The Locks of Grand Eclipton Part 2 by AnonymousHairLover

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The Grand Eclipton Hotel seemed to breathe unease, its opulent halls cloaked in a silence that felt alive, watchful. For Zack Reed and Daniel Voss, the hotel was both a proving ground and a maze of secrets, each day tightening the knot of tension that bound them to its mysteries—and to their enigmatic manager, William Hargrove.
Zack moved through his concierge duties with mechanical precision, his jet-black, floor-length hair coiled tightly into a man bun beneath a plain black cap. Every morning, he checked the mirror obsessively, ensuring no strand escaped to betray his secret. His hair, a shimmering cascade that reached the floor when unbound, was a vow to his late mother, who had braided it with love and told him it was his strength. But in the Grand Eclipton, it felt like a liability. Zack’s goal was simple: blend in, excel, and avoid attention. The hotel’s guests appreciated his quiet efficiency, but his guarded demeanor drew curious glances from the staff. He preferred it that way—curiosity was better than discovery.
Daniel, by contrast, was a beacon of charisma. His waist-length chestnut curls bounced with every step, catching the light like polished copper. He wore them loose, tossing them dramatically during conversations, reveling in the gasps and compliments from guests. "Your hair’s a masterpiece," a woman had said at a recent gala, and Daniel had grinned, shaking his curls for effect. "Gotta give the people what they want," he’d replied, his voice warm with confidence. Zack, watching from the concierge desk, felt a pang of envy mixed with unease. Daniel’s flamboyance was a magnet for attention—and for William’s pale, unblinking eyes.
William Hargrove, the hotel manager, was a study in controlled menace. His silver hair was slicked back with surgical precision, his tailored suits accentuating his lean frame. But it was his eyes—gray and piercing, like fog over a frozen lake—that unsettled Zack most. William’s authority was absolute, his commands delivered with a velvet tone that masked something sharper. Over the past weeks, Zack had noticed William’s gaze lingering on Daniel, particularly on his curls—and it wasn’t admiration.
The hotel itself amplified the unease. Room 717, on the seventh floor, was a forbidden topic. During orientation, William had declared it off-limits, his voice dropping to a low growl: "The private door to Room 717 is locked for a reason. Do not approach it. Do not question it." The staff obeyed, but their whispers filled the gaps. "It must be where he keeps something secret." The private door to Room 717 loomed in Zack’s mind, a silent sentinel guarding William’s mysteries.
Zack and Daniel’s dynamic had evolved into a cautious friendship, forged in late-night talks over coffee in the staff lounge. They’d bonded over their shared ambition to succeed in hotel management, but their approaches couldn’t have been more different. Zack was the shadow, Daniel the spotlight. Daniel teased Zack about his secrecy, once tugging playfully at his cap. "Come on, let me see that mane," he’d said, grinning. Zack had swatted his hand away, his heart racing. "Not here," he’d muttered, and Daniel had backed off, sensing the weight behind Zack’s words. They knew each other’s secrets—Zack’s floor-length hair, Daniel’s waist-length curls—but Zack envied Daniel’s ease, his ability to wear his hair like armor.
William’s fixation on Daniel became impossible to ignore. During a staff meeting, he complimented Daniel’s curls with an intensity that made Zack’s skin crawl. "Your hair is remarkable, Daniel," William said, his fingers twitching as if itching to touch it. "It adds such… character to the hotel’s ambiance." Daniel beamed, oblivious to the undercurrent in William’s tone. Zack, seated beside him, noticed William’s gaze linger, his lips curling into a smile that was too sharp, too hungry. Zack’s cap felt tighter, his secret heavier.
The tension escalated when William called Daniel into his office one morning. Zack, at the concierge desk, watched as Daniel sauntered in, his curls bouncing. When Daniel emerged, he looked unsettled, his usual grin absent. "What happened?" Zack asked, keeping his voice low. Daniel shrugged, but his eyes were wary. "He wants me to start working in a separate office compartment. Says it’s for ‘special projects.’ Something about planning exclusive events." Zack’s gut twisted. "Alone?" he asked. Daniel nodded. "Yeah, some room off the main corridor. Sounds boring, but he was insistent." Zack wanted to warn him, to tell him about William’s stare—but Daniel’s confidence was a wall, and Zack’s words caught in his throat.
The "separate office compartment" was a small, windowless room tucked behind the main corridor, its door unmarked and heavy. William escorted Daniel there the next day, his hand resting lightly on Daniel’s shoulder, guiding him like a shepherd with a prized lamb. Zack watched from the concierge desk, his heart pounding. The room felt like a trap, its isolation a perfect stage for William’s intentions. Daniel, unaware, threw himself into the assignment, planning a series of high-profile events to elevate the hotel’s reputation. He worked late, his curls illuminated by the desk lamp, unaware of William’s frequent visits to "check on progress."
Zack’s paranoia grew. He began noticing William’s absences from the hotel at night, always returning with that bulging satchel. One evening, he saw William late at night in front of Room 717 entering, holding a lock of dark hair. Zack ducked behind the desk, his cap a flimsy shield. He wanted to tell Daniel, to drag him away from that office, but their friendship was still fragile, and Daniel’s dismissal of the hotel’s strangeness made Zack hesitate. "You’re too jumpy," Daniel had said once, laughing. "This place is creepy, sure, but William’s just a weird old guy. Harmless."
The inciting incident came on a rainy evening, three weeks into their tenure. Daniel was deep in his assignment, drafting proposals in the office compartment, his curls spilling over the back of his chair. William had been particularly attentive that day, stopping by multiple times with vague suggestions about "elevating the guest experience." Zack, working late at the concierge desk, felt a growing dread. The hotel was quiet, the guests retired, the chandeliers dimmed. He glanced at the clock: 11:47 p.m. Daniel was still in the office, alone.
Zack considered checking on him but hesitated. His cap was secure, his hair hidden, but every step toward that corridor felt like stepping into a trap. Instead, he busied himself with paperwork, trying to ignore the unease gnawing at him. Meanwhile, in the office compartment, Daniel typed furiously, his curls swaying as he leaned over his notes. The door creaked open, and William stepped inside, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. "Still working, Daniel?" he asked, his voice smooth as oil.
Daniel looked up, smiling. "Yeah, almost done with the gala proposal. You want a look?" William closed the door behind him, the click echoing in the small room. "In a moment," he said, stepping closer. His hand slipped into his pocket, and Daniel didn’t notice the glint of something metallic—a small vial, its contents clear and unassuming. "You’ve been a great asset," William continued, his eyes fixed on Daniel’s curls. "Your hair, especially. It’s… extraordinary."
Daniel laughed, tossing his curls. "Thanks, boss. Gotta keep the brand strong, right?" William’s smile was a blade. He moved behind Daniel, his movements deliberate, and Daniel, engrossed in his work, didn’t see the vial uncorked, didn’t smell the faint chemical tang as William poured its contents onto a cloth. The air grew heavy, the room’s silence oppressive. William leaned closer, his shadow swallowing the light.
"You’ve done well," William murmured, his voice a lullaby laced with menace. "But I need something from you. Something… precious."
Before Daniel could turn, William pressed a cloth over his mouth and nose, his grip firm yet eerily gentle. Daniel’s eyes widened, his hands clawing at the air, but the chemical was swift—its fumes pulling him under. His curls fell limp as his body slumped, vision blurring. The last thing he saw was William dragging him away before everything went dark.

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