Amidst the cobbled streets of Vilnius, Hotel Vilnia looms like a dark sentinel, its once-grand facade whispering secrets of the 16th century. Guests often find themselves ensnared in a tapestry of hushed murmurs and phantom footsteps that echo through the empty corridors, while a shadowy figure flits just beyond the edge of their vision, a fleeting reminder that the past is never truly gone. Yet, those who dare to linger too long often speak of an unsettling sensation-a chilling gaze upon their souls, as if the very walls conspire to unearth their darkest fears.

In the dimly lit corridors of Hotel Stikliai, the past lingers like a heavy fog, where laughter twists into a chilling echo, reverberating through empty rooms as if the walls themselves are trying to reclaim lost souls. Shadows dance just beyond the periphery of vision, ghostly figures flitting through the dark, their whispers a sinister serenade that promises to unravel the sanity of anyone brave enough to linger too long. Here, the rooms hold memories too restless to sleep, leaving guests to grapple with the unsettling notion that they are not merely staying the night - they are being watched.

In the shadowed embrace of Hotel Pacai, where the echoes of whispered secrets cling to the damp stone walls, guests often find themselves unmoored from reality-watching in terror as silverware shifts on its own and the bitter breath of cold drafts slithers through the air like a warning. At midnight, the flickering candlelight casts anguished forms in the corners, remnants of those who lingered too long in the grip of sorrow, their hollow eyes seeking something just out of reach. To stay here is to court the uneasy notion that someone, or something, might still call these haunted halls home, waiting for an unsuspecting visitor to join their somber company.