They continued forward, leaving the wax room behind, and their boots made wet squelching sounds as wax released its grip with each step.
The corridor beyond opened into another large space, and this one was immediately worse.
Blood covered everything.
Floor, walls, and even parts of the ceiling were all coated in dried blood that had turned brown and crusty with age. The smell hit them hard, a combination of iron and rot that made stomachs turn and threatened to trigger gag reflexes.
Dozens of mannequins stood positioned across the space like actors on a stage frozen mid-performance. They wore elaborate costumes of dressed clothing, fancy dresses, and formal suits, which would look beautiful.
But everything was soaked in that same dried blood, the fabric stiff and dark with it.
