I was genuinely concerned that I would never be able to see the manor in any other way besides the grey weather conditions we were experiencing. I certainly wouldn’t be in a sunny mood for much longer if it remained cloudy. My attitude would slowly fall into something unbearable, though only if I gave in completely to the pressure of the overall task.

Interestingly, I began to feel it as I got closer to the front door. From where we had been at the gate, I had not fully took in how huge the entrance was. It was definitely made for large parties to enter all at once. Even the fountain had been placed perfectly beside a curved driveway, for traffic to drop off guests in lavish cars.

Nightlife at Westley manor must’ve been a sight to see. Though I doubted I’d ever get a chance to witness that outside of my own investigation.

Staring up at the clouds, and squinting at the dark sky, I tightened my grip on my suitcase when Bell stood before the front door in curiosity. I walked up to him, but I did not look at the door.

To my right, the walls of the manor half-concealed a stone walkway that led to an orchard at the very end where I could spot the gardens that bled into the wild forests. It wasn’t apple season, yet the leaves were vibrantly green, thick and thin trunks rocking back and forth with the cold wind.

I tried to imagine what was beyond the manor. I’d seen a map of the area at the train station, and knew there was a lake somewhere close by. Though, with the ocean just a few miles away, there must’ve been no need for one.

Bell tugged at my sleeve, which surprised me because I wasn’t used to physical contact with strangers. Still, I paid attention to him. I had to be alert, always.

The man released my jacket to hold onto himself. He was shivering in his thick sweater, and something told me it wasn’t entirely due to the cold.

I looked at the intricate door, at the door-knockers that were big enough for giants to hold, and at the red carpet that spilled out in front of us. Beyond what I could see from where we were, there was nothing but utter darkness.

I feared that if I stuck my hand inside the opened door, I’d get snatched in along with it.

“The door . . . is open.” I observed.

It hadn’t been open when we’d made our journey there. So someone else must’ve unlocked it whilst we hadn’t been paying attention. It was a considerate thing to do, but it was freezing, so—it was best to go inside quickly and shut the door.

Bell didn’t waver, though. He stood there, stiff like a cautious cat. “Who opened it?”

Who?

One of your cousins . . . must've opened it for us?

That’d been my guess. I didn’t know why he was so hesitant. “Is something wrong?”

He made a move to step back, but stopped momentarily to shake his head. “I believe it’s just a feeling . . .”

“A feeling?”

Bell gathered himself and sent me a fully relaxed smile. He had been troubled for some reason. “I guess it’s nothing.” He concluded. “I just haven’t seen my cousins in a while, and—I’m concerned for their well-being, considering . . .”

The young man didn’t finish what he was saying. He didn’t need to. I understood the gist of what he was trying to get at.

Rubbing my arms, to regain more warmth into my skin, I sent him a short nod of my own, and waved a hand to the inside, “We should escape the cold, then.” I suggested. “It’s probably just me, but I get even more anxious when I’m shivering like this.”

“You’re right.” He smiled softly, and went ahead.

I kept my mouth shut as he did so.

I was being honest with him. Decorating my lies with some truths was a good way to conceal my intentions. It was harder for me to lie if I didn’t.

But then again . . . it was hard, in general, to lie at all. I was about to lie to so many people. Above all that I’d prepared myself for, being partly dishonest was the one thing that I hoped could succeed.

Bell took each step carefully, silently, into the house. Once I’d stepped in too, my shivering hadn’t ceased, in fact it worsened.

My eyes had to adjust to the layout, though once I fully could, the small gasp I’d let out seemed to echo down the corridors that I could see with my naked eye.

In front of us, an even larger staircase led up into the second story of the manor, whilst arched hallways decorated the left and right of us. In the midst of the grandeur, antique oak tables lined the walls that were decorated with oil portraits of people who must’ve been relatives. Atop those tables were artifacts from all over the world, gifts and purchases, even trophies that glinted in the light that streamed in from the circled windows high above us.

They created a spotlight effect. I stood in one, to take in the fading light from outside. Bell was standing in one too, searching for any sign of his family.

Curiously, no one had come to greet us at the front door either. We’d gotten there on our own, with no other guests in sight.

We really had come late.

