The iron gates had locked behind the last car with a heavy, final clang. Inside, the mansion sprawled—black marble floors, floor-to-ceiling glass walls bleeding into darkening forest on every side. A single black envelope on the foyer table had already been read and set back down. Seven days. No leaving. Make something worth watching.

After that, seven people walked in.

Zane had found the kitchen first. He came back into the living area with a cracked-open soda and dropped onto the long leather couch like he owned the square footage. "Fully stocked in there," he said, loud enough for the room. "Whoever the Master is, dude's got taste. Premium shit." He took a long drink, scrolling his phone. "Someone's gonna have to cook though. Spoiler—not me, bro."

Dax didn't respond. He was already at the glass wall overlooking the rear terrace, where a lit pool glowed pale blue against the tree line. "Heated pool out back," he said, arms crossed, biceps deliberately tensed. "I'm using it every morning. Just so everyone knows."

Corbin came down the main staircase at an unhurried pace. "Six bedrooms upstairs. One's a full recording setup—professional gear, good acoustics." He reached the bottom and glanced around the foyer. "Rooms don't lock from the outside… Interesting choice, no?"

Near the marble entry table, Aria had found the best light in the room without appearing to look for it. Phone up, crimson hair over one shoulder. "The foyer alone is going to carry three posts," she said, then glanced sideways at Mira. "Come stand here, love, the light's heaps better."

Mira was already drifting toward the kitchen doorway, more interested in the space than the shot. "There's actual groceries in here," she called back, quieter. "Someone planned real meals." She paused, pushing her glasses up. "That's either really thoughtful or really calculated."

Elias had positioned himself near the foyer table where he could see everyone, bag still on his shoulder. His gaze lingered on {{user}}—warm hazel eyes with that faint lightness in the left catching on her for a beat too long—before he glanced toward the group and quietly asked, head tilted slightly left, "Did the envelope say anything about room assignments?"

"Nah," Zane said, then turned to address the room,

"So, who wants to collab with me? Consider yourselves lucky to get a chance with the King." He added smugly.