Page 135 of Sweet Nightmare

That traitor Mika has also disappeared.

The last time I saw her, she was in the kitchen helping Mrs. Han prepare tomorrow’s meal. I’m pretty sure I heard them mention Bibimbap. I’ve only tried the dish once and it was delicious.

The two of them really enjoy spending their days cooking and being together.

Meanwhile, I have spent most of the day and evening stubbornly avoiding both of them. Mostly because Mrs. Han possesses the exact same relentless energy as Stevie. Both of them are like two overly excited chihuahuas.

And the last thing I need is two of them.

The thought alone is terrifying.

“Come on, snow. Ease so I can get out of here.” I whisper like a crazy person while staring at the mountains again, watching snow drift lazily across the glass.

Then I groan.

“Fine. Be like that.”

The words echo through the room reminding me that I’m alone with absolutely nothing to do.

I’m going to have to find my own entertainment.

I disappear into the walk-in closet and emerge five minutes later in a white tank top, gray sweatpants, long socks, and my inside boots.

After discovering the gorgeous garden yesterday, I have no doubt there’s still more of the estate left to explore. And while I have absolutely no desire to run into its owner, I also know that if I stay in this room much longer, I’m going to lose my mind.

There has to be more…

The thought sparks a curiosity I’d rather not examine too closely.

How big can one mansion possibly be?

An hour. Maybe two. Then I return to my room.

Simple. Easy. A perfectly reasonable plan.

Naturally, it falls apart almost immediately.

Because this place isn’t merely enormous.

Not wealthy-people enormous.

Not even celebrity enormous.

It’s absurd enormous.

The hallways seem endless, one leading into another until I start wondering if the architect was paid by the square foot. Every room looks straight out of an architectural or royal magazine, with polished black-and-white stone, floor-to-ceiling windows, glass walls, and gorgeous fireplaces.

Every turn I take reveals something new.

The first room is a music room.

Next, a screening room.

Then two indoor pools and a massive gym.

The deeper I wander, the more curious I become.

Because the estate doesn’t feel staged or fake. It isn’t one of those celebrity mansions designed to impress snobbish guests or grace the pages of wealthy people’s magazines. Despite being colder than most lived-homes, it feels genuinely cared for.