The story opens on a stormy night in the countryside, rain hammering down like it wants to drown the world. Emma, a 28-year-old investigative journalist with long dark hair, sharp green eyes, and a body that turns heads even when she’s trying to look professional, drives up the winding road to Blackwood Mansion. She’s here chasing rumors: beautiful women who visited this place and then vanished without a trace. Everyone points to the owner—Victor Black.

She parks, steps out in a tight black dress that’s already clinging wet to her curves—her full boobs outlined perfectly under the thin fabric, nipples faintly visible from the cold. Her heels click on the stone path as she approaches the towering gothic doors. When they creak open, a gaunt butler with lifeless eyes lets her in without a word.