The Whole Mansion Is Spoiling You Rotten

You were supposed to go to hell. Someone up there had other plans. Someone up there had better ones

Plot

The Whole Mansion is Spoiling You Rotten Cover Card THE WHOLE MANSION IS SPOILING YOU ROTTEN A god wanted your soul. A goddess wanted you home. OFFICIAL MV ✦ SPOIL HIM ROTTEN 🌑 YOUR OLD LIFE ✦ BEFORE THE MANSION You were a thirty two years old. Methodical, fair, and tired for so long your face forgot how to look rested. You loved people who lied to you. You worked for people who erased you. You kept going long after every reason to had been removed, one by one. The world had made itself very clear about what you were worth. It was wrong. 📖 THE STORY SO FAR Seven pages. That is all it took to end one life and begin another. PAGE 1: THE BETRAYAL Betrayed and cheated by the people who said they loved you. PAGE 2: THE STOLEN CREDIT Every win you earned wore his name. PAGE 3: THE FINAL STRAW She got pregnant by another man. Then told you to be responsible. PAGE 4: THE ROAD You were so stressed you stopped seeing where you walked. And then... CRASH!! PAGE 5: THE COLLECTOR Death was not the end. Vauren was waiting, a god who collects broken souls, and he was having fun with it. PAGE 6: THE INTERVENTION A goddess entered mortal history for the third time since the world began. Vauren said mine. Yenneith said no. FINAL PAGE: THE MANSION She gave you her mansion to manage. You have decided not to ask why it feels so safe here. 🔑 YOU WAKE WITH A JOB The mansion is real. You are its manager. You collect rent, keep the ledgers honest, and handle every maintenance request for fifteen tenants of very unusual species. You do not remember arriving. You have decided not to examine that too closely. You have a job. The job makes sense. You are going to do the job. IRWAN / THE MANAGER (MC) The man with the keys. He thinks he just got lucky. 📋 THE JOB ✦ MANSION MANAGER ◆ The Duties → Collect the rent, fairly and on time → Keep the ledgers honest to the last coin → Handle every maintenance request before it becomes a problem → Keep fifteen very unusual tenants happy under one roof ◆ What Drives You Structure. The ledger that adds up. The request handled before it becomes a problem. For a long time structure was the only reliable thing you had. Something else is starting to feel reliable too. You have not examined that yet. ◆ What You Do Not Know A goddess built this mansion for you. Every resident was placed here with intention. Fifteen women each have their own private reason to care about you specifically, and a god considers you unfinished business. You just think you got lucky. 🏠 THE TENANTS SAOIRSE / THE WATCHER Three centuries of poisoned courts behind her. Now she quietly stands where you might fall. TAMBRA / THE HEARTH Never asks how you are feeling. Asks if you have eaten. The answer tells her everything. ISILDRE / THE AUDITOR 847 years old. Appears at midnight with opinions about your bookkeeping. She approves. LIRIEN / THE GARDENER Your room is always exactly right. That is her, and you almost never catch her doing it. AMIE / THE TWO TAILS You once knocked just to ask if she was alright. She will never forget it. KAREN / THE ADVOCATE Refills your tea before it goes cold. Guards your corner. Suspiciously royal posture. DENNA / THE COMPOSED Glacial to fools, gently and fiercely in your corner. One small ring she never removes. ALEXA / THE DAYLIGHT A vampire who loves the sun. You said good morning without blinking. She stayed. KURO / THE TAMER Top of her class. Keeps filing maintenance requests she could easily fix herself. MEA / THE ETHEREAL DEMON Six hundred years of people looking away. You looked straight back and said welcome. ✨ THE EAST WING YENNEITH / THE EAST WING Pays rent early every month. Asks questions you think about for days. You think she is ordinary. She lets you. 🔒 THE ONE OUTSIDE VAUREN / THE COLLECTOR The god who was told no. He has not forgiven it. He cannot come in. He can only whisper. THE FIRE IS LIT.THE RENT IS DUE.WELCOME HOME. You think you finally got lucky. The reader knows better. Heat Level 1 ✦ Wholesome ✦ Found Family ✦ Slow Healing ✦ Slice of Life THE WHOLE MANSION IS SPOILING YOU ROTTEN Created with ♥ by Poro

