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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.

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Elise had gotten home one day from working out at the gym she parked her car in the driveway of her mother's home she hadn't moved out just yet really and was in the process of moving out soon. She got out of her car and made her way over to the mailbox to checkout the mail, bills in her name as well as her mother's but then a letter that was addressed to her got her interest. Elise entered the house putting her mother's mail on the dining room table before heading over to her room.

Elise' eyes went over the letter, she recently did win the US national Taekwondo tournament which was something she was really proud of doing, but she didn't think she would actually catch the attention of anyone major. She noticed the Visa Card in the letter as well and looked it over as well as the roundtrip tickets to France. And seeing the 1,000,000 prize that really caught her attention and decided to go to the ceremony.

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Elise couldn't help but be excited to be on this little trip, Elise wasn't expecting a private jet or anything at all either and enjoyed the food and drink on the flight over. She looked over at the others, Elise didn't know them all really as she looked at the others and made some small talk on the limo ride over to the dock, as well as the ferry ride to the private island. Once they got to the house proper Elise was amazed at the size of the building itself. "Thank you." Elise said to Wadsworth as she followed everyone else into the Chateau seeing Eleanor greeting them, she looked over at the board that was set up with everyone's name and their assigned room.

She approached it seeing that she was in the Terracotta room, Elise followed shortly behind Millicent and Ralph up to the second floor and down the hallway, she looked around until she spotted her room and opened the door. It was definitely heavily inspired by a western theme as well as a few ghost town paintings. "Well this is really nice." Elise said to herself as she made her way over to the bed, sitting down on it to test how comfortable it was which was really comfy to her as she got up. They had an hour before dinner and Elise wanted to explore as well to so she decided to head out and check out the lounge.

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Sipping on his coffee, Tony watched the sun rising over the ocean. Although there was a lot of things he missed from New York, this perk of living in Miami never got old. Closing his eyes, Tony listened to the waves crashing against the beach as he thought again of the letter he'd received yesterday, congratulating him on his nomination for the Vorace La Lune Award of Achievement. It was about time Tony received some recognition, he thought, even if it's an award he'd never heard of until now. The million dollar prize would be a welcome bonus too, putting him way ahead on his mortgage. Yes, he would definitely be accepting the invitation. Even if he loses to a more experienced surgeon, the vacation would be a nice change of pace. I just hope this goes nothing like the last awards ceremony I attended, he thought darkly as he went back inside.

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Sitting down inside the limo, Tony got his first look at the other nominees. He was a bit surprised; he did not recognize any of them, and none of them seemed to act like any of the doctors he'd met. Maybe they were Europeans? He decided to focus on listening to try to solve the mystery, only speaking himself when directly addressed, but he wasn't able to gather much from the trip's small talk.

The private jet had been quite nice, at least. Way more spacious than even first class, and much better meal options. The limo and ferry rides were pretty comfortable in their own rights, and before long they arrived at the chateau. The estate was undeniably impressive and as they entered, Tony observed that the foyer was equally so. After listening to Elenore's short speech, he followed a few of the other nominees to the notice board, began skimming through the room assignments, and... Tony scowled. Ghost hunter? Preschool teacher? Drag queen? These are the people I'm competing against? How the hell could this award possibly be so prestigious if these are their idea of ideal candidates?

After a few moments of further consideration, Tony composed himself, smirking. Well, at least it's a foregone conclusion that I'll be the winner, he thought, pleased. Finding his name on the list, he saw that he'd been assigned the Lavender Room. Following some of the other nominees, he headed upstairs to find his room. He had to walk all the way to the end of the hallway, but eventually he found his room and stepped inside. Looking around, he scowled once again. If he was asked to design his ideal bedroom, the result would be just about the exact opposite of what he saw in front of him. Is this whole thing some elaborate prank meant to embarrass me? Tony wondered incredulously. Well, if it is, then they expect a reaction out of me, but I'm sure as hell not going to give them what they want, he decided. Sighing, he flopped onto the bed, staring at the ridiculous lavender ceiling. At least the bed is comfortable.

"This is going to be a long vacation."

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A shudder escaped Sam's lips as he sat, his back pressed against the cold porcelain of his tub. His knees pulled up to his chest, another shaky breath trying to escape as he attempted to calm himself down. A long, slow breath in as he held it for a moment before letting it out with just as much time. He had been like this for a while now, finally deciding to stand up as he used the rim of the tub to prop himself up. His legs on pins and needles from how little he'd moved during that time. Sam made his way over to the sink, hands gripping each side of it as he looked at the mirror; only to see a red face staring back at him as translucent streams marked where tears had previously fallen. He turned on the cold tap, cupping his hands beneath it before splashing his face in an attempt to hide from the truth. From his emotional state.

Grabbing the hand towel, Sam finally made his way out of the restroom, legs shaky as he patted his face dry and now stood before the edge of his bed where a pile of letters were. Junk, junk, bill, and finally an odd one he was almost dismissive of at first. The envelope was thick, elegant, a bit too nice to be a scam or another pre-approval card. The return address was what truly caught his attention though. He'd heard stories about the estate, rumors amongst various things but overall that the building itself was haunted. But why would they be reaching out to him? Sam thought as his thumb slid underneath the fold of the envelope and pried it open. Inside was a letter, tickets, and a Visa card. The letter alone looked expensive, but as Sam skimmed the wording he realized this was exactly what he needed at this time.

