"Any questions?" Beatrice asked.
Nolan, Zack, Selma, Ingrid, Alvin, and Helena remained dead silent, neither answering nor asking anything. They were clearly still trying to process the absolute insanity they had just witnessed.
"Very well, I will take my leave now. Dinner will be prepared," Beatrice said, bowing her head.
With that, Beatrice left the room, closing the door and leaving the six people reeling and immediately suspicious of one another as their eyes darted nervously around the table. The atmosphere suddenly became deeply uncomfortable and rigid in the silence, intensified by the thunder and rain outside, making everything feel even more chilling.
A moment later, "Whistle." A whistle sounded outside the room. The glorious scent of incredibly rich food filled the space. Several servants entered, pushing food carts. They immediately presented a full-course meal, starting with an appetizer of thick yellow bisque and a slice of bread, and a main course of a massive, sizzling steak, fresh off the grill.
They also set down two large platters in the center filled with cuts of roasted meat you wouldn't find anywhere outside, plus a platter of smooth, perfect mashed potatoes. Everything on the table looked like a decadent feast reserved only for royalty or nobility. After the line of servants wheeled the carts out,
"Please enjoy the meal we have prepared. Excuse me," said Beatrice, who seemed to have cleaned up and changed her blood-splattered uniform in lightning-quick time, as she bowed.
"Clap." The door closed again. The six guests didn't move, just staring at the luxurious food in front of them, even though the delicious aroma was truly enticing. Nolan turned his head toward the chair where Patrick had been sitting just moments ago.
"Who the hell can eat in this situation?" Nolan cracked, breaking the heavy silence.
"Plus, you can still see red marks on the tablecloth, even though they changed it. (Ingrid looked over at the plates in front of her) Even if all this food looks amazing and expensive, I've got zero appetite," Ingrid added.
"But if we don't eat it, we might be breaking another rule. Come on, everyone, just eat," Alvin urged, picking up a knife and spoon.
"Y-yeah, I'll eat," Helena replied, grabbing her silverware after watching Alvin take his own.
"This is completely insane. Just tell us who the damn grandchild is and who isn't human. I don't want to be in this place a minute longer," Zack spat out, standing up.
"Sit down, Zack," Alvin commanded.
"Yeah, Alvin's right. We just had one casualty; don't make yourself another one," Selma added.
"Ugh." Zack sat back down hard, folding his arms across his chest.
The silence returned. Although Alvin and Helena held their utensils, they didn't move, just staring at the food in front of them. Then, "Clink," "Slurrrrp." Everyone immediately looked over to see Nolan calmly eating his soup. Nolan, feeling all eyes on him, looked back at them one by one.
"What?" Nolan asked.
"You can actually still eat, huh?" Zack asked from next to Nolan.
"Hmm... Alvin's right. Instead of ending up like Patrick, I'd rather just eat. Besides, I'm already starving," Nolan replied, trying to sound calm.
"Aren't you worried about being poisoned or something?" Zack pressed.
"Uhm... it's already down the hatch, and I'm fine," Nolan answered.
"Haaah, why did it have to turn into this? I thought I could make some money here. I really need that money," Selma quipped from across the table, stretching her arms above her head.
"Hoo... what for? Shopping? Partying? An exotic vacation?" Ingrid sneered, glancing at Selma beside her and folding her arms.
"Ha! Don't you dare ask. We're not supposed to talk about ourselves, are we? So mind your own business. One thing's for damn sure, everyone here is after the money, so don't act like you're some saint," Selma snapped back.
Hearing Selma's comment, Ingrid instantly shut up because what Selma said was absolutely right, regardless of the reason. She just turned her face away and tightened her arms across her chest.
"Hmm... Selma's right. I'm the same; my motive is definitely money," Alvin muttered.
"Ha! Don't even get me started on that. For once, I agree with the bitch," Zack growled.
"Ha! What did you just call me?" Selma yelled, standing up and glaring at Zack.
"Ugh... all of you shut up and eat!" Ingrid ordered.
"You started it!" Selma shouted.
"Sorry, my motive isn't just the money. I have another goal. (My goal is to live out the rest of my life which is only four months, by the way. If I get the money, great, that's for my parents, and if I get a bonus heart for a transplant, I'd be thankful... but the rules say I can't talk about it, right?)" Nolan said casually, cutting into his steak.
"Um... my motive isn't just money either... I have a reason for being here," Helena whispered, raising her hand timidly.
Everyone immediately turned to look at Helena, who looked shy and terrified. "Clink." Alvin picked up his utensils again, then looked at the others.
"Alright, let's just drop it. The food's getting cold; we should hurry up and eat," Alvin said, tasting his soup.
Finally, everyone quieted down again. Silence returned, broken only by the sound of the rain outside and the clinking of their silverware against the plates. After they finished eating, Beatrice returned with her crew and swiftly cleared the table, though they didn't bother to remove the blood stain that had seeped into the new tablecloth. Beatrice then led the six of them out of the dining room and up the curving staircase in the mansion lobby.
The six guests stared up at the large portrait in the center, which only added to the mysterious, spooky atmosphere of the hall. Once they reached the top, Beatrice escorted the women to the left side, and another servant led the men to the right. Upon entering his room, Nolan was awestruck by the size of the space, featuring a double bed in the center, a beautiful antique wardrobe, a writing desk next to the bed, and a door leading to a bathroom.
Nolan opened the bathroom door, finding a dedicated shower stall, an elegant toilet, and a bathtub full of warm water. After putting his bag of clothes in the wardrobe, Nolan jumped onto the bed and lay down, hands behind his head, staring up at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling right above him. He looked around his room again, then back up at the ceiling, and began to think.
"Hmm... now that I think about it... why the hell can't I remember anything when I was five to seven years old? Was I really at home with Mom and Dad? There aren't any photos from when I was born at the house, either, but Mom showed me some on her phone. I just remember I wasn't allowed to leave the house and was always home... And what kind of secret is my family keeping that I don't know about?" Nolan wondered to himself.
Then he tried to dig into his memory again, closing his eyes, but he still couldn't recall anything about himself when he was five to seven years old. After a while, while lost in thought, "Knock... knock... knock." The knock came at Nolan's door.
"Huh... who is it?" he asked.
He immediately sat up, slid off the bed, walked straight to the door, and opened it. Nolan's eyes went wide: Helena, already in her pajamas and carrying a pillow, was standing on the other side.
"Helena? What are you doing here?" Nolan asked.
"Um... well... the thing is... I'm really scared alone... Is it okay if I sleep in your room tonight?" Helena asked, looking up at Nolan with a pleading face.
"Ha! I-in my room?" Nolan asked, utterly shocked, clutching his chest.
Helena didn't answer, but nodded in reply. Nolan stuck his head out and looked up and down the hallway.
"Whoa, whoa, what the hell is going on? Why is she here? Isn't the right wing just for guys? Why isn't she in one of the other girls' rooms?" Nolan thought, even though he didn't have the heart to turn away the terrified girl standing in front of him.