The Locks of the Grand Eclipton Part 3 by AnonymousHairLover

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Daniel’s world dissolved into darkness as William pressed the chemical-soaked cloth over his face in the isolated office compartment. His chestnut curls, once a source of pride, fell limp as his body slumped, his final glimpse the sharp outline of William’s back, framed by the doorway. William moved with practiced ease, his movements eerily calm as he lifted Daniel’s unconscious form, slinging him over his shoulder with the care one might give a cherished artifact. The hotel was silent, its corridors empty, as William carried Daniel toward the seventh floor, toward Room 717—the forbidden space that had haunted the staff’s whispers since their arrival.

The staircase to the seventh floor creaked under William’s measured steps, each one deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The private door to Room 717 stood at the end of a shadowed hallway, its heavy oak surface unadorned except for a brass keyhole that seemed to glint with malice. William produced a key from his pocket, its edges worn from frequent use, and unlocked the door with a soft click. The air beyond was stale, heavy with the scent of dust and something metallic, like old coins left too long in a drawer. He carried Daniel inside, closing the door behind them, sealing them in a world of his own making.

Inside Room 717, the atmosphere was suffocating. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, its amber glow casting long shadows across walls lined with shelves. Each shelf held glass jars, meticulously arranged, each containing coils of hair—blonde, raven, auburn, silver—each lock a trophy, gleaming like spun silk. The jars were labeled with dates and names, some faded, others fresh, a gallery of William’s obsession. In the center of the room stood a wooden chair, its arms worn smooth, flanked by a small table holding a pair of polished scissors and a leather-bound book. William laid Daniel in the chair, securing his wrists with soft but unyielding straps, his movements almost tender. He stepped back, his gray eyes glinting as he studied Daniel’s curls, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

Daniel stirred, his head throbbing as consciousness clawed its way back. The chemical fog lingered, blurring his thoughts, but the sight of the jars snapped him into focus. His heart pounded as he took in the shelves, the hair, the scissors glinting on the table. "What… what is this?" he croaked, his voice hoarse, his curls sticking to his sweat-dampened neck. William turned, his smile a thin crescent, his eyes alight with a fervor that made Daniel’s stomach churn.

"My collection," William said, his voice smooth as velvet but laced with something feral. "Each strand a story, a piece of beauty preserved forever. Yours, Daniel, will be a crown jewel." He picked up the scissors, the blades catching the light as he tested their edge with his thumb. "Your curls are exquisite. They deserve to be immortalized."

Daniel’s breath hitched, panic flooding his veins. He tugged at the straps, but they held firm, biting into his wrists. "No, please," he stammered, his usual confidence shattered. "You don’t have to do this. I… I can help you. I can find someone else, someone with even longer hair!" The words spilled out in a desperate rush, his mind racing for a way to stall, to survive. He thought of Zack—his floor-length, jet-black hair, hidden beneath that cap—but he bit back the name. Their friendship, fragile as it was, held him back. He wouldn’t betray Zack, not yet. "I swear, I know people in town. I can bring you someone with hair longer than mine. Just… don’t cut mine."

William paused, the scissors hovering inches from Daniel’s curls. His eyes narrowed, intrigued, the hunger in them sharpening. "Longer than yours?" he mused, his voice low, almost a purr. "That’s a bold promise, Daniel. Very well. I’ll give you a chance to prove it. Bring me this… someone, and your hair is spared. For now." He set the scissors down, but the threat lingered, heavy as the air in the room. "Fail me, and I’ll take more than your hair."

Daniel nodded frantically, his curls bouncing, his mind a whirlwind of fear and guilt. William untied him, his fingers brushing Daniel’s hair with a possessive familiarity that made Daniel’s skin crawl. "You have three days," William said, his voice cold. "Don’t disappoint me." He handed Daniel a key to Room 717, its weight heavy in Daniel’s trembling hand. "Bring them here. I’ll be waiting."

Daniel stumbled out of Room 717, the door locking behind him with a finality that echoed in his chest. The seventh-floor hallway was silent, the hotel’s shadows seeming to pulse with William’s menace. Daniel’s legs shook as he descended the staircase, his curls a heavy burden now, a target painted on his back. He needed a plan, and fast. Zack’s face flashed in his mind—those floor-length strands, hidden from the world. Daniel’s stomach twisted. He didn’t want to betray Zack, but the memory of those jars, those scissors, was too much. Survival demanded sacrifice.

Back in the staff lounge, Zack was finishing his shift at the concierge desk, his cap secure, his man bun a tightly guarded secret. He’d noticed Daniel’s absence, the office compartment empty when he’d passed by earlier. His unease had grown, fed by the hotel’s oppressive atmosphere and the rumors about William’s satchel. When Daniel appeared, pale and disheveled, Zack’s heart sank. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low, his hand instinctively touching his cap.

Daniel forced a smile, but it was brittle, his eyes darting nervously. "Yeah, just… overworked. William’s got me on a new project." He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the key in his pocket. "Actually, I need your help. William assigned me to clean Room 717 tomorrow. Said it’s a one-time thing, but I can’t do it right now due to the new project. Can you do it for me?"

Zack froze. Room 717 was forbidden, William’s rule absolute. "Clean it? He said no one’s allowed up there." His voice was sharp, suspicious. Daniel shrugged, his curls bouncing, his expression too casual. "Guess he changed his mind. He gave me the key and everything. Come on, man, you have to help me." Zack’s gut screamed warning, but Daniel’s pleading eyes—those same eyes that had teased him about his hair, that had shared late-night coffees—softened his resolve. "Fine," he said, reluctant. "Tomorrow night."

Daniel nodded, relief masking the guilt in his chest. "Thanks, Zack. You’re a lifesaver." He handed Zack the key, its cold weight settling like a stone in Zack’s palm. Daniel’s smile was strained, his curls a reminder of the bargain he’d made. He didn’t mention William’s threat, the jars, or the scissors. He couldn’t. Not yet.

The next day passed in a blur of tension. Zack went through his concierge duties, his mind on Room 717. The staff’s whispers about the locked door grew louder in his memory—tales of strange noises, of William’s late-night visits. His cap felt tighter, his hair a secret he guarded with every glance. Daniel, meanwhile, avoided him, throwing himself into event planning with a manic energy that didn’t reach his eyes. Zack noticed the change, the way Daniel’s hands shook when he thought no one was watching, but he didn’t press. Their friendship was a tightrope, and Zack wasn’t ready to fall.

That night, as the hotel settled into its eerie quiet, Zack made his way to the seventh floor. The key to Room 717 burned in his pocket, its weight a reminder of Daniel’s strange request. The staircase creaked under his boots, each step heavier than the last. The hallway was dim, the air thick with that metallic scent he couldn’t place. He reached the private door, its oak surface looming like a guillotine. His hand trembled as he inserted the key, the lock clicking with a sound that echoed like a heartbeat.

Unseen, Daniel followed, his curls tucked under a hood to avoid notice. He stayed in the shadows, his heart pounding with guilt and fear. He hadn’t told William about Zack’s hair, but he’d set the trap, luring his friend to the lion’s den. As Zack turned the key, the door creaked open, revealing the dim glow of Room 717. Daniel’s breath caught, his eyes fixed on Zack’s silhouette, the cap still hiding his secret. The trap was sprung, and Daniel could only watch, torn between survival and betrayal, as Zack stepped into the unknown.

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