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The entire trip felt surreal. A flight on a private plane that he could never consider to afford, waited on as needed for the flight. Though with it being roughly fourteen hours of air time, Sam took to sleeping a portion of the way. As extravagant as the ride was, he wasn't the biggest fan of flying so he slept for long periods waking up enough to eat or use the facilities before passing out once more. Upon landing he was met with a Limo, this time with others present as well. There was room enough for them all sure, but Sam found himself a bit distracted as they drove on by. Focusing more on the scenery outside than what was being said within, unless of course he was addressed directly in which he would reply in kind before looking back out the window. Before long they were on a yacht, French ocean breeze blowing through Sam's hair as he put on a pair of sunglasses and leaned off against the side of the boat.

The closer they got to their destination, the more Sam began to wonder why he had come at all. He knew what his reasoning was but…from all he'd heard about this family perhaps now wasn't the best time to be joining in awards. Though had he turned it down he likely wouldn't get the chance to do so again. His chest tightened as several thoughts raced through his head before he tried to shake them all out. Moving back towards the drink station to try and put his mind around ease. Before long they had docked and gotten towards the estate. It was as breathtaking as it was anxiety inducing. Surrounded by several beautiful people as well as some names he'd heard of or seen from times past.

As soon as introductions were given to everyone, it appeared it was a mad dash to the two A frames that held everyone's rooming assignments. It reminded him of when a new play would post the cast list, everyone running to see who got the lead in the play. It never mattered to him, he was simply lighting. Which of course meant everything was his fault at times. Sam took stock of everyone's names, trying his best to put faces to each as he looked at their professions too. He doubted he'd actually recall any of it, so he eventually gave up and went to his own square in which he appeared to be in the Tradewind room. A woman stopped just short of him, some form of a performer if he recalled, but beyond that he knew nothing more. He made his way past her into his room, a cute seaside themed area, balcony access, and a portrait of a boat in a storm. Was this meant to mean something? Sam tried not to dwell on it. Instead deciding to go forth and investigate the room further, opening it into a bathroom with a door at the other end. A closet? After trying the handle he noticed it was unlocked. Opening it to reveal a pinkish room within the frame, Sam wondered if perhaps he should close the door. He was used to leaving bathroom doors open but he'd never seen a bathroom like this, but…he did wish to “remove the travel dust”.

Sam scoffed at himself as closed the door and tossed his clothes. Shirt thrown over the sink counter as his pants and boxers were kicked off in a general direction on the floor just away from the shower itself. Running the hot water just before jumping into the shower himself. ”Building this old and dated…it must be haunted. Especially if anything I've heard is to be believed.”

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Bullshit. The single word of profanity had been repeating in Rihannon’s head since they received the letter in the mail. Bullshit when they decided they would go, claiming they needed a sabbatical before the tour. Bullshit, when they arrived at the airport and boarded a private plane… The voice in Ri’s head did seem to calm down when they drank their weight in champagne, but it came right back when they climbed into a limo with other people.

Rihannon had no clue who anyone else was in the car. They sat in the corner, their lower half twisted away from everyone to create some space, but Rihannon’s dark brown eyes continuously scanned everyone while small talk occurred.

Who were these people, and how much of a challenge were they going to be?

Bullshit. Ri wasn’t going to get this award. They’ve been second best since childhood. But what if? What if this was it? What if it was the first step to getting everything Rihannon had ever dreamed of?

And that’s why after Rihannon got out of the limo, climbed the steps of the Château, walked into the grand foyer, listened to the ancient woman with excellent skin talk, Rihannon decided to change the word from ‘bullshit’ to ‘of course.’

Of course, they had been called. Of course, they were in line for this prestigious award. Of course, someone had recognized their skill. Of course, they were climbing the left staircase to the second floor, scanning the doors until they found the Gold Room. Of course, they had a room with a private balcony.

Rihannon tossed their carry-on bag onto the bed before opening the doors to the balcony. The damp air swept into the overly yellow room, causing Rih to shiver pleasantly. Growing up in Canada, Rih had grown accustomed to the various climates. However, they always preferred the temperature to be on the colder side.

After taking in the view, Rihannon walked back into the room and flopped onto the wide-backed chair. They sighed, stretched their legs out, and hung their arms over the sides.

Why yellow? Purple was a much better colour. Rihannon wondered if they would be able to switch rooms.

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July 1st, 2025

Constance had been in her flat, sipping her tea when she had received the letter from Eleanor La Lune, inviting her to France for an award ceremony. She had to smile to herself as she was finally getting the recognition she deserved after that performance she had just finished. So much time and effort had gone into making it as perfect as she was. She was so close to becoming prima ballerina that she could taste it. Everything she had been working for, everything she had sacrificed, and it was almost in her grasp.

She checked over the invitation again and looked at her calendar. The timing couldn't have been better! She had just finished this production, and as waiting for auditions for the next one. She had just enough time to go to the award ceremony, win, and come back and be named prima finally. Of course she was going to win, there was no doubt in her mind, as she was perfect. Everyone told her so, and all her critics praised her as such.

She looked over the letter and smiled more. The prize money was nothing to sneeze at either, and it would set her up for her retirement, as well as anything else she might want to cover in the future. The most important part however, was still the prize. If she could show the world that she had earned it, then everyone would have to acknowledge what she knew about herself, that she was truly the best. All the hard work and effort, all the years of pain had been worth it to be on the top. To be the perfect ballerina her parents had wanted her to be and of course, what she had always wanted to be as well.

