◉◉◉◉◉
Tap. Tap.
The crisp sound of high heels against tile echoed down the long corridor.
Cold sweat beaded at Quark's temple.
Rapidash walking beside him should have made him feel safe, but the fear growing inside him still made his body tremble.
Under lighting so dim it looked ready to flicker out at any mont, the tall receptionist kept moving forward, step by step, dragging her stiff, puppet like gait as if she were leading them toward sothing waiting in the dark.
No one spoke.
The air felt heavy, glued in place.
Only footsteps and uneven breathing filled the corridor.
Quark licked his dry lips.
This could not continue.
If they stayed trapped in this tightening silence, soone on the team would break before any real enemy even showed itself.
He was the leader. He had to do sothing.
His thoughts churned. He stared at the rigid figure ahead and chose a question that felt safe enough to ask.
"Miss. Has sothing happened in this town recently."
His trembling voice cut through the silence, suddenly loud in the corridor.
Nothing.
The receptionist did not respond.
As if she had not heard him at all, she simply kept walking, dragging those heavy steps forward.
Quark did not feel discouraged.
The mont he spoke, he felt the team's tension loosen, even if only slightly.
That was enough.
He was not asking for information. Not really.
He was trying to crack the pressure building inside them.
He exhaled quietly, steadying himself.
As long as the team did not collapse ntally, they could handle anything that ca, with him and Fran as professional Trainers and the rest of the group ard and ready.
With that thought, and wanting to push the atmosphere a little further away from panic, Quark spoke again.
"Miss. Are you feeling okay."
Everything about this place was wrong.
The pedestrians outside. The League receptionist in front of them.
Pale faces like frost. Movents stiff and delayed, like sothing pretending to be alive.
No direct hostility, but it still stirred the most primal kind of fear.
This ti, Quark finally asked what everyone was thinking.
He did not expect an answer.
But the mont his words landed, sothing changed.
The tall receptionist stopped.
In the dim light, her slender figure stood frad by the corridor behind her, a dark passage leading into an unknown depth.
Slowly, she turned.
The movent was wrong.
As if her head and body belonged to different things.
Her torso rotated first, stiff and asured, and only after it had turned halfway did her neck twist, bringing her face around like a finely made doll.
Quark halted, startled, his gaze lifting.
Then his blood ran cold.
The receptionist stared at him with eyes that looked empty, like dead water.
Dry strands of dull hair spilled across her cheeks.
Her refined features were swallowed by shadow, making her expression hard to read.
But one thing was unmistakable.
A smile was forming.
It rose on her pale face as though pulled by invisible strings, the skin at the corners of her mouth stacking upward.
Her thin lips parted, revealing teeth that looked too white in the gloom, sharp in a way that made Quark's mind insist on the word predator.
The smile twisted beyond anything that felt human.
Then, with a bright, cheerful tone that never changed, she spoke one word at a ti.
"Of course I'm fine. I feel. Great."
A thin, scraping laugh followed, small and sharp.
It crawled into everyone's chest like cold smoke.
Quark felt a chill climb his spine and slam into the back of his skull.
For a mont, his body locked up.
Thoughts slowed.
He stood there like a statue, unable to move.
Only when the high heels began tapping again did he jerk back to himself, motioning the team forward as they hurried to follow.
The fragile calm he had created was gone.
The corridor felt even heavier than before.
Still, they reached their destination soon after.
Quark urged everyone to move fast and load supplies imdiately.
He stayed close to Rapidash, watching the receptionist with a fear so deep he could taste it.
He wanted to leave this place and never return.
His nerves felt stretched to the breaking point.
The air itself seed saturated with sothing unseen, sothing that wanted to slip under his skin.
Cold sank into his chest.
Even with Rapidash's warmth beside him, not even a trace of that chill faded.
Fast. Faster.
As if everyone shared the sa instinct, the entire group worked with desperate speed.
Even Quark and Fran grabbed what they could and rushed it toward the exit.
And then, strangely.
Nothing happened.
No ambush.
No interruption.
No sudden violence.
They practically threw themselves into the vehicles, engines roaring back to life.
The convoy surged forward, tires spitting dust.
Quark collapsed into his seat like soone who had escaped drowning.
His back was soaked through with sweat.
He glanced into the rearview mirror.
The receptionist stood in the doorway, body stiff, watching them leave.
Her lifeless eyes stayed fixed on the convoy.
And on her pale face, that warped smile appeared again, carrying a aning Quark did not want to understand.
◉◉◉◉◉
~Support with 200 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
◉◉◉◉◉
For early access to advanced chapters on P-atreon:
P-atreon/iamxeno
(Just remove the - hyphen to access Patreon normally)
Thank you so much for your support and for reading!
User Comments
0 comments from readers