Hotel Parc Beaux-Arts

Beneath the opulent chandeliers of Hotel Parc Beaux-Arts, shadows writhe in the corners, whispering secrets of the 18th century like a jilted lovers lament. Guests often speak of the soft rustle of silks and the faint echo of long-forgotten laughter, yet they shudder as silverware lifts unbidden from the table like desperate hands reaching for something lost. Outside, the air hangs thick with a sinister chill, birthing glimpses of apparitions gliding silently down the hallways, as if the very walls pulse with the torment of souls trapped between time and despair.