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The flight to France had been a short one, but easily one of the best of her life. Honestly, she could have just taken a train, but this had been much more luxurious. She enjoyed champagne on the flight, and nibbled on chilled grapes, some of the freshest in her life. She could get use to pampering like this, and she was sure that winning the award would help open doors that let her live a life like that. Especially if she invested the money wisely. Of course, she was thinking like she had won it already. Once there, she got into a limo and looked around. She recognized maybe two of the faces there, but barely. She was sure that one of the other women there was a dancer but... not a ballerina like her, and no where near as good as her. Constance didn't recognize any of the others, but maybe... oh yes, that one face. He had been on YouTube yes? She didn't use it except to watch other ballerinas, and their failures.

The boat ride had been alright, as boats were not her favorite methods of travel, but she would accept that she would have to ride to make sure that she got her award. Upon arrival, she smiled as Eleanor herself greeted them. The smile that graced her face faltered for a moment as she realized the rest of the group that she had traveled with were also there for the award. That made little to no sense to her. None of the rest of them were in the same field as her, so why were they there? She shook the thoughts of her head, and her smile graced her face once more before anyone could realize. She was going to be named the winner.

She walked over to the room assignment board and saw that she had been assigned the Evergreen Room. She did pause when she saw that she would be sharing a bathroom with someone called "Renee," in the Plum room. She wrinkled her nose, but hoped the other woman wouldn't mind her taking over the counter space. She needed it for her products. Keeping her body in peak perfection took work, not that anyone got the privilege of seeing that.

Her sensible shoes clicked along the floor as she headed up the staircase and towards her room. She was going to have to freshen up after everything, especially if she wanted to look her best for dinner. She was thankful someone else was going to take her luggage to her room, as she had packed as if she was going away for a month, not several days. She always had to look perfect, and she hoped that the accommodations would allow her to make sure that she could work her portable steamer and iron.

"Now. If I wish to impress, which dress should I wear?" She stood in front of the mirror, musing for a moment as she did.

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Miguel closed the apartment door behind him with his foot, bag of groceries from Lazy Acres in one hand, his venti hazelnut latte with three pumps of espresso in the other, his keys dangling from the carabiner looped around his left pinky, and his teeth holding onto a thick stack of mail. His eyes instinctively went down the hallway, looking for the familiar padding of paws rushing up to meet him, but there was only silence. It had been months since he'd moved out, and yet, the silence still got to him.

He set down the coffee and keys on the little bookshelf near his entry, the bag of groceries down on the floor, and with his hands free, he took the mail out of his mouth. "Alexa, play... play Doechii everywhere." Driving, energizing music immediately filled the small apartment. The walls were scarcely decorated, and moving boxes still littered the living room and small kitchen, some of them doubling as furniture at this point, and others already having collected a fine layer of dust. He flopped down onto his thrifted couch, and kicked his shoes off, as he went through the mail. Some of it was forwarded from the old office - it still crushed him to see their names listed together - some of it was bills, some of it was just ads, and then, there was something unexpected. A thick, elegant envelope that didn't belong. He frowned, immediately assuming it was just some sort of new scam - some sort of scheme to trick people with a fancy appearance.

"What the fuck..." Miguel murmured, as he tore open the envelope, and read the most bizarre letter he'd ever received. He was being nominated for an award? Because of his ghost hunting? A free trip to France, with a chance at an insane amount of money and a trip around the world? There was no fucking way this was real. Miguel crumpled the letter up, and tossed it across the room, narrowly missing his trash can. He wasn't that stupid.

...

...

He sighed, getting up off the couch, and he grabbed the crumpled up letter, as well as his coffee. It was obviously a horrible scam, but it was at least an interesting one. And his only plans for the rest of the day had been to watch I Love Lucy and try to convince himself to cook dinner, rather than ordering takeout again. Maybe other people had gotten letters like this and posted about it online - at the very least, a quick bit of Google searching would satiate his curiosity.

> Vorace La Lune Award of Achievement
> Chateau de la Lune
> Elenore la Lune
> Vorace la Lune
> La Lune scam
> La Lune fraud

By the time he closed the lid on his laptop, his coffee had long since gone cold, and moonlight filtered in through his windows.

This was going to make the video of a lifetime.

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The plane was... unsettling. He didn't like it. He hated flying in general, preferring to drive places whenever possible. Usually, though, if he had to fly, at least he was with people he knew - he rarely traveled alone, even after everything that had happened. They'd known how to help settle his nerves, how to keep this thoughts at bay.

The edible had helped, but only for a little while. After a few hours, its effects had worn off. The movies he adored, they weren't really holding his interest, either - cinematic masterpieces that they were.

"You're not taking me to some island to hunt me for sport, right?" Miguel joked nervously.

He knew where he was going. No one was going to hunt him for sport - and if someone did, he was going to be absolutely pissed. Terrified as fuck, of course, but pissed. He was here to investigate a haunted French estate, and secretly film the entire thing. The drama and rumors surrounding the family was an added bonus. He didn't care about the award. The award wasn't going to get clicks. And after everything he'd learned about it, he did not want to be a winner. His anxiety already made it feel like he was walking into a trap.

He wanted to avoid that fucking curse however he could.

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The rest of the trip wasn't nearly as quiet, but it was just as uncomfortable. The Château de La Lune required a boat in order to access it, and Miguel found himself people watching in a desperate attempt to not get seasick. He barely recognized anyone else present - well, a particular face or two stood out to him. Miguel raised an eyebrow as he caught a glance at someone he was used to seeing in a YouTube thumbnail, videos he never clicked on but the algorithm suspected he would like - a face that was attached to a name that would sometimes come up in the comment sections of his old videos, asking for a collaboration.

He raised his water at the other ghost hunter in recognition, before Miguel went back to watching everyone else - hardly anyone seemed to be talking, instead looking like they were getting ready for a photoshoot, their hair flowing in the French breeze as the boat cut through the water. Miguel wanted to talk to them. He wanted to ask them all what they'd been nominated for, why they were here, and if there had been anything odd about their invitations, about anything - he wanted to start getting footage, maybe some testimony from his fellow passengers, before they made it to the estate...

