One Shall Fall... Midnight Murder

5 years ago

Rain lashed against the ornate windows of Yanghua Manor, each dropping a drumbeat against the silence inside.

Inside the library, firelight danced on the faces of Yang Yuxuan and his father, Lord Yang Xin. Shadows lurked at the edges of the room, stretched and distorted by the flames.

Lord Yang Xin cradled the crimson rose, its velvety petals seemingly pulsing in the flickering light.

A nervous tic flickered at his eye, betraying the fear that crackled between them. He passed the rose to his son, its weight heavy in his palm.

"It has been passed down the generations," Lord Yang Xin rasped, his voice dry and hoarse. "A legacy, some call it. A curse, others whisper."

The rose felt alien in Yuxuan hands, colder than expected, almost… alive. He thought of the stories, and whispers of misfortune that clung to the Yang. He shivered, despite the crackling fire.

"This morning," Lord Yang Xin continued, his gaze fixed on the fire, "I found this on my desk." He reached into his pocket and produced a small red envelope sealed with wax.

Yuxuan's hand trembled as he took the note from his father. His breath hitched when he saw the stark message scrawled across it: "One shall fall, and none be forgiven." he studied the note, the firelight casting a soft glow on his silver hair, his brows furrowed and his mind racing. Was it a twisted prank? A cruel prophecy made real by their fear? He looked at his father, the lines etched deeper on his face tonight than ever before, the fear simmering in his eyes.

"Maybe someone is trying to play a prank on us, you know how much people envy our family, and now a maniac out there is trying to play with our minds using our past tragedies" Yuxuan concluded trying to convince his father not to worry, even though he doubted himself.

Suddenly, a floorboard creaked upstairs, a whisper in the storm's roar. Yuxuan and his father exchanged a startled glance.

The shadows in the corners seemed to shift, taking on menacing shapes.

"Stay here," Lord Yang Xin muttered, his voice tight. He stood, a pistol glinting in his hand.

Before Yuxuan could protest, his father had melted into the shadows, leaving him alone with the rose and the note.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, each creak, each groan of the old house a hammer blow on Yang Yuxuan's nerves. He clutched the rose, its thorny stem digging into his palm, a cruel reminder of the family's legacy.

Then, a scream, sharp and chilling, sliced through the night. His heart leaped into his throat. It was his father, a panicked plea for help. Yang Yuxuan scrambled to his feet, the rose forgotten on the floor, fear driving him toward the sound.

He plunged into the darkness, the echoes of his father's scream guiding him. He stumbled through hallways, his lungs burning, his legs aching, and his vision blurring with tears and terror. Finally, he found his father slumped against a wall, the pistol lying useless beside him.

"Father.....!!!" Lord Yang Xin's eyes were wide with shock, his breath gasping, shallow. A dark stain blossomed on his chest, spreading like an inkblot. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing Yuxuan's cheek.

"The note…" he rasped, his voice a threadbare whisper. "Remember..."

But before he could finish, his hand fell limp, his eyes dimming forever. Yang Yuxuan knelt beside him sobbing holding onto his body, the echo of the final, chilling whisper ringing in his ears. 

The rose, forgotten on the library floor, felt like a weight in his memory, a grim symbol of the family's inescapable legacy.

He cradled his father's cold body, the storm outside mirroring the tempest within him. Grief and terror warred within him, leaving him raw and vulnerable.

The Fengling Curse was no longer a whisper. It was a reality, dripping crimson on the floor, etching itself onto his very soul.

And as the storm raged on, Yang Yuxuan knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was just the beginning. The darkness had only just begun to devour Yanghua Manor again, one bloodstained rose petal at a time.

End of flashback

***********************************************

It was evening when they both finally left the basement. As they ascended the stairs two at a time, Liang couldn't help but mutter under her breath, "Just what I needed – a haunted mansion with a side of family drama."

Lord Yang Yuxuan shot her a look, a mix of annoyance and amusement, "Haunted mansion? Detective, this is a prestigious ancestral home with a few quirks, not a setting for one of those melodramatic horror films."

They reached the top of the staircase to find Xia, a housemaid frantically pointing towards a portrait that now lay on the floor, its ornate frame shattered.

"What happened here?" demanded Liang, her detective instincts kicking into high gear.

Xia stammered, "I-I was merely dusting, and it fell on its own! I swear!"

Liang arched an eyebrow, unconvinced, but before she could press further, a mysterious wind swept through the corridor, extinguishing the candles.

"Who left the windows open?" Lord Yuxuan asked no one in particular.

"Great. Now we're in a haunted, horror film," Liang deadpanned, her gaze fixated on the darkness.

Lord Yang Yuxuan shot her a sidelong glance, lips twitching with a hint of a smile. "Detective, this is no time for jokes."

Liang shrugged, "Humor is my coping mechanism. Keeps the ghosts at bay, you know?"

But something didn't add up. "Lord Yang," she interjected, "you mentioned your father receiving the rose. But wasn't it your grandfather?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Lord Yang Yuxuan's face, followed by a deep frown. "No, Detective. My father inherited it from his own father, just as I did from him."

The implication hung heavy in the air. If the note appeared just before his father's death, then the curse, or whatever was behind it, had chosen a different generation to claim its first victim.

This wasn't just a family heirloom; it was a ticking time bomb.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted from upstairs. Shrill screams, the crash of furniture, and the frantic thump of running feet shattered the tense silence.

Liang and Lord Yang Yuxuan exchanged a panicked glance. The shadows, so thick and oppressive moments ago, now held a chilling promise of violence.

Without a word, both leaped to their feet and raced towards the sound. Armed with nothing but instinct and a steely resolve, Liang Meiying found herself thrust into the heart of the Yanghu family's secrets, and the bloodstained rose, once a symbol of beauty, now a macabre calling card for death.