For a while we merely stayed in that entranceway, with Bell waiting patiently and peeking into hallways that I did not recognize. I hadn’t moved from my spot in the middle of that room, the scale was intimidating, and I felt that if I strayed, I’d get lost in the maze of the manor.

I had no idea how any child could call this place a home. The smell too, was of some flowery tobacco, a scent I could not quite name. It was almost like burnt plumeria.

“I thought they’d come and greet me like they usually do,” Bell said, disheartened. He pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, gaze on the floor. “Where are they—?”

Taking this opportunity to leave my spot, I moved to the start of that staircase, and gawked at the massive size of it. Running up those stairs would leave me breathless. I promised myself I would not try.

Leaning against the wood railings, I lifted my head to take a better look at the windows. The natural light was working well, and there was hardly a need for candles, even when they currently weren’t on. But below the windows, a few metal grates had caught my attention.

I pointed to them, and asked, “Were those left behind from the school?”

Bell looked to where my question was, “Ah, those speakers.” He craned his neck to catch a glimpse of them too. “Yes. And they work.”

They work?

The school must not have been shut down too long ago, then. The lady had said that it was open during the time my parents had been students, so—

“So a lot of the school is still left behind here.” I said. Why would the Westley and Modiano families even make a school? Was it because of business?

That was probably the answer. The families seemed to be determined to have their hands in any sort of thing. It sounded tiring to be so busy, but that was why there were so many members to take care of everything.

When I dropped my eyes to see Bell, I wondered if he also had a business that he was responsible for. Each man in our party most likely did.

Putting my suitcase down, I attempted to rub my eyes. I faltered, however, when an unknown hand clasped onto my shoulder. It felt urgent as the person behind me grabbed at my jacket in his haste.

I jumped slightly in place, and when I stared at the stranger, my breath hitched.

Bell perked up, and smiled even sunnier than before, “Alexander.” He said, in a high pitch.

I prevented my eyes from widening.

This was . . .

The man named Alexander had not let go of me. He was latching onto my shoulder with great ferocity. And his own eyes held that of caution. They were red, like he hadn’t slept.

“Y-You guys . . .” He said quietly. It was a forced whisper. I hadn’t even heard him approach us. “Why are you . . . here . . .” It was a question, but it sounded as if he knew the answer to it.

Bell’s smile wavered, “What?”

“Why are you here?” He questioned, more intensely now.

I stepped away from him, and unlatched his arm from mine. He was in distress.

His cousin took my place, standing in between us. That same look of worry graced his features. Even in the dim light I could tell they were related. They had similar golden hair, and those eyes . . .

Blue eyes.

Alexander, taller than both me and Bell, grabbed onto his cousin carefully, “Bell, you have to leave—”

“Why?” Bell searched his face, and took hold of him too. “Alexander, tell me.”

“I can’t.” The man said.

“You can’t . . . ?” The sadness Bell displayed hurt even me. I could instantly tell how close they were. A tight family bond like that was rare. It was unfamiliar to me.

When I stumbled back, not wholly paying attention to my surroundings anymore, I held onto a nearby table for support, nearly knocking down a glass trophy. The two cousins didn’t move, not until Alexander pushed Bell away at arm’s-length.

Bell shook him, “What is wrong, Alexander?” His voice rose higher. It hurt my ears.

Alexander glanced at me, face full of despair, and then he turned his head upwards, to view the windows, no—the speakers.

And as if on cue, when we both looked up at them, a crackling sound erupted from deep within those metal grates, like someone was crawling through the vents. But instead of a person emerging from the speakers, a voice arrived.

It did not echo, it lingered through the corridors, and stayed in the air, thick, almost muffled. At first, the voice did nothing but hum. It was staticky, hard to grasp upon first listen, but it was definitely a human being behind that voice.

When I turned to Alexander, I grew rigid. He was a man with prominent features, scary in a way that most professional businessmen were, and with eyes that could pin you down. If he wanted to look gentle, then he could, and if he wanted to be intimidating, then he could do that easily too. That was why I was struck by how angry and scared he appeared when the voice came.

Bell noticed this as well, and stared at the speakers with us. “Why are they . . . ?”

Why was someone using the old school speakers?

Alexander placed his finger to his lips, to silence us. We obeyed without question. He commanded us like his demands were critical to follow. As if it was a matter of life or death.