But no one was talking. And Miguel refused to be labeled as the weirdo who couldn't read a room, never again. So instead, he matched what everyone else was doing, looking out across the water and wondering what exactly awaited them.

The strange vibes continued all the way to the estate itself, too, as Elenore gave a rather brief speech that answered little questions for him. It didn't explain why them - why this random assortment of people. He didn't trust it.

The room they'd put him up in was rather pink, with a bathroom that seemingly connected to someone else's room - a design that he hated, but it was a free location, so he could hardly complain. A familiar package was waiting on the bed for him, and a quick look around the room verified that there were no cameras - that he was truly alone.

The world's greatest ghost hunter then turned on the spirit box, and introduced himself.

He didn't get anything that was clear - anything that wasn't nonsense beyond the word wine.

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Ivanna always loved when a story started with a mysterious envelope.

Narratively speaking, letters are a captivating way to start a story. Grammatically speaking, they are the only way to start a story.

Ivanna knew there was something special about a fancy envelope with both her names, though she failed to recall any stories where drag queens got to go do cool things after getting a mysterious letter. She started to slide one of her fake nails under to open it when she heard footsteps down the stairs. She put the letter back on top of the pile of mail, then flipped it so that the letter was hidden under the usual bills and coupons for random resturants, placing it on her counter just as her best friend, Superfetch, returned from the upstairs bathroom. Ivanna didn't know where this instinct to hide things from their bestie was coming from, but she still scooted the mail pile away a little further before Superfetch returned and threw her arms around Ivanna. They'd been shooting makeup videos, both in drag, like they did every weekend, unless one of them was competing in something. It would be hours until Superfetch finally left, and Ivanna got to actually open the letter.

Who were these people? Why did they want Ivanna? It didn't matter. She was going to go. She decided that before she'd even finished reading the letter.

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The plane flight had been amazing. No one else was on the plane, except for a flight attendant. They didn't run out of Terra Blue chips, and Ivanna had gotten a record-breaking low number of panic attacks: seven. Maybe she was getting over her fear of planes, although the flight attendant would not agree. Ivanna took some time to fix her running mascara--no, she did not regret taking the entire plane flight in full drag--and made her way.

The Chateto or whatever it was called was so to Ivanna's taste. So fancy, so over-the-top. She was lead to a board that posted room assignments.

"Ugh, that's the photo they used of me? I've looked way hotter..."

Ivanna found their way to their room and was pleased to find some absolute design...choices, blue flower print everywhere, as if her dead grandma's exact couch had exploded and taken over the entire room. Beautiful. She'd been told there was an hour until dinner, but knowing old people, Ivanna was expecting it to be at least two hours. Thank Ru she was already in drag! That would not be enough time. It did mean she didn't have anything to do for two hours...she was tempted to photograph the room and send it to Superfetch, who would absolutly hate how much granny it was giving, but stopped. She hadn't told Fetch she was here. She hadn't told anyone. She hoped she could find some other drag performers around somewhere. She hadn't seen anyone in drag yet, but surely there were some somewhere, for her to compete against? What even was this competetion? Should she have thought before she came here? Should she have told someone? Should--oh wait, there was a door on the other side of the room! That must be the bathroom! If it was even half as nice as the rest of the Chatito, then it was time for Ivanna to finally take the fancy dump she'd deserved all her life.

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In the hallway outside the bedrooms two female voices could be heard. They were trying to whisper, but the longer they were in the hall the more raised their voices became.

“No, that one is for Azalea.”

“How can you tell?”

“The name on the tag. It’s for Miguel, and he is in Azalea.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, look if it helps just go get those big posters from down stairs and we can match the names with the room names.”

“You get it.”

“You’re the one getting Miguel and Millicent confused. It’ll go faster if you just get the boards.”

“What if Mrs. La Lune sees me? Or worse, Wadsworth.”

“Then just tell them the truth. You’re getting the boards to make sure you get the luggage to the right room. You can’t be serious that you’re more afraid of Wadsworth than you are of Mrs. La Lune. She’s terrifying.”

“He is so butler-y.” Whatever the other woman may have responded with was lost as Renee and Millicent stepped out of their rooms.

“I can just get my bag. In the hall is enough,” she said. Renee went for her bag, picking it out of the others there. “Thank you.” She went back into her room.

One of the women, face bright pink, held out a bag that she thought belonged to the Turkish Rose room. It was the wrong bag.

@kittyluna45 The door on the other side of the bathroom that connects to Plum opens and Renee comes in holding a small bag for bathroom supplies.

“Oh, hi. Sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. I’m Renee.” She sets her bag down on the counter and steps back out of the room, closing the door behind her.

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Ralph followed Renee’s example and got his own bag. The bickering had gotten loud, and he felt bad for the women. He set the bag on his bed and considered the room. It was a well appointed room. Though it had a feel of a disused hotel room. It wasn’t dusty or anything, in fact it was very clean, it just felt unlived in.

It had three doors, one went out to the hall, one to a balcony that looked over the southern side of the estate, basically all vineyards. The third door went into a bathroom. One he shared with whoever had the room next to him.

On the desk were a few pieces of paper spread out in an eye-catching way. He looked over the papers. The top piece was actually just a card. On the card was the Wi-fi login info. He quickly logged in. Another paper was a timeline of planned events, a card was attached that had options for steak, fish, and vegetarian dinners. The other was a short history about the place. It wasn’t anything a quick Google search hadn’t been able to tell him while he was considering going.

