The ticking of the clock was still clearly audible, and the smell of stale alcohol pierced the nostrils.Three siblings, who hadn't met in a long time, sat there in silence, with a thousand questions they wanted to ask after their siblingly promise—but where should the story begin?
"I want to ask." Richard broke the silence, staring at his older brother."How did you come to the conclusion that she is one of THEM?"
"Marry Blackwell?"
"Yes, how could you be so sure?"
Reginald swallowed the last drop in his glass before starting to speak.
"I lived with Marry Blackwell long enough to know all of that. Believe me, her sweet smile and gentle appearance could deceive anyone—yes, anyone who doesn't know her well would be fooled and swallowed by the manipulations she often carried out."
He spun his glass and sank into his own thoughts, nostalgic for the shadow of the woman who once tormented him.
"However, I can't deny that she is also an attractive woman, with a unique personality. Whenever I was wrong or did something she didn't like—she would punish me, lash out, or order those two big men to hit me." He looked at his two siblings, who were still listening with their drinks in hand.
"Like an animal, of course, but if I fought or argued with the neighbor's children—she would ask me who won the duel. If I said I had won, she would kiss my forehead, hug me, even tell me how proud she was of me."
At this point, the two of them were truly confused; if earlier Reginald said Marry was cruel, why now did it sound like she cared for him deeply?
"Believe me, I am far more confused than you," he answered, sensing their confusion before they could ask.
"And what would happen if you lost? Or if you lied, saying you won when you actually lost?" Robert couldn't help but ask his brother.
"As I said before, she is an attractive and very competitive woman—so if I lost or lied about my winning, she would take a pistol or a dagger and order me to put my opponent to sleep."
When Reginald said "sleep," he lowered his head, his expression changing. It was clear this memory was a part he didn't want to remember—and could never forget, even if he wanted to.
Richard really wanted to ask him how many opponents he had put to "sleep", but seeing his brother's expression, he kept the question in his heart.
"Haaah," Reginald exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, eyes closed.
"She would love me and even comfort me if I did something I shouldn't—but she would beat me or lock me in a chicken coop if I did something that should have been right, even something that looked normal." Reginald spoke, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.
"Then, as a naive teenager who knew nothing about the world, I just went with the flow."
"The flow?"
"Yes, the flow. I just followed the stream of water she created and went along with it. I would avoid anything that caused me suffering or imprisonment—and do whatever made her happy so that I would be liked by her, and without realizing it, I was shaped by her." Reginald covered his face with his arm.
Everything fell silent, and once again, silence greeted the place.
No cries or explanations—just confessions, and silence became the answer to the prayers and confessions of a child asking for his soul to be saved.
Richard and Robert couldn't speak; they didn't even know what to answer or ask—because there was nothing that could heal the wounds of the man sitting in front of them.
It wasn't as simple as comforting someone with the words "It would be alright" or "hang in there." Now, their brother had been shattered from within and reshaped into something different by Marry, and both of them understood there was nothing they could do except be good listeners.
After a few minutes, accompanied by silence and the chirping of insects in the corner of the room, Reginald took a deep breath through his nose.
"Hff…""Haaah…"
He sat upright again, smiling at his two younger brothers, poured more of the drink into his glass, and drank it in one gulp.
"I still remember it as if it were yesterday. That day, she told me to get her car keys from the living room cabinet," he said, staring at the clear liquid in his hand, recalling every second of that day.
"As I was about to take the car keys, I saw one of the drawers open, and a piece of paper came out—I glimpsed that it had the name MAYERS on it."
"Mayers?"
"Yes, and perhaps because I took too long to grab the keys, Marry followed me inside." Reginald drank again, looking exhausted.
"What happened then?"
"She saw me peeking at the document, but I didn't dare take or read more of it. When she came toward me, I was truly afraid she would hurt me again."
He tapped the empty glass on the table; his brow furrowed, showing his confusion.
"But not only did she not hit me, she handed me the document and smiled widely at me—she told me to read it if I wanted."
"Why?"
"I don't know, but I felt she did it on purpose, to make me read it—I felt like a fly that accidentally landed on a spider's web."
Reginald looked at the corner of the ceiling, full of cobwebs, and paused there, motionless.
"What was written there? And what is it?"Curiosity overwhelmed Robert, breaking the silence from Reginald's reflection.
"It's a document titled 'Mayers,' and it contains detailed financial records, building prices, the names of the staff working there—even the names of the children."
He looked at his siblings one by one, then drank again.
"Just like your reactions now, that's how I looked reading it—ordinary, nothing special—until I read each staff and child's name one by one." He sighed deeply, exhausted by it all.
"I read and read, even repeatedly—but there wasn't a single name of ours there. And I know what you're thinking—you're thinking I must have missed it because there were so many names."
The two of them exchanged glances and nodded as if Reginald could read their minds.
"And what if I tell you… none of the names on that list were anyone I knew?"
They raised their eyebrows at Reginald.
"That's impossible, right?"
"I'm serious. And when I opened the last chapter of the document, it looked like some kind of organization," he said, squinting his eyes.
"Organization? What kind of organization?"
"I still don't know for sure. There were so many Mayers, maybe one to thousands, each managed or led by at least one person—they were called Harry if male, and Marry if female." He bowed his head calmly, tapping the table with his finger.
But his calmness completely contrasted with his two younger brothers, who were shocked, trembling, hair standing on end—the reality before them had been completely twisted by their own brother.
Because if what Reginald said was true, then weren't they seeds for something else?And if everything was so organized, weren't they destined for this from the start?If that night Mayers hadn't burned and they hadn't escaped—what would have awaited them behind that door?