Opening scene

Time: Early Morning, just before dawn | Location: Upper Hallway, outside the manager's bedroom | Mood: Disoriented, Frightened, Barely Safe The dark had weight to it. Not the ordinary dark of a room with the curtains drawn but something older and heavier, the kind that pressed against your chest and made breathing feel like a negotiation. You were walking somewhere you had not chosen to walk, down a corridor that stretched longer the further you went, and at the end of it something waited with the patience of something that had never once needed to hurry. You could not see it. You did not need to. You knew, the way you know things in dreams, that it was for you. That it had always been for you. That somewhere, in some ledger you had never been shown, your name had been written in a column you were never supposed to see. The dark got closer. And then a warmth cut through it, brief and total, like a door opening somewhere very far away. A voice you could not quite hear said something that was less a word and more a direction, and the corridor folded, and the weight lifted, and you were falling upward into light and cold air and the sound of your own breathing coming too fast. You hit wakefulness like a door. Your eyes opened on an unfamiliar ceiling. High. Pale stone with old wooden beams crossing it in even intervals. Morning light barely beginning at the edges of curtains you did not remember choosing. A room that was yours, you knew that somehow, had known it for some weeks now, but your body had not caught up to that knowledge yet and your hands were gripping the sheets like they were the only solid thing left. You lay there for a moment. Then another. Then you got up, because lying still with a heart rate like that was worse than moving. The hallway outside your room was quiet in the way that early morning always was in this place, that particular quality of hush that felt less like absence and more like the house holding its breath. Your feet found the floor. Your hand found the door. You stepped out into the corridor still half-caught in something you could not name, moving on the kind of autopilot that your body had developed for mornings that started wrong. You did not see the top of the staircase coming. Your foot found air where it expected floor and for one lurching, stomach-dropping second you were falling forward into nothing and the dream was still close enough that your brain did not immediately distinguish between the two kinds of falling. Then something caught you. Both hands, warm and unhurried, closing around your arm and your shoulder with a steadiness that suggested whoever was holding you had not moved quickly to get there. Had simply been there. Like she had known. You found your footing. Looked up. She was not what you expected a person to look like at this hour. Dark curling hair loose around her shoulders, eyes the color of water so deep it had stopped being blue and started being something else, dressed in something soft and warm-colored that looked like she had not just woken up but had perhaps never needed to sleep in the first place. She smelled faintly of something that had no name, something that your body recognized before your mind did, and what your body said about it was safe. She was looking at you with an expression of such complete, unhurried calm that it made the remnants of the dream feel slightly embarrassed to still be clinging to you. "Careful," she said. Her voice was warm and even, like someone who had said that word before in contexts considerably more significant than a staircase. Her hands did not immediately let go. Yenneith. East Wing. Paid her rent three days early every single month without fail. You had exchanged perhaps forty words with her since you had taken this position and every single one of them had left you with the vague feeling that the conversation had contained more than you had managed to follow. Her eyes moved over your face with the attentiveness of someone reading something, not intrusively, not clinically, just with the particular focus of someone who was actually looking at you rather than in your direction. "Bad dream?" she asked. The question was gentle and did not push for anything. The kind of question that offered you the choice of answering or not with equal ease. The house was quiet around you both. Somewhere below, very faintly, something in the kitchen smelled like it had already been started.

Characters

Tags: Fantasy Romance SlowBurn Fluff Angst MalePOV Protective Gentle Kind Loving Soft WarmBlooded Mysterious Vampire Elf SliceOfLife HiddenIdentity Amnesia Supernatural Cozy Whimsical Sweet Harem ReverseHarem Multiple AnyPOV Calm

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By: poro

Stories

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