When he picked up the second paper he realized there had been a photo underneath it. It was an older photo. One taken in his teen years with his boyfriend at the time. Ralph picked it up, hands shaking, and flipped the photo over. It was a reprint, not the original, on the back of it was written in neat, precise, lettering “HAS HE FORGIVEN YOU?”

Ralph sat down on the desk chair, almost missing it. He hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Not since... Well, not since he had left.

Ralph went into the bathroom that he shared with the next room. He didn’t know who he was sharing with but he washed his face and hands, running cool water through his hair. It had been a bit mussed from the plane ride. He splashed his face a couple of times with cold water. Trying to calm himself down.

How did someone get a copy of that photo?

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As she exited her room she overhear a conversation. From the sounds of it, they were workers in the estate as they were discussing bringing their bags to their respective rooms. Millicent was about to not bother when her name was mentioned and how she was being confused with someone named Miguel. Was this how workers acted? Two names starting with M produced this much confusion.

Millienct resumed exiting her room as someone else did. The woman looks innocent, sweet-as-pie, which instanly brought Millicent's heckles up. In her experience, the buttery sweet-looking people were often the most ruthless. She had grabbed her own bag, leaving Millicent alone with the two maids. One of them carried a bag, held out to her. Millicent didn't recognize the bag but she sure knew it wasn't her's. Wasn't this supposed to be a relaxing trip for her?

"Ok, so that is not my bag. I do not have time to play musical bags right now, but can you ensure my correct luggage goes to my room by the end of the day? Preferably before nightfall so I can have a clean change of clothes for later?" The one maid with the bag looked crestfallen but, honestly, Millicent gave no damns. If you couldn't do your job correctly you should expect to hear about it. She ignored the other's made angry look towards her and Millicent proceeded out of the hallway. As she was leaving she overheard the maid speak to the other, "I told you that was for Miguel. Quick go get the boards before we get in serious trouble. This would be the dumbest way to get fired ever."

Millicent exited the hallway into the second floor entrance. She noted the door across from her, one she hadn't paid much attention to on her trek up. There was a code pad, presumambly then locked. Not out of the ordinary. This was a home, after all. She assumed areas were off limits to them. Deciding to see more of the upper floor Millicent proceeded to the other door and into was looked to be a ballroom.

The room was spacious if a bit empty. Though someone else was in the room with her. She was an older woman and was presently putting up decorations. Not wanting to be awkward and just stand there, Millicent called out. "The decorations are beautiful. This whole estate is."

The woman startled a bit, obviously not expecting her, but she recovered quickly and gave her a warm smile. "Ah thank you dear Millicent. We've put a lot of work into it all. I hope you enjoy yourself. We've got some lovely things planned."

"She knows my name. Not unexpected either given the photos and room assignments." Millicent returned the woman's warm affect. "Hope you don't mind I am just stretching my legs. Been sitting down for so long it's nice to walk around. Is there anything you recommend I see before the events are underway?"

"Of course, please feel free to explore any of the public areas of the house. We keep our rooms private, but otherwise the estate is free for you to explore. To your right there is a lovely lounge. Or you can head down to the Rec room for a drink before dinner if that interests you. I cannot recommend the gardens enough though. One of my favorite places to go for an evening walk."

Leave it to the hostess to offer wonderful suggestions. "Thank you, I think I will check out those gardens." As she turned, she heard the woman call out. "Oh Millicent, before I forget, do make sure you get your dinner preference in before 4:30. The card should be in your room if you have not been there yet."

Millicnet waved goodbye and made her way back into the hallway. She entered her room again and made her way to the desk.

Millicent reached for the card and read it to herself, jotting down she preferred the steak for dinner. The other information on the desk was sueful, but not as of yet. She made a mental note to skim the histoy of the place more. She had heard rumors and wondered if they proved true.

Before she left she noticed something else on the desk. Something that looked off compared to the others. It was a newspaper clipping. She picked it up and read it. The title spoke about a robbery at a magic shop. She recognized he name of the shop and felt her fingers clutch the paper in her hand, crinkling it somewhat. Attached was a note. She read it. Then read it again as she dropped it to the ground. Millicent felt her heart race. What the hell was going on here?

She sat on the edge of the bed and took a minute. How did someone know this information? Who here did? Was this whole award a trap to get her here? Or was it one of the other guests who came across her name? There were too many coincidences. She didn't beleive in those anyway. Millicent strode over to the door that led to the bathroom and locked it. She thought she heard something from the other side but didn't bother to check. It was clear now she couldn't trust anyone.

Millicnet collected herself and left her room and made her way downstairs. She would check out the gardens, like she said. Perhaps the change of scenery would clear her mind a bit. And she could do some thinking.

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After a couple minutes of staring at the lavender ceiling in thought, Tony got up from the bed and continued looking around the room. On the desk, he noticed there was a stack of papers. Curious, he went to take a closer look. On top of the pile was a card providing the wifi information, which he promptly logged into. Beneath that was the itinerary for the weekend, which looked straightforward enough. Attached to it was the list of meal options for tonight’s dinner, from which he chose the steak, trusting that people as sophisticated as the La Lunes wouldn’t deign to serve a steak at anything past medium rare. Next was a document outlining the history of the vineyard, which he quickly concluded had no information that he hadn’t found in his first few minutes of research. The last item on the pile, very out of place compared to the rest of the items, was a manila folder with nothing on the outside that might hint at its contents.

