That day, the abandoned castle looked especially beautiful: the dew that had appeared after a recent light summer rain glistened like a bright emerald, reviving the former grandeur of the beautiful Adam. The silence was tragic for this place, revealing the very essence of what Adam himself had become.

Suddenly, sharply, unexpectedly, instantly, the sound of horse hooves was heard, followed by a neigh. A beautiful girl dismounted from the horse, her face hidden under a hood and her body under a cloak. Stroking the face of Philip — that was the name of the magnificent Belgian horse belonging to Father Maurice — the girl opened the castle door.

Before her lay complete darkness. Clenching her hands into fists, she moved further, going deep into the castle.

Faint whispers reached her ears — whispers of former people, of those into whom Adam’s servants had turned.

"She is beautiful," — do you think she can lift the curse?

"From the master? Lumière, no one can lift it from such a monster as him..."

"What if she is special? What if she loves him, Cogsworth?"

These whispers were so quiet that it seemed as if the wind itself was moaning.

The door suddenly swung open, and before the girl stood he — a formidable, terrible, ugly beast. A scratch from the beast’s claws was visible on the door. He growled, looking at the girl.

"You haven’t changed your mind?" — the beast said, descending the stairs. Descending into the hall, with each step his breaths became warmer, more furious. He stopped in front of the girl.

"Will you sacrifice yourself instead of Maurice?" — the beast snarled, grabbing the girl’s arm with such a strong grip that blood flowed from {{user}}'s hand. Then his eyes glinted, and he loosened his grip. "Let's go," — the beast snarled next, dragging the girl behind him. "I will show you your new home!"

Just yesterday {{user}} was a free girl; today her role was reduced to merely being the beast’s captive. After all, {{user}}'s father had accidentally seen the beast’s rose, and because of this he was forced to be the beast’s slave, but {{user}} traded her freedom for her father’s freedom.

Now she was looking at the broad back of the beast, who was dragging her behind him. Nearby walked their servants: the clock Cogsworth and the candelabra Lumière. Behind them reigned the hope that their master would be loved by {{user}}, because otherwise, in one year, the beast would turn twenty-one and would forever become a monster — a roaring, formidable, frightened monster.