It's been ten days since I met that vampire… Sarah sighed inwardly as she walked toward her editor's office, She padded through the hallway, her sneakers nearly silent on the smooth floor.
Back then, I thought he was dangerous—I was scared like a stray cat. But now… I don't know. Actually… he's kind of cute. Oh no. Nope. That was just my heart talking. Ignore it—total glitch. My brain totally disagree. Nonsense."
She gave herself a soft slap on the cheek."Get a grip, Sarah. You've got more important things to deal with."
She smiled to herself before shaking off the thought. This wasn't the time to daydream about the —vampire jerk. She was here to submit her latest report.
"I didn't submit the piano footage," she thought, her fingers brushing the edge of the flash drive in her pocket. Even if he gave me permission… I just don't want to bring trouble to him. Not yet. After all, I promised him I'd keep his identity safe—I can't take that risk.
Clutching the folder tight, she stepped into the editor's cabin.
Delgado looked up, his thick glasses catching the overhead light and briefly hiding his eyes. His receding V-shaped hairline and deeply furrowed brows gave him a stern, almost eerie look —like a headmaster who could silence a room with just a glance. He sat stiffly behind a cluttered desk piled with papers, red pens, and a spotless mug that looked like it was polished every day. Most people whispered about his piercing stare and sharp commands, but Sarah knew better. Beneath the gruff surface was someone who cared—he just hid it behind deadlines and discipline.
He gave her a brief, approving nod. "Well done, Sarah. Continue at this pace, and that promotion will be within reach." He paused, the hint of a smile softening his features. "Perhaps next time—it's not far off."
Her smile faltered.
Maybe next time, huh? Figures.
She stood in front of his desk, trying to mask the mix of disappointment and hope bubbling inside her. But at the mention of the promotion still being possible, excitement sparked in her chest.
"Really? Are you serious?" she blurted, leaning forward instinctively. Both hands landed on the desk with more force than she meant.
The cluttered surface rattled, and Delgado's coffee mug teetered dangerously near the edge.
She gasped and steadied it quickly, her fingers curling around the handle just in time. "Sorry! I didn't mean to launch your coffee. My bad."
"Maintain professionalism during office hours," he said sharply.
"Yes, sir! Sorry about that!" she replied, saluting like a soldier.
He rolled his eyes. "Calm down, I'm not an army general."
Delgado took a sip of his coffee before glancing up. "Why are you standing there, Sarah? Sit."
"Oh—yeah," she said quickly, taking the seat across from him in the office.
She crossed her arms, her gaze briefly dropping before meeting his. "So… what's the plan for the Halloween special? Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn't find anything haunted in that place."
She hated coming back empty-handed, but her expression stayed neutral, giving nothing away.
Delgado didn't bother looking up from his mug. "You don't need to worry about that. You did what I asked for—recorded the mansion, collected the background info, took your notes. Good work."
She tilted her head, forcing a polite smile. "That's it?"
He finally looked at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sarah, did you really expect ghosts? Come on. That stuff's for kid books. There's no such thing. Just old buildings and older imaginations."
He leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of coffee. "Ghosts, vampires… they're just inventions of the human mind. A way to fill the emptiness that hangs around a lonely old mansion like that."
Her mouth parted in disbelief. "Wait… I thought— you were serious about all that?"
Delgado had a talent for assigning Sarah the most absurd stories—assignments no rational reporter would take seriously. But Sarah? She never refused. And the poor girl didn't even realize she approached every one of his impossible tasks like it was her ticket to a Pulitzer.
He allowed himself the smallest smirk. "You're thorough, I'll give you that—but still a little naïve and innocent" He shook his head, the tone more amused than harsh. "I only meant for you to put together a report on the so-called haunted house. All that talk about capturing something supernatural? That was a joke. I didn't think you'd actually take it seriously."
Innocent, huh? she thought, a flicker of embarrassment tightening her chest. Her blood boiling just beneath the surface.
She let out a quiet sigh, berating herself inwardly for falling for it. "I might've taken that a little too seriously."
Her face stayed composed, her expression neutral as she gave a small, polite nod.
Sarah is angry
"Ohh, don't be so down, Sarah."
He gave her an approving nod. "You've been doing great work, and it hasn't gone unnoticed. Starting next month, you'll see a bump in your salary— You've earned it."
Her smile faltered for half a second.
Sarah is Happy
"You're serious?" Her eyes widened, a smile breaking through the uncertainty on her face. "That's… very kind of you."
The change was instant—her posture straightened, her voice steadier. The weight she'd been carrying seemed to lift, just a little. Confidence flickered back into her expression like a light being switched on.
