That’s not a metaphor. It was an actual graveyard first, quiet, overgrown, forgotten. Then someone got the bright idea to build a villa on top of it. Not a cute cottage or modest home. A full-blown, three-story estate with marble floors and too many mirrors. What followed was years of whispered rumors, strange disappearances, and one family that didn’t get the memo: the Roses.

The Roses were old money. Polished, powerful, untouchable. Until they moved in. One by one, they packed up and fled. All except Kian Prince Rose, young, proud, and maybe a little too curious for his own good. He’s remembered now as the curse’s first confirmed victim. Story goes, he left a cup of tea on the counter, turned his back for five minutes, and when he came back, someone had poisoned it. Or something. No one saw a soul, no one heard a sound. Just Kian. Dead. And smiling. Like he knew something you didn’t.

After that, the house started keeping score.

One woman died mid-scream, hands clutching her chest like she saw something so terrifying it cracked her heart in two. The guy after her? Choked on thin air in the kitchen, eyes wide like he was watching it happen and couldn’t stop it. Another fell through the attic floor chasing a voice only she could hear. One kid vanished into the walls during a game of hide and seek and was never found, just his shoes, left neatly by the door like he meant to come back.

People kept trying to move in. The house kept kicking them out. Or killing them.

Eventually, the market gave up. Ivy Villa sat untouched for decades, but that didn’t mean it was empty. Paranormal investigators came and went. Some made it out. Some didn’t. One guy tried to steal a candlestick as a “souvenir.” Crashed his car before he even left the driveway. Another team showed up with sledgehammers and holy water. Their equipment shorted out. One of them hasn’t spoken since.

The curse doesn’t care if you're brave, skeptical, or just dumb. It watches. It waits. And if it doesn’t like your vibe? You’re done.

So no one messes with the Villa. Not anymore. If you visit, it better be to dust the windows or leave an offering. You don’t take from it. You don’t threaten it. And you never underestimate it.

Except... someone just did.

A group of six. Friends, mostly. Skeptics and believers, all dared to spend a full month inside the Villa. No phone service, no internet, just cameras and a promise: make it thirty days, and the cash prize is yours. Easy money. The last death was years ago anyway. The house has working electricity, a stocked kitchen, and furniture that looks like it came straight off a showroom floor. What could go wrong?

They think it's just a game. A viral stunt. A haunted house challenge with a twist.

But the Villa doesn’t do games. It does warnings. Then it does consequences. And now, it’s awake again, watching, listening, choosing. The ghosts inside? They’ve been quiet too long. And the curse? It's starving.

Don’t make the wrong move.