Nolan looked over the group. A young guy with a buzz cut, built like a huge bear and wearing a leather jacket, sat still with his arms crossed over his chest, his masculine face turned to look at Nolan. Across from him sat a girl in casual wear—a luxurious-looking black designer slip dress with huge hoop earrings—her very pretty face framed by long, wavy black hair.
Next to the expensive-looking girl sat another girl wearing a black blazer over a white top, but with pants. She was also pretty, with long black hair pulled back in a single ponytail, and was looking at him now.
"Please sit down, sir. Then, introduce your name and your age," Beatrice instructed.
Nolan walked over and took a seat next to the big, buzz-cut guy who looked like a thug and kept staring at him unblinking.
"Your name?" the man asked.
"Oh... right... My name is Nolan Edwards, I'm seventeen. (And four months away from dying... No way I'm saying that, though)," Nolan replied.
"Hmm... My name is Zack Walter, eighteen. Nice to meet you, Nolan," Zack responded.
"I'm Selma Rodriguez, nineteen. You're cute," Selma, the girl in the expensive dress, cut in.
"Oh, really?" Nolan asked, smiling and rubbing the back of his head.
"My name is Ingrid Hayes, eighteen. Pleased to meet you," replied Ingrid, the woman next to Selma in the blazer set.
"Nice to meet all of you," Nolan said.
After the introductions, silence returned. Not a single person spoke, making the atmosphere extremely tense and heavy, compounded by the sound of the rain outside. Nolan kept looking around, taking in the luxurious, dimly lit dining room, not saying anything.
"Click." The dining room door opened again. Beatrice entered, escorting a handsome man in a very neat black suit with neatly combed-back blond hair. He looked like a man with high self-esteem. Beatrice asked the man to sit next to Nolan and introduce himself.
"Pleased to meet you. My name is Alvin Frieden, I'm twenty years old. I look forward to your cooperation this month," Alvin said.
"Alright. My name is Selma, I'm nineteen," Selma replied, who had been studying Alvin since he walked in, seemingly assessing his financial capability while also admiring his good looks.
Everyone repeated their names. Then, Zack looked at Selma, who was talking to Alvin and clearly flirting.
"Hey, wasn't one of the rules no falling in love?" Zack asked Selma curtly.
Selma's head snapped around to face Zack, who looked aloof and thuggish. Her expression was annoyed, as if Zack had interrupted her fun.
"Falling in love isn't allowed, but flirting is, right?" Selma shot back.
"Whatever. You deal with the consequences if anything happens," Zack replied.
"Ha! I don't need help from a thug like you," Selma retorted.
"Enough, you two! Why are you fighting? This isn't the time for bickering," Ingrid said, clearly irritated.
"Ingrid's right. Let's stop all this and quietly wait," Alvin said to the group.
Selma instantly went silent, folding her arms. She then glanced at Zack, who was smirking as if he had won. Nolan, who was already uncomfortable with this kind of social interaction, felt even more awkward and clumsy. "Click." Beatrice opened the door again. This time, she brought in a young girl wearing a school uniform and asked her to sit next to Selma.
The girl was pretty but thin, with long, straight, shiny blonde hair. When she sat down, she looked down, seeming shy.
"Um... My name is Helena Spencer. I'm sixteen. Nice to meet everyone," Helena whispered.
Once again, they all introduced themselves to Helena, and then everyone fell silent. "CRACKLE." Thunder roared outside, and a flash of lightning illuminated the room, making the atmosphere even more terrifying than before. "Click." Everyone looked toward the door again. Beatrice entered with a young man who was handsome but wore an arrogant expression. He immediately looked at Nolan and the others, one by one, and then smirked.
Without being asked, he pompously took a seat in the middle. "CRASH!" His dress shoe landed on the table as he propped his foot up. His demeanor was exactly like an arrogant aristocrat who looked down on everyone else, regardless of who they were. With a sneer, he opened his mouth.
"Hey, you all might as well go home. The inheritance is going to fall into my hands. Patrick D. Bergstein. Even though I'm only twenty, I'm already the leader of a large company located in..."
"CRACK." Nolan and the others instantly shot up, their faces shocked and disbelieving. The reason? Beatrice had just driven a knife into the top of Patrick's head. "CRSSSS." Fresh blood sprayed out, splattering the immediate area, including Beatrice, who still held the handle of the knife lodged in Patrick's skull. His face was frozen in a rigid expression, his mouth agape, and his eyes rolled upward.
"H-hey! What the hell?" Zack shouted, stunned.
"I apologize for the disturbance. Candidate Patrick violated the rules by stating his personal information and is therefore disqualified. Please wait a moment; we will clean this up," Beatrice said, her face completely flat and expressionless, even though it was smeared with blood.
"Snap." Beatrice clicked her fingers. A line of male and female servants immediately entered. They swiftly carried Patrick's body out and replaced the tablecloth, which had turned red from the spraying blood. Nolan, Zack, Alvin, Selma, Ingrid, and Helena were speechless, huddling together and staring at Beatrice, the servant who had just effortlessly murdered someone with a deadpan face.
They all instantly understood: They were isolated for a month in a mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere with no way out and no way to call for help. Furthermore, if they violated the established rules, the punishment was clear: death, immediately upon infraction. Nolan's and the others' faces turned ghostly pale.
"W-what the hell have I gotten myself into?" Nolan asked himself.
After finishing replacing the tablecloth and resetting the dinnerware, all the servants filed out of the room, leaving only Beatrice, who still had a flat, expressionless face despite having just killed a man.
"Please return to your respective seats," Beatrice said in a monotone voice and a blank expression.
With no other choice, Nolan and the others reluctantly sat back down in their chairs, staring at the table as if pleading for help from the newly changed cloth.
"Very well. I will now explain the purpose of the candidates having to stay in this mansion for a month and the rules we have put in place," Beatrice stated.
No one replied or answered Beatrice, but she immediately launched into an explanation of her master, covering his wealth, his investments, his assets and companies, right up to his illness and death. Beatrice then explained that her master had a secret grandchild who once lived in the mansion and only her master knew who that person was because the servants who attended to the grandchild had been silenced.
The purpose of calling the candidates and having them stay for thirty days was to trigger memories about the mansion and confirm who her master's grandchild was, so they could receive the inheritance.
"Why don't you just DNA test the six of us? We wouldn't have to waste time like this," Ingrid challenged.
"I apologize, but that is not possible. The reasons cannot be explained to the candidates," Beatrice replied sharply, staring at Ingrid with a terrifying, vacant gaze that immediately silenced her.
"What if the man you just killed, Patrick, was the heir?" Nolan asked.
"That is impossible, and I will not explain why, I apologize. Before my master died, he gave me two questions to present to the candidates," Beatrice answered.
"What are the questions?" Selma asked.
"Who is the master's grandchild, truly? And Who here is not human? These two questions have only one answer," Beatrice replied.
"Huh." Hearing the questions Beatrice posed, Nolan and the others immediately looked at each other with looks of intense suspicion.