It's So Lonely In My Mansion Novels & Stories

What a good life. I’m currently lying in my bed while watching a movie. It’s been two days since I came here, and I’ve been all alone in this mansion. Does Mr. Wu’s young master really have no plans of coming back? Well, if that’s the case, I’ll take over his mansion then. It seems like he is incredibly wealthy, and he doesn’t want this mansion anymore. I chuckle at that thought. I feel like an evil witch claiming something I don’t own. I laughed once again; gosh, am I going crazy here?

Sighing, I lowered my head, feeling the weight of solitude settling upon me once again. Curious about my melancholy, Fabian questioned, "Why are you sad?" I mustered the courage to articulate my feelings. "Because I'll be left all alone here again. You have no idea how draining and frightening it can be at times," I confessed, my head still bowed in sorrow. In response, Fabian took a deep breath and returned to sit on the bed. Placing the first-aid box on the floor, he declared, "Okay then. I'll stay here with you. Let's talk."

I paid for the box of chocolates and walked out of the place, it was already almost night and I walked through the darkening and lonely streets that led to the mansion where we stayed. I found that it was the first time I was taking the walk here alone, I was always with either Kayden or Cassie, the beginning of my life might have been really lonely but as long as I just continue on my path, I think I already have some friends who are willing to do things for me. The cool evening breeze breezed through my hair and my face, doing the job of cooling my troubled mind. I stood in front of the mansion and stared up at it and sighed softly.

Emilia’s POV Loneliness has a sound. It is not silence not truly. Silence has the texture of calm, of a curtain gently drawn across a window. Loneliness is sharper. It creaks in empty halls, groans in the wood of doors that never open, and whispers in the corners where shadows gather to mock you. I hear it everywhere in this mansion. Every wall here breathes Damien’s name. Every servant who bows does it with a loyalty that clings to him like perfume.

“But I didn’t.” He stared at me for a moment, then turned. “Come on.” I followed him through the wide hallway, past rooms with high ceilings and huge windows. The mansion was beautiful, but it felt… lonely. No photos. No noise. Just cold elegance. “Nice place,” I said, trying to break the silence. He glanced at me. “Thanks.” “Do you live here alone?” He nodded once. “Always have.” No surprise there. He stopped by a room that looked like a library. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and a soft fire crackled in the corner.

We wouldn’t trade each other for anything. I was done with the call after some minutes and walked around the house to take a look since Stanley was asleep and I was wide awake. I noticed that there were many rooms but none of them were occupied by anyone. “How is he living alone in this huge mansion? Doesn’t he get bored all by himself?” I thought to myself as I took a personal tour until I got to a door that was locked. I tried pushing it several times, increasing my strength every time I retried but it was not working.

Antonio had ignited something in me, and I desperately wanted him to keep going. But the persistent knocks showed no sign of stopping. "Yvonne, I know you're in there! Please, come out. I can't survive without my TV," Larry called out again. His voice was growing louder, drawing the attention of other neighbors. Hearing that, I let out a long sigh. I turned back toward Antonio, only for him to lean in and press his lips to mine, his intentions clear. But the knocking outside went on and on. I knew Larry well enough—he was elderly, lived alone, and had no children. Watching old-fashioned cable TV was his sole source of entertainment. Without it, his days became unbearably dull.

As I lay there, staring up at the high ceiling, I felt a profound sense of isolation. The mansion, with all its grandeur and security, felt like a prison of sorts. I had tried my best to fit in, but it felt like every effort was overshadowed by my past and Mr. Nelson’s coldness. The loneliness was suffocating, and the realization that I was sleeping on the floor while Mr. Nelson enjoyed his luxurious bed only added to my sense of inadequacy.

My grip tightened around the phone as I repeated Evelyn's mother's message to him exactly, but Julian said in a provoking tone, "Sorry, but Evelyn's having dinner with me tonight. You can go back to the Brook Residence by yourself." That night, I had no choice but to go to the Brook Residence alone. What I didn't expect was that my foster sister Claire was there, too. She was sitting there chatting with Evelyn's mother, Dana. When Claire saw me, she raised a brow. "Why are you here alone? Where's Evelyn?" My fists tightened a little. I kept my voice as steady as I could. "Evelyn still has work at the office, so she can't make it." The next second, the door opened, and Evelyn walked in holdin

It was another long hallway on the other side, this time the sides were lit with torches, which was strange, given its abandoned state. The walls were dusty and covered with cobwebs, and the paintings were barely recognizable due to it being slashed in the middle with some sort of blade. As she continued to traverse the dark and dingy hallway, she stepped on a piece of paper, the crunching sound catching her attention. She picked it up and saw it was a journal entry from possibly one of the servants in the mansion based on the language used, but it was barely legible, but what she could make out of it made her heart jump. It read: The Master is heartbroken. She died too quickly. Since then -