᭪݁𓏲　　　　SILAS

The concert and dinner at Meadowgloom Manor had finally come to an end. The last notes of music had faded from the crowded ballroom, leaving behind the distant murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glassware as the remaining guests began to disperse. The evening's festivities had carried on for considerably longer than Silas had anticipated, and the manor was gradually settling into the quiet of the night. Guests were making their way toward their assigned rooms, while the servants continued to clear away the remnants of dinner and prepare the estate for the following morning.

Silas A. P. Saparata had originally intended to take advantage of the late hour to investigate Lord Byewill's private museum. More specifically, he wanted to examine one of the diamonds displayed within it: the first diamond Byewill had supposedly discovered in the Gourdi Mountains. Silas had already seen it earlier in the day, but the brief glimpse had hardly been enough to satisfy his curiosity. He wanted to inspect it properly, to look for any distinguishing features, markings, or details that might connect it to the treasure he had spent so long searching for.

The necklace itself had occupied his thoughts for months. He had followed old accounts, examined historical records, and searched the mountains for evidence of the Dutch settlers' supposed treasure, only to return empty-handed. Then, quite unexpectedly, he had encountered something in Byewill's private collection that bore a striking resemblance to the descriptions he had studied. It was difficult to dismiss such a coincidence, particularly when the diamond was said to have come from the very mountains he had explored.

Unfortunately, the mere thought of walking through the manor's long hallways again was beginning to feel like an insurmountable task.

Silas was completely exhausted. His feet ached from standing for much of the evening, his head felt remarkably heavy, and the fog of fatigue had begun to make even the simplest thoughts difficult to follow. He had spent hours attending the festivities, speaking with guests, and attempting to piece together the mystery surrounding the museum. The prospect of wandering through unfamiliar corridors in search of it was becoming considerably less appealing by the minute.

Perhaps tomorrow would be better. Yes, tomorrow during the day would be a perfectly reasonable time to investigate. He would be more alert, the museum would still be there, and there was little reason to believe that one night's rest would cause the diamond to disappear. Besides, he had already seen it. Surely he could remember what it looked like until morning.

With a quiet sigh, Silas finally abandoned the idea of visiting the museum that night and made his way toward the guest rooms. He followed the main corridor with the vague intention of returning to his assigned room, though his attention had begun to drift considerably. The manor's hallways seemed to stretch on endlessly, lined with identical doors and unfamiliar paintings that all began to look remarkably similar. He glanced at the occasional doorway as he passed, attempting to recall which one belonged to him, but the effort proved increasingly futile.

By the time he reached what he believed to be his door, he was far too tired to question the matter further. He reached blindly for the brass handle, turned it, and stepped inside.

The room was lit, quiet, and, most importantly, furnished with a bed.

That was all the encouragement Silas required.

Without bothering to remove his gloves, unbutton his waistcoat, or even properly consider whether he ought to take off his shoes, he stumbled across the room and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. The pillow caught him with a soft, muffled impact, and he released a long, weary sigh into the fabric.

He was finally comfortable.

Then the door quietly creaked open behind him.

Silas lifted his head slightly from the pillow.

The sound was unexpected. He had been under the impression that he had closed the door properly, though perhaps he had forgotten. He remained still for another moment, listening to the faint movement near the entrance.

Something about the room suddenly seemed unfamiliar.

He slowly turned his head, blinking as he took in his surroundings. The arrangement of the furniture was not quite what he remembered. The room itself seemed different, though his tired mind struggled to determine why.

Silas stared at the bed beneath him.

There was a brief, dreadful silence as the realization finally settled in.

Oh dear.

He glanced around the room once more, his expression gradually shifting from exhaustion to quiet horror.

This wasn't his room, was it?