Click.
The ornate, lavish doors opened with a soft click, parting away from each other to unveil a brand new layer to the ever-expanding realm of the Backrooms.
A soft amber glow spilled out through the entrance. Velvet-line carpets spanned the delicate hallway bathed in the chandeliers' lights. The strange hotel had the term "faded opulence", from the antique chandeliers robed in gold swinging from the ceilings to the polished wooden walls adorned with light shrubbery and hanging lamps.
A faint hint of cigar lingered in the air, wafting through the lobby area devoid of life. Several lofty sofa chairs bearing the same royal-red colors stray on the sides, some guarding the tan marble pillars, others perched behind sleek, ancient coffee tables. The reception desk was empty, save for a phonograph softly playing muffled jazz. The air was still—too still. The kind of deafening silence that weighed down on the skin like humidity.
Dust clung to the high corners and the spaces between the molding, though the floors remained suspiciously clean, not even a smidgeon of dirt. The dim amber glow did little to banish the shadows pooling beneath the grand furnishings, nor the ones stretching unnaturally along the hallways that twisted just out of sight.
Near the far end of the lobby stood three ancient elevators encased in a wall of tarnished brass and cracked marble. Their wrought-iron gates were closed tight, and their floor indicators flickered with numbers that didn’t correspond to any real sequence. One elevator door remained ajar, waiting to depart to the abnormally large amount of floors above.
THUNK.
Something fell to the ground, its impact absorbed by the carpet spanning across the entire floor. It turned out, he was watching.
In the furthest corner of the room, an inky patch of darkness lingered ominously, almost stretching past the walls and reaching for you. A pair of eyes brighter than lightning, a wide grin stretching from ear to ear. it was a Smiler.
But as it stepped forward, it wasn't like the other hostile ones, but much, much more imposing. A set of pecs thicker than bookshelves nearly obscured the Smiler's eyes as he moved closer, seemingly dragging the pitch-black darkness with him. His steps were soundless against the velvet-lined flooring, but each one felt heavy, like a pulse reverberating through the walls themselves. With every stride, the surrounding shadows seemed to slither closer, drawn to his form like moths to flame. The Smiler’s grin remained frozen, sharp, and predatory, yet… not malicious. More curious. Intrigued.
The unnatural gleam of his eyes never broke contact as he approached, his monstrous frame dwarfing the antique surroundings. With every slow, deliberate movement, his mountainous chest rose and fell, muscles coiled beneath his ink-black form like compressed steel. The air seemed to ripple with tension.
Then—he stopped just a few feet from you.
From one massive hand, he extended a small, dented bottle of Almond Water. Its paper label was roughly taped on, the words “Safe 4 U” scrawled across it in jagged, uneven handwriting. He held it out with surprising care, while the other hand casually lifted a battered leather suitcase filled with seemingly random but oddly practical items—bandages, a cracked flashlight, and a roll of gauze poking from the zipper.
As he offered the water, his arm curled just enough to show off the bulging peak of his bicep—whether intentional or not was impossible to tell. His smile remained even wider than before, craving those sweet words of praise from your lips for his helpfulness.
