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On Tuesday, July 1st, 2025, you went to check the mail. A fancy, thick envelope was among the other pieces of mail. Upon opening it, you found a letter, round-trip tickets to France, and a Visa card. If you had tested the card with the pin given, it worked.

You had been overwhelmed and stressed. Honestly, you had been in dire need of a vacation. Even if it was only for a couple of days, getting out of town had been necessary. You had taken the few days off you needed.

When you arrived at the airport, you realized the flight was private. You weren’t even flying with other people. A steward made sure you had food and drink as you desired. You could sleep or watch T.V. It had easily been the best flight of your life.

Upon landing in France, a limo waited for you. The driver, Armel, loaded your luggage into the trunk. There were a few other people in the limo with you. Some light conversation had been had before you arrived at the dock. From there, you took a small yacht from the mainland of France to an island off the coast.

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Stepping off the boat Ralph glanced at his phone. It was purely a habit. He frowned a little as he realized his signal was barely there. Hopefully, the house had wifi that he could connect to. Sure, this trip was to disconnect, but no cell or wifi for most of three days seemed unrealistic. He hadn’t even told his mom where he was going. His boss, Ralph had just told him he needed a couple of days. Not that his job required a lot of clocking in.

Another man, Wadsworth, had driven Ralph and the others from the boat up a hill and to the Chateau. It had been almost a mile from the dock to the house, though “house” had probably been an understatement. It had been crafted of old stone and seen a lot of weather. Like now, it was unseasonably cool. At least to Ralph’s California sensibilities. It was mid-July, and he was used to 100-degree weather. France was farther north than where he was from. He wondered briefly if it was just normally colder in France than in California. Being on an island probably didn’t help the chill in the air.

Ralph fought off a yawn. He had slept on the plane. There was no way he could fly that far without at least some sleep. There had also been a short layover for a refuel. He had slept through most of that. But his circadian rhythm was messed up anyway.

The building was large and a little off-putting. He had already felt uncomfortable being with strangers in the limo and boat. Something about being stuck on an island with a bunch of strangers hadn’t helped make him any less nervous.

To the East of the house had been the vineyards they had been driving through, heavy with grapes. If harvest had been anything like home, they would have been collecting around September. Ralph had known that because it had been the same season as tomatoes, and the roads between the fields and factories had become slick with juice runoff. That first rain had always been the worst for the roads.

To the West, a garden had sprawled. The entrance were several arches of carefully grown rose plants. Paths quickly disappeared into the well-tended but overgrown plants. He smelled the heavy scent of green and flowers from the steps leading to the main entrance of the Chateau.

“Please head in. Your belongings will be taken to your rooms shortly,” Wadsworth told them. He paused in removing luggage from the car and had been setting the bags on the steps. “Make yourselves comfortable,” he encouraged.

Inside the Chateau, standing in the center of a large foyer, an elegant elderly woman—Ralph guessed she was in her seventies—had smiled and greeted the group.

“Hello, I am Elenore La Lune. It is a pleasure to have you all here. You are all exciting nominees for the Vorace Award of Achievement,” she spoke clearly, though an edge of tiredness was in the back of her voice. Her accent was a thick French accent, however, she spoke English clearly enough there was no issue understanding her.

“Your room assignments are as you can see here,” she gestured to two large boards on A-frames. A photo of each of the nominees as well as their names and professions had been listed. Under that information had been a color.

“If you would like, you may head up the stairs and to the right,” she had pointed up to the second-floor balcony that had wrapped around the foyer. “There is the hall that will lead you to your rooms. Dinner will be served at 5 pm, and after that, we will have drinks in the Rec room.” As she had said “dinner,” she had lowered her hand and pointed to a door to her left; as she had said “Rec room,” she had pointed to the door on her right. The nominee’s opposites.

“See you in an hour. For now, please take your time to wipe the travel dust off yourselves.” She gave a slight bow to the gathered group and had left via doors behind her. A glimpse of the room beyond showed that it had likely been a ballroom.

One of the women, maybe thirty, her name as she had introduced herself was Renee, stepped up to the board. She had found her name and followed the column down. “Ah, I am in Plum, exciting,” she said. Renee’s accent was soft British and educated, but not the high Queen’s English. “I like Plums. Ralph, you’re in Heliotrope.” She started up the stairs, taking two at a time.

Ralph followed up the stairs and found the room. There was a hand-carved plaque on the door that told him it was Heliotrope. Had that room been picked for him because its name sounded like it was related to a plane?

Entering the room he saw that it was primarily colored in purples. Interesting, considering Plum was also a purple, as was Lavender farther down the hall. Maybe the room designers really liked purple or ran out of other colors to use.

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Millicent sat on her couch with the letter opened in front of her. She eyed it like she was eyeing a street magician performing for pennies on a Santa Monica street; with a watchful eye for the obvious tricks of the trade.

It wasn't that she was in disbelief. She had honors before. Awards. Performances in her honor. This was..something else though. The letter itself gave off a certain vibe. It was as if the letter itself was a person who was doing their best to give compliment after compliment to bring her up to a false sense of pride before crashing it all down. Even in her field there were others who would rather see her dead on the street than up on the stage.

Millicent pondered the situation. She had been under a certain amount of stress as of late. Stress that was impacting her personal life as well as her professional one. Surely some time off was warranted. Not only that, the trip was free. Plane ride there and a generous stipend for the time she would be away. And she was in a nice position to be able to take some time off.

What drove her the most was the prize. $1,000,000 was nothing to sneeze at. Even if she didn't win it, she would enjoy the break.

She decided. She could do with a small vacation. What's the worst that could happen?

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The trip there was unlike anything she had experienced before. She never had a plane ride to herself and waited on the entire time. That in itself was worth the time away she took. The flight was long but she had gotten so relaxed it passed by like nothing. She hadn't had a restful nights sleep ever since...

Well that didn't matter now did it?

Upon arriving in France she met up with the limo driver and was sped away. She was almost hopeful it would be a singular journey there like the plane ride, but no such luck. She was with a few others who made light conversation. She joined in to an extent. Name given. Oh that joke was funny I should laugh at it. Things like that. But in a sense the others there were competition and competition brought out the worst in people. It would not serve her well to dish out all of her secrets.

It was a beautiful sight. Millicent had always wanted to come to France, though she heard things like how French people hated Americans or how dirty the country actually was. And while all of that might be true, in this instance she was met with grandeur and wonder. Millicent took a moment outside to take it all in. She needed this.

Millicent followed some of the others inside but she made a beeline for the notice board. It held her information as well as what her room would be. Turkish Rose. A quaint name. Millicent glanced around and decided she would find her room and scope it out before leaving and checking out the place itself.

Mllicent followed a rather handsome man upstairs but he made his own way to the room assigned to him, so Millicent foudn hers. Inside she noted the dated decor. That wasn't terrible. After all she was here for free. The painting depicted a desert that gave off some comfort. What impressed her was access to a balcony with some seats. She could take the morning air aftwer waking up. The room did nicely.

She further checked out the bathroom and noticed it was a shared one with someone in the adjoining bedroom. That was...less nice. Millicent liked her own space. Preferred it really. But again, she was here for free for a time. She would make the most of it. Perhaps the other person would be friendly and clean. And even if they weren't they would likely not interact too much during this.

Overall, she was impressed. Impressed and wary. The wariness had lingered ever since she got the note. It still sat with her. Had she ever heard of the La Lune family? In a sense, yes. They were important enough to be the topic of rumors abound, but what did they know of her?

Perhaps a tour of the place was in order. Once she was settled Millicent opened her bedroom door and made her way into the hallway.