The Hotel Plaza loomed over Santa Cruz like a forgotten tomb, its crumbling facade whispering secrets of the 16th century, while the air inside thickened with the weight of untold sorrows. Guests had long reported sightings of a woman in white, gliding silently through the shadowed corridors, her face a mask of anguish twisted by unresolved fate, and the faintest echo of her mournful sobs danced on the breeze, chilling the blood of those who dared to listen. But it was the inexplicable chill that settled into their bones at night, the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes, that left an indelible scar on their minds, a warning that within these walls, the past was not just remembered; it was

At Hotel Oberland, the air hangs heavy with a chill that seeps into the bones, as if the very walls are woven from the whispers of long-forgotten sorrows. Outside, the garden blooms in the moonlight, yet guests have stumbled upon a spectral figure hovering between the shadows, its mournful gaze piercing the veil of reality, while the night is punctuated by distant echoes-soft laughter melding with the rustle of leaves, leaving an unsettling reminder that some stories refuse to die quietly. Those who linger too long find that the echoes grow louder, and sleep becomes a precarious dance with the unknown, where every creak of wood and sigh of wind seems to beckon them closer to the depths of that restless spirit.

The Hotel Plaza loomed over Santa Cruz like a forgotten tomb, its crumbling facade whispering secrets of the 16th century, while the air inside thickened with the weight of untold sorrows. Guests had long reported sightings of a woman in white, gliding silently through the shadowed corridors, her face a mask of anguish twisted by unresolved fate, and the faintest echo of her mournful sobs danced on the breeze, chilling the blood of those who dared to listen. But it was the inexplicable chill that settled into their bones at night, the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes, that left an indelible scar on their minds, a warning that within these walls, the past was not just remembered; it was