She furrowed her brows, tapping the tip of her cane against the slate before clearing her throat. The butler beside her just nodded, carrying a folded serviette hanging on his left arm as if he was in a hurry to assist her. Perhaps his great-aunt held a deep respect for the way she managed the Hawthornes' affairs, which was what Liam thought about.

She cleared her throat. Liam and Anton looked at her, their hearts beating a little too loudly in the quiet. She said, “Well… she's not my niece to begin with,” which stunned Liam in disbelief. Speechless, he thought, Is my mother an adopted daughter by the Charles Family? Sadly, he felt nothing about his mother’s family tree. His eyes cast down, feeling a weight being lifted off his chest. 

She noticed his silence, thinking about what made him hate his mother the most. “Anyway, you’re still part of the Charles’ Family, and I don’t meddle in my distant family affairs.” She turned her back on them, adding, “I’m too old for that. Come along, you lads, I’ll show you and your driver your respective rooms.” She walked with her cane, but stopped midway before reaching the door, ushered by the butler. “And…my name is Rosie Charles Bennet, the estate manager of this mansion, but just call me Aunt Rosie from now on.” Her eyes were piercing, but her tone sounded polite. 

Liam smiled, dipping his head. “Yes, Aunt Rosie, thank you for welcoming us here,” he spoke politely. She just cleared her throat. She was a woman who spoke less but was direct. Anton and Liam strolled toward the stone steps leading to the entrance door, where she waited. It was partly cloudy as a gentle breeze moved through, carrying the stillness of a day. 

Rosie Charles Bennet was the Hawthornes’s Estate Manager. She was in her sixties with her hair tied into a neat bun, with visible wrinkles on her face, especially around her eyes. She was tall and slim. Her office dress was a high-waisted apparel of muted fabric, cut with careful restraint like those worn in the early 19th century. Anton’s impression of her was of a woman who had endured much in her life before finally earning the recognition she deserved. 

Gazing quietly, Anton and Liam’s eyes widened in astonishment at the grandeur of the mansion’s interior. The butler closed the front door quietly, bowing slightly to Rosie, who looked back at him, dipping her head to leave them. They were standing beneath a classic chandelier, its light spilling like a frozen gold above their heads. 

Wow, were Liam and Anton’s captivating thoughts. Rosie came forward at them, as they gazed upon the polished floors and stairs in front of them. “Welcome to the Hawthornes' Mansion,” she softly said. Liam looked at her. He felt uneasy at her silence, her brows narrowing slightly. Anton glanced to his left, into a hallway, wondering where it might lead. 

“Before I show you around, there are a few unspoken rules in this mansion,” Aunt Rosie said calmly, looking at them nonchalantly. Yet in Liam and Anton’s ears, it felt something peculiar. Or rather, it felt eerie that the wind inside the mansion became cold. 

Why does she sound spooky to me? Liam thought in silence. He looked at Anton, who shrugged his shoulders, holding the four-wheel luggage’s handle in both hands. 

She tapped the tip of her cane against the polished floor, the sound echoing through the first floor as though it were meant to hush away things beyond their sight. It frightened Liam. Anton strolled beside him, thinking something strange was happening in the mansion that might not welcome them freely. He gulped quietly. 

Aunt Rosie faced them while her back was turned to the shiny stairs, its well-carved balusters rising behind her. Liam seemed to be feeling uneasy when Anton gave him a soft nudge on his left arm. He looked at Anton, who smiled, as if telling him that they’ll be safe. 

“One, there are three floors in this mansion. If you wish to use the library on the third floor, you must request assistance from the butler. His name is Ronald, so don’t forget that.” She sounded strict. 

The space between them was so quiet that they could hear their own hearts beating. Aunt Rosie’s voice seemed to steady their thoughts—at least for a moment—or perhaps not. That was what Liam had been feeling for a while now. Not that he felt afraid or believed in such ghost stories. It felt more like a warning—not to touch things as they pleased. 

“Second, the second and third floors have rooms that are forbidden to enter. You will see it when I show you around after this,” she added, clearing her throat. Liam and Anton exchanged a quiet glance at each other, then looked at Aunt Rosie, dipping their heads in silence. 

“Lastly, whatever you are doing in or out of this mansion, you must be back in your room before midnight, and never leave before dusk.” She said calmly. “Your designated room has a bell, so if you need to go to the loo, ring the bell three times in front of the door before you leave, and never forget to bring the candelabra with you. Do you understand?” she added with a strict expression. But their silence made her think that she was trying to scare them on their first day in the estate. She sighed. 

“I’m not saying these to scare you,” she said, locking eyes with Liam, whose eyes looked stunned. Then she shifted her glance at Anton’s nervous gaze, adding, “This is Hawthorne's way of warning people who wander in the mansion without consent.” She turned to face the stairs, then glanced at them to her right. “Then, shall I guide you to your room?” she spoke firmly.