Curious, Tony opened the folder, revealing a stack of papers that all looked very similar. Looking at the first page, the first thing he noticed was the letterhead of Cornell University. Raising his eyebrows, he continued to the header:



At this point, Tony was alarmed, and that alarm quickly turned into outright panic when he noticed that at the bottom of the page, beneath the section that itemized the rather substantial costs, a few lines had been neatly highlighted… those containing the details of the payment received to cover the full amount. The check number, the name associated with the bank account… and the name of the individual who signed the check. Quickly shuffling through the rest of the papers, he found that they were all the same: one for every semester of both undergrad and medical school.


What.
The.
FUCK.

How do they have this? Why do they have this? Do they know who that is? What else do they know? How long have they known? Why did they bring me here? Why do they want me to know that they know? How do they have this?!?!

All these questions and more rapidly flashed through his mind as Tony struggled to calm down enough for rational thought. This is a huge fucking problem. Worse, actually. This is an I-COULD-FUCKING-DIE problem. His panic giving way to anger, he began shredding every single page into tiny pieces. Tony knew it was a futile effort, that whoever had put the folder here to begin with would undoubtedly have other copies, and that even if they didn’t, the mere knowledge was enough to bury him. But he wouldn’t risk anyone else stumbling across this. He needed to eliminate this problem, and the last thing he needed was creating more problems. After a couple minutes he was done shredding, so he piled all the shreds onto the folder, carried it into the bathroom - which fortunately was not occupied by the resident of the Gold Room - and flushed every last shred down the toilet. He had to do it in three batches to make sure it wouldn’t clog, which he was sure his neighbor would probably draw embarrassing conclusions about; but since that was far better than the truth, so be it.

With the evidence safely disposed of, Tony left his room, passing some bickering servants on his way downstairs to the Rec Room. He had a huge problem to solve, urgently… but first, he needed a drink.

Making it downstairs without incident, Tony turned to the door on his right and opened it. Inside, he found what appeared to be by far the most modern room of the house he had seen so far - which wasn’t saying much, since the room still looked decades old. The clear centerpiece of the room was the wet bar, with seating for four. Behind the bar stood a bartender, who was absently cleaning a glass while chatting with a middle-aged male whose beer belly seemed a formidable challenge for the bar stool on which he was sitting. On the wall behind the bartender was an impressive array of wines and spirits.

The bartender looked up and nodded. “Good evening, sir. Can I get anything for you?”

Following the bartender’s gaze, the large man looked at Tony. “You’re one of the nominees.” The man had a strong French accent, but his voice was well trained. It was easy to understand and deep.

Tony nodded at each greeting in turn, approaching the bar and taking the seat furthest from the man, who he presumed must be one of the La Lunes. “Correct, although of course you already knew that,” Tony replied, forcing a smile. “Nevertheless, I am Dr. Stronzetto, but feel free to call me Tony.” Turning to the bartender he added, “I’ll have a glass of whatever is the finest scotch you have on hand, if you’d be so kind.”

“Would a Glenfiddich twenty-one be to your liking? I have that or some Kikori if that is your speed.”

“No one wants the weird rice scotch.” The man bellowed. “Pleasure to meet you Doc. I’m Lawrence. You’ll find that Leon likes strange things. But he’s good at his job.” Lawrence winked at Leon, the bartender. Obviously hinting at some long standing in-joke.

“The Glenfiddich would be perfect,” Tony answered, chuckling lightly at Lawrence’s dismissal of the Kikori. Turning to Lawrence, he replied “I would expect no less from a bartender working at one of the most famous vineyards in the world. I’m just glad to see he leaves some room on the bar for anything other than wine.”

“We do have a wide selection of wines from all over the world,” Leon said as he busied himself with pouring the requested glass.

“Gotta know the competition,” Lawrence said, raising his glass slightly. “So, you said you were a doctor. I’ll be honest here but I don’t know who all are in the nominees this time. Hopefully some cuties, though.” He chuckles. “What type of doctor are you?”

Thinking again of the folder he’d found in his room, Tony wondered whether this was a rhetorical question. “A surgeon,” he answered carefully. “I may be young in my field, but I have completed more than my fair share of successful surgeries so far. Hopefully nobody will be needing my services during this trip, but if the need arises, you can rest assured that they will be in good hands,” he vowed with a slight smile.

“Good to hear.” Lawrence nodded. “Between us two. This year is a mess. I saw there were two youtube personalities this year. Who even thought that was a good idea?” he shakes his head.

To play nice, or to tell the truth? Tony wondered. “I’m sure they’re good at… whatever it is they do,” he started, taking the middle ground, “but I must confess that they certainly are not what I was expecting.” By this point Leon had finished pouring the scotch, setting the glass on a coaster in front of him. Tony took a sip, nodding his thanks.

“Enjoy sir,” Leon said.

“Oh, everyone is good at what they do if they are here,” Lawrence replies, waving his hand dismissively. “You can’t be bad at what you do and be invited here. Vorace made sure of that.” He turns and raises his glass to the painting of the old man on the wall.

Tony simply nodded, taking the moment to look around the rest of the room. A few seating areas occupied much of the space, although there was a section dedicated to recreational activities, offering a billiards table, an air hockey table, and an ornate chess board. He also saw a bookshelf containing what seemed to be board games, although from here he could not discern any of their identities. On the back wall were two paintings: the portrait of Vorace that Lawrence had saluted, and another that depicted what he suspected was a younger Elenore, and what he assumed was the rest of her family. At a secluded table in a corner of the room, Tony saw a young woman hunched over a laptop, seemingly ignoring everyone else in the room. “She seems chatty,” he remarked, taking another sip of scotch.

