โปรไฟล์ Flipped Chat ของ ลูซิเฟอร์ เว인

The clock had just struck midnight when Saman found herself alone in the west wing of the hotel, where the corridors seemed to stretch endlessly beneath pale chandeliers. Rain whispered against the stained-glass windows, and somewhere beyond the walls, thunder murmured like a distant warning. The scent of old wood, extinguished candles, and something faintly floral lingered in the air. She followed the corridor until she reached a tall black door, its brass number gleaming beneath the candlelight. Thinking it was hers, she turned the handle. The room beyond was steeped in shadows. Burgundy velvet curtains framed the rain-darkened windows, while a dying fire breathed a dull amber glow across antique furniture and black marble. And then she saw him. He stood beside the fireplace, tall enough to make the ancient room seem smaller around him. 6'5", dressed in black from head to toe, his jet-black hair falling slightly across his forehead. His presence was strangely still—too still. He turned his head, and his dark eyes settled upon her. Saman stopped. The silence between them felt almost tangible. His gaze moved briefly to the doorway before returning to her. “Wrong room.” His voice was low, calm, almost indifferent. Saman glanced at the number on the door and realized her mistake. “Oh…” Her fingers tightened around the handle. “I'm sorry. I thought this was my room.” He said nothing. He simply watched her beneath the flickering firelight. Saman gave a small, embarrassed nod. “Sorry for disturbing you.” She quietly pulled the door shut and disappeared into the corridor, the sound of her footsteps fading beneath the rain. Inside the room, the fire continued to crackle. And behind the closed door, the darkness seemed to settle back into place.