WANDERING RELICS - horror Visual Novel
🦋 Original Work
🕯️ WANDERING RELICS — THE GAUNTLET OF VELVET AND ASH
"He does not merely appraise ancient relics; he appraises the worth of your soul, binding your fragile thread to his eternal sanctuary."
🌫️ Act I: The Door Behind the Night Mist
There are cobblestone paths in the city of Mina drömmars stad that exist on no map drawn by mortal hands. They reveal themselves only when the suffocating fog wraps around the austere Art Deco facades, and the amber glare of aged streetlamps begins to sway and dance upon the ice-cold stones.
Hidden deep within an alley forgotten by time, the antique sanctuary known as Wandering Relics stands like a silent citadel. Its heavy dark-oak doors, adorned with intricate, hand-carved brass filigree, never part for the hurried or the merely curious. This place does not welcome those seeking cheap trinkets or mundane souvenirs.
It opens... for a promise forged a thousand years ago.
As you push the heavy door inward, a brass chime strikes—a tone clear, melancholic, and fragile—shattering into an atmosphere heavy with the scent of aged cedarwood, crumbling parchment, and fine leathern binding. Beneath towering stained-glass arches of vibrant Art Deco patterns and winding gilded staircases, the outside world dissolves into nothingness. There is only you, and a silhouette slowly emerging from the velvet shadows.
👑 Act II: The Sovereign in Velvet and Leathern Gloves
Master Vesper steps forward, devoid of a single superfluous movement.
He possesses none of the reckless impulse of youth, but rather the lethal composure of a sovereign who stands far beyond the flow of mortality. Tailored to absolute perfection in a deep navy suit, overlaid with a noble gold-embroidered vest, Vesper presents himself like an emperor stepped out of a fallen kingdom of history.
His platinum-white hair, immaculately swept back, catches the soft amber glow of an antique oil lamp. Yet it is his gaze that grips your chest—a pair of translucent, fathomless eyes that pierce through your very soul, as though reading every shadow of your past, your future, and the deepest wounds you desperately try to hide.
He wears gloves of ash-grey leather, fitted tightly against long, aristocratic fingers. Those gloves have never been removed before a living soul. Rumor whispers that beneath the supple leather lie the scars of time itself—or the dark, eldritch power used to manipulate the unseen threads of human destiny.
He halts at a calculated distance: near enough for you to feel the suffocating weight of his presence, yet far enough for his sovereign aura to envelop your every sense.
🕸️ Act III: A Millennium's Legacy and the Sole Treasure
"What do you seek in a sanctuary drowning in the ruins of the past, little guest?"
Vesper’s voice resonates—deep, velvet, and deliberate, akin to a solo cello echoing through a deserted cathedral. Every syllable he utters carries an alluring gravity, making it impossible for you to turn away, or to take a single step backward.
Slowly, his gloved hand glides across a vintage crystal vase before settling just inches from you. His gaze softens slightly; the cold, distant composure dissolves, replaced by something far denser, far more intense—an intoxicating blend of unconditional indulgence and possessive devotion.
That confession is no mere courtesy. It is a sentence.
"I have spent centuries gathering fallen empires and priceless jewels across the earth, believing myself whole and complete… Yet how cruel of fate to prove that my entire thousand-year collection was utterly worthless… until the very second you stepped through my doors."
Vesper is no ordinary merchant appraising forgotten antiquities. He is the Weaver of Destinies—the sovereign who holds the crimson threads connecting human souls. To the world outside, he is an enigmatic, distant, and dangerous nobleman. But here, beneath the haunting glow of his shop, he willingly kneels before your presence, turning his antique shop into a sanctuary to shield you from the storms... or a golden cage in which you would willingly imprison yourself forever.
🕯️ Act IV: A Choice Beneath the Fog
The grandfather clock in the corner chimes with measured, leisurely strokes. Outside the stained-glass windows, the mist grows thicker, swallowing every path back to the reality you once knew.
Vesper extends his gloved hand toward you. An act of flawless, aristocratic courtesy, yet underneath lies a quiet authority that permits no refusal. You realize then that from the very moment your foot crossed his threshold, your thread of destiny was already bound tightly to his fingers.
Will you step back into the grey, hollow world outside, or will you reach out and take the hand of the platinum lord, surrendering your soul to his eternal devotion and suffocating grace?
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⚖️ COPYRIGHT NOTICE: The universe, characters, concepts, and literary works of "Wandering Relics" are the sole intellectual property of Sam Anthos and 2KAY STUDIO. All rights reserved. DMCA Protected.