The house reached out, curved gently as if waiting for an embrace. A central, circular space dominated the structure, with two smaller wings curving outwards from it. The motif of circles seemed everywhere: in the windows, punching through portions of the roof to create a trellis-like effect, culminating in what looked to be a skylight, decorated in the shape; a large fieldstone chimney seemingly anchored it all. Despite the abundance of glass, Matthew couldn't see straight through to the other side, as if it was afraid, sheltering itself and its inhabitants away from the front drive. The house itself, surely dropped out of some science-fiction novel from the 60's, settled more than anything Matthew had ever seen. It was not on the ground, but of it.

Rolling the car to a stop, Matthew cut the ignition and stepped out, making sure to lock the car despite how serene it was. Birds sang. Somewhere in the distance was a trickle of water. The trees swayed. Nothing but forest seemed to stretch in all directions. Turning back to Lloyd, Matthew squatted and whispered, "I know you can't do this, but if I get murdered here, please don't get cut up for scrap." Patting Lloyd's paint-chipped hood, its round headlights staring forward, Matthew continued up towards what was clearly the central hub of the house.

Circular stone pillars held up the gently-sloped roof, shielding any occupants from inclement weather. Long, thin windows supported where the wall met the ceiling, bleeding only a sliver of light. Wooden screens blocked the reflection of the glass. Water damage and cobwebs accented the beauty of the entrance loggia.

"Where's the front door?" he asked, wandering a little further until spotting a small stone-colored door tucked into the side. He flapped his plastic folder against his leg. "This cannot be it." Glancing around, Matthew checked for a doorbell but found only an intercom system. Pressing it produced a buzzing sound. He stepped back.

A door opened, but not the one by him. "Mr. Robinson?"

He turned to find a middle-aged woman approaching him. "Y-yes."

She held out her hand, her slippers smacking on the damp fieldstone floor. "I'm Deborah Weiss. I hope you didn't have a hard time finding the place."

Matthew, breathlessly, shook her hand. "I...didn't realize how, how big the property was."

Mrs. Weiss cocked her head to the side. "How big did you think it would've been?"

He shrugged. "I was, admittedly, assuming some kind of office park. I've never interviewed in something as private as this."

The woman smirked and gestured for him to follow. "The house was actually built in 1958, before the subdivision was built.” She paused between two pillars. “Maybe the original address would help?”

He shrugged. “I don't know, maybe?”

“7211 North Tatum?”

Matthew shrugged again.

“Not an architecture fan, hm?” She didn't wait for a reply. “Well, regardless, it was here before the subdivision, which is probably why you're confused by the size." Mrs. Weiss turned, swung open the massive front door, waiting for him to enter. "It is a big house, but most of the land has been donated to the city's Forest Preserve, as well.”

Matthew nodded, his head spinning as he entered the dark entryway. "It also might be that I, just, don't live in the area, either," he admitted.

"That might explain it, too," she added, her thin smile warm but professional.

"Is the, uh...are the parklands always open to the public or...?" He swallowed back his anxiety, only to realize how uncommonly low the ceiling was, and how dark the space was.

Mrs. Weiss shook her head. "From about late March to late November it is, then it's closed to all except invited guests and the family." Shutting the door, she finished, "It is a substantial amount of land, and Mr. Yang stipulated that it needed to stay pristine when it was gifted to the county." Handing him a pair of white slippers, she motioned him into what Matthew assumed was the living room. "You can leave your shoes here. You're more than welcome to take a seat while you wait. I'll let him know you're here." Mrs. Weiss departed.

The circular room was light-soaked and drew Matthew away from the dark entryway like a moth to a flame. Light, streaming through the skylight overhead, highlighting every groove of the chandelier hanging below it, its design like staring up at water and seeing the ripples, with differently-sized glass balls hanging like bubbles rising to the surface. More light streamed in through glass doors on the other side, embellished with a circular motif, overlooking the enormous expanse of woodlands.

A sad banquette stretched against the stone front wall, cast in a shadow of privacy. Low, ottoman-style seating with circular matching tables sat scattered under the skylit chandelier, angled loveseats turned away from the outside world. The same stonework was evident throughout the room, framing the glass doors and the fireplace alcove tucked into one side. Wherever the stone walls were not, plaster walls took their place.

Despite the room's size and the abundance of light, the whole house seemed to radiate a coldness that not even a blistering summer heat could melt. Grime streaked across the skylight. The cushions, visibly worn and faded, pressed flat against their seats. Something somewhere reeked of vinegar and the lingering scent of smoke. Cobwebs glistened quietly in the corners, swaying to a breeze he couldn't feel. Plaster walls were covered in water damage and dust, the seats hiding holes from a potential rodent infestation.

Staring, Matthew stepped carefully over the pale, stained carpet floor. He hugged his plastic folder against his chest. "Okay... I've got to admit," he started, staring up at the chandelier and watching the light bend, "this's...a little more interesting than a British mansion." His teeth chattered, wishing he could pop a piece of gum in his mouth, but figuring that might be inappropriate to do right before an interview.

"Mr. Robinson?" Mrs. Weiss stood at attention, her hands clasped behind her back. "Mr. Yang is ready for you."

Nodding, Matthew fumbled with his shoes, put on the slippers, and followed her into a hall with the same wood-screen-covered windows and fieldstone wall.

She knocked. “Mr. Yang, your next applicant is here."

"Send her in."

That didn't sit well in Matthew's stomach.