to kill with a special chemical agent," she explained. "I've been trying to find a way to fight them. But this is worse than I thought."

She paused, her voice dropping even lower. "Chloe is infected. So is Mrs. Carson. I don't know how many others are. We can't let them know we know, not until we figure out what we're dealing with."

She stood and walked to the window, pretending to adjust the curtains. "From now on, we're allies. But remember, in front of anyone else, we act normal. If they find out, we're dead."

I nodded, feeling a sliver of hope for the first time.

I wasn't alone in this.

But a new, terrifying thought crept in. We knew about Mrs. Carson and Chloe. But who else?

A wave of despair washed over me. In this manor, anyone could be the enemy. How could we possibly figure out who was still human and who was now a puppet for those horrifying parasites?

Veronica had a plan.

"I know how to tell them apart," she said. "The hosts develop a dark, web-like pattern of filaments under their skin. It's usually most visible on the neck and chest."

"The problem," she continued, "is that the marks are always hidden by their uniforms. We need a way to make them show some skin."

An idea sparked in my mind. I quickly wrote it down on my notepad and handed it to her.

She read it and a grim, satisfied smile spread across her face. "Good idea."

A short while later, she had Mrs. Carson gather all the maids in the tower. There were eight of them, including Chloe. We all stood in our crisp black-and-white uniforms, heads bowed, looking perfectly normal.

Veronica's eyes scanned the line of women. "I seem to have misplaced a diamond necklace," she announced, her voice dripping with her usual arrogance. "And I'm quite certain the thief is one of you."

She pointed to a dressing room in the corner. "All of you, into the dressing room. I want you to strip to the waist so I can personally inspect you for my property."

No one dared to disobey. Mrs. Carson led the way, and the others filed in behind her. As the door closed, my heart began to pound against my ribs.

Mrs. Carson was the first to undress. As she unbuttoned her uniform, revealing her chest, I saw it. Her skin was a nightmarish canvas of dark purple lines, a dense web spreading across her collarbones and chest. In the dim light, they seemed to have an unnatural, living sheen.

One by one, the other maids removed their blouses.

And one by one, they revealed the same horrifying marks.

Every single maid in the room, except for me, was infected. They were all puppets.

Even more terrifying, as they stood there, half-undressed, the way they looked at me changed. The blank indifference was gone, replaced by a dangerous, predatory focus. It felt like being prey surrounded by predators.

Chloe slowly turned to face me, the web of filaments on her chest seeming to pulse in the dim light.

"Ava," she said, her voice flat and emotionless. "Your turn."

All eyes were on me. I was surrounded, about to be torn apart. I forced myself to stay calm, to mirror their empty expressions.

I took off my blouse. My chest, too, was covered in a web of dark lines.

Mrs. Carson’s eyes lingered on my chest for a few seconds before she nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face. The tension in the room broke. The maids relaxed, their expressions returning to that vacant stare. I had passed their test.

Thank God for Veronica, who had spent ten minutes before the gathering painting the intricate patterns on my skin with a mix of inks and dyes.

They hadn't noticed a thing. If they had, I'd either be dead or one of them.

The maids dressed and filed out of the room. As I left, I turned and gave Veronica a slight shake of my head.

She understood. There were no other survivors.

In this tower, it was just the two of us against all of them.

Veronica stared into space for a long moment before looking at me, her expression hard as steel. "We have to get out of here. Now."

"Where would we go?" I scribbled on my notepad.

"The main house. To my father," she said, pacing the room. "He has to know about this. He's the only one with the power and resources to stop this."

I thought of the way the maids had looked at me, a cold dread washing over me. "But what if they notice we're gone?"

"It's a better option than sitting here waiting to die," Veronica shot back, stopping to look me in the eye. "Ava, we don't have a choice. If we stay here, they'll figure us out sooner or later. And when they do..."

She didn't have to finish.

We waited until the dead of night, until we were sure everyone was asleep, before slipping out of the tower. We ran across the manicured lawns to the main house. Veronica led me through long, silent corridors to her father’s private study.

A golden line of light shone from under the door. Mr. Alistair Vanderhorn was still awake.

Veronica took a deep breath and knocked.

"Enter," a tired voice called from within.

We pushed the door open. The room was thick with cigar smoke. Alistair sat behind a massive desk, buried in ledgers and paperwork. He frowned when he saw us.

"Veronica? You're supposed to be in the tower, reflecting on your mistakes. Why are you here?" His voice was cold, displeased. "And you," he said, his gaze shifting to me, "a servant. Who gave you permission to enter my study?"

Just then, a man standing in the corner of the room took a step forward. He was tall, dressed in a sharp black suit. It was Ethan, the head of security. When he saw my face, his eyebrows twitched in surprise.

"You..." he said under his breath.

Alistair waved a dismissive hand. "Go back to where you belong. I don't have time for this nonsense."

Veronica didn't have time to explain. She surged forward, pretending to straighten her father's collar. Before he could react, she yanked his shirt open, exposing his neck and chest.

"Veronica! What in God's name are you doing?" Alistair roared.

"Thank God..." Veronica stepped back, tears welling in her eyes. "It's still you."

Ethan had already moved, his hand inside his suit jacket, ready to neutralize a threat. But Alistair held up a hand, stopping him. He stared at his daughter, the anger in his eyes slowly melting into weary resignation.

"Fine," he sighed. "Tell me what's going on."

"I found something in the tower... something strange..." Veronica began, then hesitated, glancing nervously at Ethan.

"You can speak freely," Alistair said, noticing her apprehension. "He's one of us."

Veronica took a deep breath and told him everything. The strange behavior of the maids, the parasitic fungus, the way it spread, and the terrifying truth we'd uncovered in the dressing room that afternoon.

"All of them, Father," her voice trembled. "Everyone in the tower except for me and Ava. They're all controlled by those... things. They look human, but they're just puppets."

A dead silence fell over the room. Alistair listened without expression, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the desk. Ethan stood by, his gaze shifting between Veronica and me.

After a long moment, Alistair finally spoke. His words sent a chill down my spine.

"Everything you've just told me," he said calmly, "I already know."