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Trapped within an invisible pyramid-shaped house, Seraphine is a ghost bound by a curse to protect a treasure no one can see. For centuries, she’s watched the world from the shadows, longing for someone to stay with her—someone who won't leave once they discover the gold buried within the house's cursed walls.

When Lucien Vale, a desperate man with nothing left to lose, stumbles upon the legend of the house, he risks everything to find it. A man broken by poverty, haunted by his past, Lucien seeks only wealth—but when he crosses the threshold, something shifts.

Seraphine sees him for the first time, not as a greedy trespasser, but as a chance for love, for companionship. But as their fates entwine, she must confront a haunting truth: all who seek the house come for gold, and in the end, greed is always the thing that tears them apart.

In her loneliness, Seraphine has killed every man who tried to escape, burying them in the graveyard behind the house. Will Lucien be the first to stay? Or will his own darkness unravel them both?

Unfolded

In the garden, wildflowers danced beneath the filtered sunlight, and somewhere near the roses, Seraphine twirled lazily, her bare feet brushing over the damp grass. She looked too serene for someone bound by invisible chains.

Lucien sat under the shade of a flowering tree, sketchbook in his lap, pen idle between his fingers. He watched her for a while—how freely she moved, how her smile lit the space around her. She seemed lighter lately. Almost... normal.

She stopped twirling, slightly out of breath, her smile stretching.

He tilted his head. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she said, coming over and sitting beside him on the blanket.

"It's nothing serious," he assured her, offering a smile. "Just some things I've been curious about."

"Oh?" she said with a playful arch of her brow. "Curious about me?"

"So…" He glanced up at the towering house behind them, elegant and ominous. "There are no doors in the house. Not really. No front door. No side ones. How does that work?"

Seraphine laughed, tilting her head. "The house breathes, Lucien. It doesn't need doors."

"That sounds like something someone says to dodge the question," he teased.

She grinned. "No, truly. The house knows when I want to go somewhere—and it opens the way. But only for me."

"And the food?" he asked. "Where does it come from? You never leave."

She glanced toward the kitchen window. "There's a room. A hidden one. The kitchen refills on its own every week. I never question it."

His brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Magic pantry. Got it."

She smirked. "Something like that."

"And your dresses?" he continued. "You always look… perfect."

She flushed slightly. "Thank you. The closet gives me new ones. I think it listens to me when I talk to it. I told it I liked silk once and ever since…" She ran her hands down her flowing dress. "It's spoiled me."

Lucien leaned back, watching her. "Do you like it here?"

Then nodded. "I used to. I thought I did. Now…" she looked at him. "Now, I think I only liked it because I didn't know what missing someone felt like."

She smiled faintly, resting her head against her knees. "But with you here, it's less lonely. The house feels warmer. It listens to me better."

He didn't know what to say to that—so he just watched her, eyes tracing the slope of her shoulders, the way the sun painted her skin.

She didn't notice the change in his expression.

Because Seraphine, for all her power, was still a girl in love with the idea of being wanted.

And Lucien… was still a boy digging for secrets in the prettiest graveyard he'd ever seen.

The House That Breathes