When the Clock Struck Twelve
The first night of their marriage wasn't filled with laughter, music, or whispered promises.
It was filled with silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that made every heartbeat sound too loud.
The bedroom was enormous, decorated with fresh white roses and golden candles that had almost burned to the end. Outside, rain tapped gently against the tall glass windows while the old clock tower overlooking Blackmore Estate echoed through the night.
Dong...
One.
Dong...
Two.
She stood near the balcony, still wearing her wedding dress. The heavy veil rested on the floor behind her, untouched.
Across the room, her husband loosened the collar of his black suit without looking at her.
Neither of them had spoken since the ceremony.
Not because they were shy.
Because there was nothing to say.
Their marriage had never been about love.
It had been arranged in a room full of signatures, lawyers, and business agreements. Their families had celebrated it as the beginning of peace between two powerful dynasties.
To them, it felt like the beginning of a prison sentence.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"You should get some rest."
His voice was calm, almost distant.
She turned to face him.
"Do you always tell strangers what to do?"
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Tonight, we're more than strangers."
She folded her arms.
"Are we?"
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The rain grew heavier outside.
Then his expression changed.
The calm disappeared.
"If we're going to survive this marriage," he said quietly, "there's one thing you need to remember."
She waited.
"No matter what anyone tells you about me..."
His eyes met hers for the first time that night.
"Ask me before you believe them."
She stared at him.
The sentence was too specific.
Too rehearsed.
As if he already knew rumors were coming.
"Should I be worried?" she asked.
Instead of answering, he walked toward the window.
"You will be."
Those three words settled over the room like cold mist.
Before she could ask another question, a loud crash echoed somewhere in the hallway.
Both of them froze.
It wasn't thunder.
It was glass.
Someone had broken something.
Footsteps followed.
Fast.
Hurried.
Then...
Silence.
He walked to the bedroom door and opened it just enough to look outside.
The corridor was empty.
Only shattered glass sparkled beneath the chandelier.
Nothing else.
He closed the door again and locked it.
This time, she noticed something she hadn't before.
His hands were shaking.
Just slightly.
"You expected that," she whispered.
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he looked toward the antique clock hanging above the fireplace.
Its hands pointed to 12:17.
"They're running out of time," he murmured.
"Who?"
No answer.
Only silence.
Then, from somewhere deep inside the mansion...
A woman screamed.
The sound echoed through every hallway.
She instinctively stepped backward.
"What was that?"
His face turned pale.
"We're too late."
He rushed toward the door.
Without thinking, she followed.
Neither of them knew exactly what waited beyond the hallway.
But by sunrise...
Someone in Blackmore Estate would be dead.
And the marriage that had begun only hours earlier...
Would become the center of a mystery that neither of them had chosen—but both of them would have to survive.