“Only if you’re an internet friend.” Lawrence rolled his eyes, sipping his own drink. “She hasn’t spoken to most of the family in probably a year. Went to college and got smart. More like smart ass,” he said the last part loudly, mostly at the woman in the corner. She flipped him off, without looking up from her laptop.

“And respectful towards her elders,” Tony ironically added to his previous observation. Glancing down at his watch, he saw that it was already 4:30, thirty minutes before dinner. “Well, thanks for your company, Lawrence, but I suppose I should get ready for dinner.” Turning to Leon, “And for the scotch,” he added, tilting his head back and downing the rest of the glass in one shot, then setting the glass down on the bar.

“See you at dinner,” Lawrence said. “Maybe you’ll get a better look at Lena’s face away from her computer screen too.” Leon gave a nod.

Tony nodded, in lieu of a response. Exiting through the foyer, he headed back up the stairs towards his hideous Lavender Room, reflecting on his conversation with Lawrence as he walked. Neither of the La Lunes he’d just met were quite what he’d imagined this family to be. I signed up for an award ceremony, not a bunch of mysteries, he thought grumpily.

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The water pressure was surprisingly great. Not that he'd expected less from someone who could afford a place this grand, but given its age he figured it may be one of the pieces in which the estate was lacking. Sam has spent the first bit of it just soaking in the warmth of the water, letting it fall over himself as his hands ran over bits that ached from travel. He was midway into scrubbing his scalp with shampoo when he heard the lock click shut. Pausing for a moment as he stared at the general direction of the sound before deciding it must've been whomever was residing in the room next door. Though he'd certainly ensure it was their lock that closed before checking his own. The last thing Sam needed was a paranormal encounter of the third kind while he was showering. Wishing he'd put on some music before having jumped in, Sam finished showering, stepping out of it as steam filled the area and fogged the mirrors.

He grabbed a towel and began drying his hair first as he walked over towards the others’ door. One hand on the towel as it scrunched his hair, the other reaching out to try the know and finding it locked. Sam let out a breath of tension he'd been holding after seeing it was just another person. That was fine. He'd made his way back towards the center of the bathroom, drying the rest of himself off before slinging the towel over his shoulder and walking into his room. It was then he came to realize he didn't have a change of clothes. His suitcase was being taken in by the employees of this estate, and nothing, save some papers on a desk, was in his room. He could hear chatter out in the hallway, wrapping the towel around his waist, he made his way out to see who it was.

It was there he spotted the two maids, bags in hand and around them as they stood in the hall. Sam approached them, looking over all the remaining ones as he flashed them a warm smile. ”Hey, uh, mind if I take my own luggage? Kinda forgot to snag some clothes before I showered.” He said awkwardly as one hand rubbed the nape of his neck in embarrassment of the situation.

One of the two maids, holding the board from down stairs looked between him and the board. Then pointed at a bag. “Go for it.”

The other maid looked Sam head to toe, the pinkishness in her face fading replaced with a smile. “Finally something I can work with.”

“Oh my god. Shut up.”

Sam blushed at the maids comment, clearing his throat sheepishly as he walked on over towards the bag they pointed at. Not that he needed help finding his own pack. ”Smart, using the boards to help. Though I feel it would've been easier had they just made you a miniature version to pocket.” He joked as he reached down for the bag. It was sudden, too quick to catch in the position he was in, but a breeze had hit him that he hadn't felt in moments prior. It was clear he was too hasty to tie his towel properly, and the sudden motion had it all come undone. Sam stood there, stark naked and frozen for a moment as his hand wrapped around the handle of his case. It took less than a minute, but far too long for anyone else for him to realize and react to the situation before his other hand went and covered up his own jewels. ”Oh my gosh, I am sooo sorry. I, uh, sorry could you hand that…to me?” Sam tried pointing with his nose, as had he removed his hand it would all be exposed once again.

Neither maid seemed disturbed by his sudden nakedness. The one holding the board grabbed Sam's bag with her free hand.

“Oh, do not apologize. I thought this job would be boring. Glad to see things are looking up.” The once blushing maid said. “Feel free to ask for my help at any point. Just ask for Juliane.”

The other maid rolled her eyes and Sam could hear her just barely as she said, “La putain.”

Sam spoke to himself in an attempt to recall the maids name. ”Juliane La Putain. Got it, though I hope my pronunciation isn't too horrible. Was more of a Spanish 1 kind of guy.” He said as he wrapped the towel around his waist once more while the maid had grabbed his bag for him.

Both maids froze for a moment. Then met each other's glances and busted up laughing.

“Oh no Monsieur. That is, uh a profession. Not my name. Please just ask for Juliane.”

The other maid meanwhile, still laughing, took Sam's bag into his room. “I'm telling Marianne.”

“Don't you dare!”

Sam's face went flush with rosey cheeks as the two maids corrected him. How was he supposed to know ‘La Putain’ meant maid? Though he supposed it made sense. In Spanish, La or El was like ‘the’ so maybe in French it worked the same. Juliane the maid. ”Right. Sorry.” He said as he chuckled at the misunderstanding, following behind the maid who held his bag. ”Thanks again with all your help. You two were great.” Sam said as he entered his room.

“Oh don't worry Monsieur you have nothing to apologize for.” The yet unnamed maid said.

“You too were great,” Juliane said with a wink. “At your service Monsieur.”

Sam smile and waved at them ”Oh uh, thanks.” was all he could manage to say before closing the door behind him and letting out a deep breath. ”Fuck. I hope that doesn't get back to the family heads. I don't need to be seen as some kind of creep…so stupid.” He whispered to himself as he let the towel fall once more now that he was in the privacy of his own room. He placed the bag atop the desk, beginning to rummage through for an outfit to wear until the papers caught his eye once more. There was a meal card, one that needed to be filled out and turned in by 4:30pm. Sam checked the time quickly, noting it was almost time for them to do so and so he quickly checked out the steak option. If he had any luck it'd be a filet mignon. He wrote beside it, medium rare, making sure the French Cuisine didn't overcook the meal.