"But I've got to hand it to you—you did a damn fine job," he said, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "I asked for an investigation on the mansion, and you didn't just check the boxes. You dug deep. You gave me a thorough report—not just on the property, but on Vincent Ashcroft and every former resident tied to that place. That kind of initiative? It doesn't go unnoticed. I appreciate the work you put in, Sarah."
Sarah blinked, slightly startled by the praise. Compliments from Delgado were rare—precious, even. She quickly straightened the scattered papers in her lap.
"Thank you," she said, almost a whisper.
Delgado leaned forward, eyes sharp. "So. Tell me what you think about the mansion."
She took a breath, steadying herself. This was the part she had replayed in her head a dozen times on the way over.
"Ashcroft Mansion's been standing for about fifty years," she began. "Vincent Ashcroft had it built for his second son after he got married. A few months after moving in—the daughter-in-law became pregnant. Then… his son was killed Brutally. Gang-war."
Delgado didn't interrupt, didn't blink.
"After that, Vincent withdrew. Barely any media appearances. He stopped being the man everyone feared—at least publicly. Then, three months after the baby was born… everyone in that house mysteriously ended up dead."
He tilted his head. "And?"
Sarah hesitated for only a second. "I think Vincent was the one who killed them. His wife. His daughter-in-law. Maybe more. He had a record—cheating, abuse, disappearances tied to women who got too close or too loud. And after his son died… it's like he lost whatever was left of his conscience."
Delgado gave a small, grim nod.
"There's more," Sarah continued. "The autopsy. Vincent's heart wasn't in his body. Just… gone. No explanation. And his daughter-in-law, Miss malin—her whole body was burned, but her face had a minimal damage. And she was smiling. Peaceful. Almost like… like she'd accepted something. Relifed Or escaped something worse."
Delgado exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Smiling through fire," he muttered. "That's not something you see every day."
"No, sir."
The silence between them grew heavy, laced with unspoken thoughts neither wanted to voice yet.
Finally, Delgado leaned back in his chair, his tone more grounded.
"You've got sharp instincts, Sarah. When it comes to this kind of work, your mind's exactly what we need. Keep going.
Sarah nodded, heart pounding. She wasn't sure if it was fear, excitement, or both.
Outside
Outside, the wind whispered against the windows—like the mansion itself had heard them talking. In the distance, the wail of police sirens pierced the silence.
"There've been a lot of sirens lately," Sarah said, her voice low. "More than usual."
Her editor barely looked up. "Yeah, patrols have been more frequent lately."
He added, "More than fifty women have gone missing in just a week. Could be a kidnapping spree."
He sighed.
Sarah looked up. "Really?"
Delgado raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"
"I haven't been watching the news lately," she admitted.
"You work at a news agency" Delgado let out another sigh. "Whatever. Just… be careful. The city streets aren't safe anymore."
Delgado looked at her for a moment—too long, too still. "You live alone, right?"
A prickle ran down Sarah's neck. His voice was calm, but there was something off about it. The way he asked, the way his eyes didn't blink.
"Yeah…" she answered slowly, her fingers tightening around her bag strap.
For a breathless second, her mind raced. The missing women. The late nights. Delgado always staying late, always watching. Was it him?
Then he spoke again, softer this time. "Then be extra careful."
The tension in her chest loosened. It was just concern. Just Delgado being… scary, as usual. She forced a small smile and nodded.
"I'll be careful," Sarah added.
"Sir, if my assignments and work are all done… can I leave early today?" Sarah asked, trying to keep her voice steady
Delgado gave a slow nod. "Sure… you can leave early."
But then he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Just… strange, that's all. You're one of my best. Always stay late, even after your work is done."
Sarah quickly added, "Actually… Lisa's sick. I was planning to take the rest of the day off to visit her."
Delgado leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. "Ah, yes. I got her sick leave application a few days ago. Said she's submitting her reports from home."
He gave a faint, almost wistful smile. "Hard-working girl, that one. Even under the weather, she's more reliable than half the staff."
Then his eyes shifted to Sarah. "You should go see her. After all, she's the only one around here you bother to speak to."
Sarah forced a polite smile. "Yeah… she's a good friend."
As Sarah stepped out of the office and into the late afternoon light, the distant wail of police sirens drifted through the city air—faint but constant, like background noise no one noticed anymore.
She tightened her coat around herself and walked briskly toward the subway, every echo of the siren stirring something uneasy in her chest.
Fifty-three women. Gone in just over a week.
The number replayed in her mind like a warning. And even though she was on her way to see Lisa—someone familiar, someone safe—the fear didn't leave her. It clung to her like the cold wind brushing past her neck.
She couldn't shake the thought: What if one of them had also just been heading to a friend's house?