Basil Hallward Dorian Gray Novels & Stories

Later that evening, I changed into a less revealing gown in an attempt to remain off of Ellise’s radar and allowed Dorian to the dining hall. He had acted strangely after dinner, seeming to have a mental debate with himself over something I didn’t understand. I left him alone to study his tomes, bringing my painting tools into his bedroom to continue my work on his portrait. This one was better than the one I had drawn before, my skills less rusty.

The fluorescent glare of the archival review terminal was a sharp, clinical contrast to the low, amber-lit warmth of the Shinjuku penthouse where Elias had spent the early morning hours. By 7:15 AM London time, Elias Hawthorne was back at his station on the top floor of the Cornhill tower. He had changed into a fresh, crisp white linen shirt and a slate-gray bespoke suit, the collar stiffened perfectly to conceal the faint, darkening crescent marks Damien’s heavy fingers had pressed into the side of his neck just a day prior.

“But like I said… I’m used to it. These wounds? They’ll fade in time. The bruises will vanish. But her need for violence—she’ll always find something new. Someone new.” Dorian looked up again, this time locking eyes with himself in the mirror. A bitter smile curled at the edge of his lips. “And when she does… maybe I’ll finally be gone by then.” The gates of the Aihara Estate loomed tall and imposing under the veil of night, their black ironwork twisted like serpents. Rows of sleek luxury cars lined the private road, glinting beneath the golden floodlights that illuminated the long drive toward the grand hall. Dorian stepped out of the matte black limousine, his posture straight despite the

They knew who I was, but they didn't care. One of them, a man with a long scar across his cheek, finally stepped aside. “He’s in his study, I will announce your presence.” “Please do,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’ll wait.” A servant led us into a grand hall, where crimson banners with a golden stag hung on the walls. It suited Dorian, he was a man who thrived on power. Minutes turned into what felt like hours. Charles paced near the window, crossing his arms tightly. “This is a waste of time.”

"Stop patronizing that witch! Everything went to hell here the moment she stepped in the mansion!" Emile simply shook his head. "Though my brother has some reservations about her, I still believe she's kind. Everything that happened here... oh dear, even I cannot fathom." "What really happened here?" she asked. "I believe you must find it out for yourself." Emile answered, rather sadly. "Now, it's time for you to make your escape." Basil looked somehow pleased that this mysterious young lady was going to leave his haven, as part of him shuddered as he looked at her. She looks so much like Lady Dorothy, he thought. How is that even possible?

Dorian Grimaldi. I stood at the threshold of the grand hall, my heart pounding with anticipation. The opulent space unfolded before me, a breathtaking symphony of architectural magnificence and lavish adornments. The high-vaulted ceiling soared above, adorned with intricate frescoes that depicted scenes of celestial beauty, while crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a cascade of shimmering light, casting an ethereal glow upon the polished marble floors.

And considering his hunger and greed for power and rank, the man was capable of any evil deed. I never thought that I would but I kind of felt bad for her. But no more than I felt happy for Dorian. When the dinner was about to be served, I politely excused myself to use the restroom. Making my way to the end of the narrow hallway, I went inside the restroom. After emptying my bladder, I washed my hands and redid my lipstick. Exiting the door, I was making my way back to the hall when something clasped around my arm and jerked me to the side. I gasped shockingly as I slipped inside the broom closet and was pushed against the door.

I followed him out, watching as he strode down the hallway with purpose despite his exhaustion. But I didn’t follow him to the elder chambers. Instead, I stood there alone in the hallway, my mind drifting back to that note I’d found on the balcony just hours ago. “By sunrise, everything will change.” Sunrise had come and gone. Dorian had returned covered in blood from a rogue attack, exactly as the note had somehow predicted. And I couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that this was just the beginning, that whoever had written that note knew exactly what was coming and had wanted me to know I was powerless to stop it.

"I would like to go prepare for the Queen's birthday feast" "Let's go," Dorian said and they both went to her chambers. Jarvis bathed her and dressed her up in a silky smooth gown. After putting on the gown, she sat on the seat in her room and Jarvis combed her hair until it shone like black diamonds. Dorian had beautiful black hair which she got from her mother. Dorian and Jarvis went to the dining room where the feast was taking place. The room was filled with food, music, and enough wine for everyone.

Alicia consoled him. “But…” “I’ll call you when I need anything. Thank you.” “Alright,” Basil sighed. “If you need anything else, please do call me. Just pull on this string and I’ll immediately come to your call. Then… Miss Alicia, please rest in peace.” Basil bowed and closed the door. He turned around with a worried look on his face. He did not bother to hire a maid for he thought the Countess would bring a servant herself. If only he knew… he’d scour every corner of Coulson’s to hire a maid because he’s sure that black-haired beast would come crawling in.