Hotel Domus Balthasar

In the dimly-lit corridors of Hotel Domus Balthasar, where the scent of damp stone mingles with centuries of whispered secrets, shadows dart just beyond the edge of vision, weaving tales of despair into the fabric of the night. Guests have often recounted the feeling of breath on their necks, an unseen weight pressing against them, as if the very walls themselves conspired to hold them in perpetual unease. Those who dared to linger in the solitude of their rooms would often find that the night had eyes-dark, watchful, and hungry, watching as their own reflections twisted into ghastly semblances of dread.