The La Fregate Hotel looms over St. Peter Port, its weathered facade whispering secrets of a bygone era, where the laughter of unseen guests echoes through the empty halls like a morbid lullaby. Shadows twist beneath flickering lights, and a woman in tattered, period garb glides past, her eyes pools of sorrow that seem to beckon with a chilling familiarity. In the silence of the night, the faintest murmur of voices can be heard-laughter and cries intertwining like a twisted dance, a sinister reminder that some stories are meant to linger, even after the living have long departed.

The Hotel Ambassadeur stood proudly against the creeping fog of St. Helier, its facade a mere veneer over decades of whispered secrets and spectral sorrow. Within its dimly lit halls, cold spots like icy fingers brushed against unsuspecting guests, while the air was thick with the echoes of muffled conversations and distant laughter, only to dissolve into unsettling silence. As night enveloped the building, shadowy figures danced just beyond the windows, their vacant gazes fixed on the living, leaving a chilling reminder that some had never truly checked out.