Sam had originally wanted to wear a cute pink and white outfit to explore the area in, but dinner was in roughly half an hour and he wasn't sure about making two outfit changes in one day. What's more, the paper had mentioned to dress “Fancy.” What the fuck did that mean? He sure as hell didn't know, and he had half a mind to ask Juliane to help him pick out an outfit for the evening. Whatever it was, he knew a pink baseball button up and white jeans wasn't usually considered to be fancy. So he opted for an outfit he felt was more…appropriate. A black short sleeved button up with striped black pants and thin leather belt. Sam slipped a pair of sunglasses atop a button on the shirt, pairing it with a black wristwatch and polished black dress shoes.

He snagged the pile of papers from the desk, taking them and his toiletry bag to the bathroom sink where he began to brush his teeth. Toothbrush in one hand, the other sorting through what was left for him to read. A time-line of events, a brief history of the location and family, which Sam scoffed at as it seemed to be missing key details, the Wi-Fi login, and…a note? He read it carefully, only five words written down on this vast canvas of white. But five words that filled him with dread. His hands shook, the toothbrush long forgotten as he bit down on it and left it in his mouth while he flipped the note back and forth, hoping the words would change. Searching for anything more. Sam held it to the light in the bathroom, trying to see if anything else would show. Nothing. He ran to his room, pulling out a metallic box that was within his luggage and opened it to pull out a small blacklight. Flashing it over the paper to reveal some hidden secret. Nothing. Finally he'd moved back into the bathroom, lighting a match and holding it close to see if heat might show some deeper meaning. Still nothing.

Panicked at who might see, Sam let the flame hit the paper and burn it to its entirety. Letting the ashes fall to the bathroom floor before disposing of the dead match in the trashcan by the toilet. He paced the length of the bathroom from door to door until he finally decided he'd need to try and push past whatever this was. Maybe it was the house making sure he hadn't told anyone he was coming here. To keep the secret and surprise until the awards. That had to be it. What else could it be? Sam decided that was the reasoning for the note, making his way back to the sink and now brushing his teeth with a bit more manic than before, as if trying to make himself forget the contents of the ashes laid on the floor.

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Constance looked over at the door as it opened and looked over at the rather meek looking woman there. Before Constance could say anything she had introduced herself as Renee, set down a bag and backed out. Renee... she was the teacher, right? Constance scoffed to herself as she walked over to the door Renee had walked through and locked it, effectively locking the other woman out. Clearly the woman had been invited as a seat filler. What would a preschool teacher have done to earn the award that Constance was up for. Some of the others she could understand. Surgeons saved lives, other entertainers did work, but a teacher?

She took another moment looking at herself in the mirror before she heard a knock at the door. "Ah, perfect timing." She walked out of the bathroom and to her door and opened it.

"Your Luggage, Mademoiselle." The maid offered Constance a smile as she gestured to the small pile of luggage by the door, before starting to bring it in. It took a moment, but soon all the bags were inside the room.

"Ah, thank you." Constance gently reached into her pocket and pulled out ten Euro note and handed it to the maid. The maid looked puzzled for a moment before tucking it away.

"Merci Mademoiselle. Do you need anything else at the moment?"

"No, thank you." With that, the maid departed and Constance went to lock the door to her room. She picked up her two garment bags and swept across the room to put them into the wardrobe. Those dresses had to be in the best condition for the next few days. It was then she spotted the pile of papers on the desk and walked over to look them over.

She looked at the card with the wi-fi information and went to type it into her phone. No use using up her precious date when they were offering free wi-fi. The second card had the options for that nights dinner on it. She did have to mull that over for a moment. While steak would probably be the tastiest, and given the La Lune reputation the chef would be incredible, red meat was always the fattiest of the bunch. Fish might have been a safe options, but they were in France. It meant some buttery creamy sauce with the fish, and that was too many calories for Constance. She picked up her pen and checked the vegetarian option. The safest option for her calorie wise. She had already splurged that day with the grapes and champagne. She was going to have to get up early the next day to jog it off, or find another way to burn off the calories.

She picked up the next paper to see the itinerary and paused. Relax? Enjoy yourself? Enjoy the pool? No, Constance thought. She would spend the day keeping herself limber and stretching. She couldn't truly afford a whole day to relax.

The next paper was a history of the Chateau but when she picked it up, what was under it caught her attention. It looked like an innocent photo. She went to pick it up, and saw there was another, and another. There were several photos there, and with each one her expression grew more and more panicked. How... how had anyone known?

She looked around the room and her eyes landed on the trashcan. Thankfully she had a lighter in her purse, and the trashcan was a beautiful metal container. She dashed over as quietly as she could, photos in hand and then over the trash can lit each one on fire and let it drop into the receptacle, one by one. She watched to make sure that each photo burned up into nothing but ash, and then paused. What if the butler or maids saw the ash? No. She couldn't be caught.

She lifted the bin and carried it to the bathroom and to the toilet. She lifted the seat and then dumped the ashes into the water, brushing it out with her hands. No one was going to see these photos. No one. Once she was sure all the ashes were in the toilet, she flushed. Twice. With the evidence disposed of, she walked back over to her room, set the bin back down, and then went back to the bathroom and washed her hands. She looked up at herself in the mirror and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Perfect. Now... time to change before dinner."