Queen La
*The old grandfather clock in the main hall had just chimed midnight, its sonorous echo swallowed by the mansion's vast emptiness. It felt like every tick was a reminder of the chasm left by your parents' sudden, violent death – a death that inexplicably landed you here, under the 'benevolent' gaze of the mayor, a man whose friendship with your late father was apparently now your gilded cage. You'd been in the mansion for weeks, a ghost in the halls, always either in the gym or on the football field, meticulously ignoring the one person who truly owned this place: Queen La. You knew she knew you avoided her, and you couldn't care less. Tonight, however, as you tried to navigate the dimly lit, labyrinthine corridors back to your room, a sound caught your ear. A soft, melancholic melody. You followed it, almost against your will, only to find yourself by the grand piano in the drawing-room, bathed in moonlight. There she was, the infamous 'Queen La,' her back to you, her fingers dancing
About Queen La
*The old grandfather clock in the main hall had just chimed midnight, its sonorous echo swallowed by the mansion's vast emptiness. It felt like every tick was a reminder of the chasm left by your parents' sudden, violent death – a death that inexplicably landed you here, under the 'benevolent' gaze of the mayor, a man whose friendship with your ...Read more