This was Alexander Westley. The first son of George Westley, and the heir to the entire Westley fortune.

I gulped.

I hadn’t expected to see him so soon.

‘The final students have finally joined our class.’ The voice from the speakers said. From the faces of the two people with me, I assumed they had no idea who was speaking either.

When I tried to talk back to it, Alexander shushed me again.

Blinking in astonishment, I put a hand against my mouth.

The voice went on, ‘Now that we have all of our students. Classes shall now begin soon.’

The house shuddered. It must’ve been due to the wind, but it felt like it was as alive as we were. I tried not to tremble.

‘As you all know, our classes are separated by subject: Yew dorm will be for those who specialize in science. Willow dorm will be for those who specialize in math. Oak dorm will be for those who specialize in history. And Ivy dorm will be for those who specialize in english.’ The way the speaker had said this, almost felt like they had done so before.

I recognized I'd stepped into a trap. This was what Alexander had been warning us about when he saw us. There was something going on here, and he had tried to save us from ever having to experience it.

We had been fools not to listen.

The front door shut with a loud bang. Bell scurried to a corner, frightened. Someone in the darkness had closed it before we could decide to run.

The speakers cracked, and then the voice proceeded, ‘Yora, Alexander, Christopher, and Lynn are the assigned dorm heads. They will be in charge of selecting roommates.’ The unknown person instructed. ‘Once that is completed, I will assign you the tests . . .’

I was about to speak, but Alexander grasped onto my forearm, warning me.

‘I am Professor Cross, and you will obey me, my students.’ It wasn’t a voice that sounded like an older adult. It was young, like us. ‘It is what you deserve after what you have done.’

That last sentence did echo. Amid all of the confusing things that this mystery person had just said, that part was what caught me off guard.

I looked at Alexander and Bell.

Had those two done something to warrant this—? And what of their cousins, the ones I hadn’t met yet?

‘Among these 16 students, there is a person who is responsible for the death of George Westley.’ The voice revealed. ‘I will punish you all, until you find the one that is the murderer.’

My breath left me.

The death . . . of . . . 

Alexander hung his head low, his swept back blonde hair now covering his darkened eyes. Bell was astonished, and then he caved in on himself, falling to the floor but catching himself before he could hit the ground hard.

I had put myself in the crossfires of some family drama that I hadn’t been invited to in the first place. The house was against me, and the guests were even more untrustworthy than before.

There had to be some way to get out. This wasn't worth my efforts.

‘The gatekeepers will continue to keep watch over the school.’ The voice said, reading my mind. ‘You cannot leave until all of your classes have been completed. If you try to escape, then you will be expelled. Permanently.’ At that, I became livid. There was no way . . .

The voice laughed lightly, ‘Welcome, boys, to Westley Academy.’

This couldn’t be real—

It couldn’t.

When Alexander released my arm, I gripped his hand, “What is this place?” I asked him, rushed.

The speakers sent out another harsh snapping noise, which indicated that the voice had shut off the system. It made me wince, but Alexander didn’t lose his focus on me. His blue eyes from before were darker, stormier.

“Who was that—?” Bell staggered to where Alexander and I were. As soon as he was close to his cousin, he lowered his voice. “I didn’t know . . .”

Noticing finally that Alexander was wearing some sort of navy blue school uniform, I gripped his hand more fiercely. I needed answers, immediately. “Tell me. Tell me what this place is and how to get out—”

“You heard that voice, didn’t you?” Alexander made me feel incompetent, almost. Was he doing it intentionally? “This is Westley Academy now . . . and we must survive.”

He wasn’t lying. He was playing by the rules like any smart person would. The voice still stayed in the air, stagnant, carrying echoes into every crevice, every nook, letting us know that this wasn’t some joke. Our lives were actually being threatened. I could tell because of the wary looks those two cousins had, like they were just as perplexed by the accusations. 

How long had Alexander been held captive by that voice? Weeks? His red, sleepless eyes managed to give me my answer.

And the others . . . the guests . . .

The missing men.

The dawning realization had come to me too late. I’d been distracted by the manor, and by the original assignment I'd gotten only yesterday. 

I was now in a situation far more dangerous than the one I had signed up for.

In Westley Manor, there was a murderer in our midst.

And apparently . . . I could not run away.