Volume 1: The Night When the Iris Withered
In the center of the dining table stood a huge silver candelabra, filled with white candles. The dim, yellowish light shone on the silver tableware, refracting a cold luster and adding an even more eerie atmosphere to the scene.
The dishes were quickly served. The delicate courses, however, failed to arouse any appetite in Irene. She forced herself to pick up the knife and fork, cut a small piece of steak, and put it in her mouth. The taste was not bad, but it felt as if she were chewing wax. As she ate, she carefully observed Sean. He also seemed to have little appetite, just silently cutting the steak and occasionally taking a sip of red wine.
Throughout the dinner, the two hardly communicated at all. Only the faint sounds of the knife and fork clashing echoed in the silent dining room. Irene felt as if she were in a cold tomb, and the sense of suffocation became more and more intense.
Finally, when the dinner was over, Irene let out a sigh of relief. She stood up and was about to leave the dining room when Sean called out to her.
"Olivia, have a drink with me."
His voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of unquestionable authority. Irene hesitated for a moment but still nodded. She knew that she couldn't refuse him, at least not for now.
Sean led her to a study. The study was filled with tall bookshelves, piled high with books. The air was filled with the smell of old paper and leather, creating a oppressive atmosphere. In the center of the study was a large desk, on which there was an exquisite wine cabinet filled with various precious wines.
Sean opened the wine cabinet, took out two crystal glasses, and poured a deep red liquid into them. He handed one glass to Irene, picked up the other himself, walked to the window, and looked out at the dark garden outside.
"Do you like irises?" he suddenly asked, his voice low and calm.
Irene's heart skipped a beat. She knew that irises were Olivia's favorite flowers and also a symbol of the Rockefeller family. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
"Of course. I've always loved irises," she said softly, her tone tinged with a hint of nostalgia.
Sean didn't speak but just silently sipped his wine. After a long while, he slowly said, "Irises are beautiful, but they're also dangerous. Their petals are very sharp and can easily cut people."
Irene's heart was pounding faster and faster. She felt that there was more to Sean's words. Involuntarily, she clenched the wine glass in her hand, her fingertips turning white.
"Do you think I would hurt you?" she asked tentatively.
Sean turned around and looked at her, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile of ambiguous meaning. "I don't know, Olivia. I don't know who you really are."
Irene's heart sank. She knew that Sean didn't fully trust her and that he was still suspecting her identity. Her disguise could be exposed at any moment.
"What exactly are you trying to say?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Sean didn't answer but just silently looked at her. His eyes were filled with complex emotions, including doubt, anger, and a trace of barely perceptible sadness.
"I don't know. Maybe... maybe it's all just my illusion," he murmured to himself, his voice low and hoarse.
He drained the wine in his glass in one gulp, then placed the empty glass on the desk and turned to leave the study. Irene stood there, clenching the wine glass in her hand until her fingertips turned white. She knew that she had been caught up in a huge conspiracy, and she was just a insignificant pawn.
Late at night, the Rockefeller Manor was plunged into silence. Only the whimpering sound of the wind passing through the treetops and the occasional faint noises from the ancient building echoed in the darkness.
Irene lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. The tension and unease from the day surged back like a tide in the stillness of the night. Sean's suspicious gaze, Carl's familiar-looking eyes, and the eerie atmosphere pervading the Rockefeller Manor all filled her with fear and unease.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down, but the image of Olivia kept emerging in her mind, along with that field of blood-colored irises. Olivia's death was like a thorn deeply embedded in her heart, making it impossible for her to let go.
She began to suspect that Olivia's death was not as straightforward as it seemed on the surface but was instead hiding a carefully planned conspiracy. Every corner of the Rockefeller Manor was shrouded in shadows, and every smile concealed a secret.
Suddenly, a slight noise broke the silence. Irene jerked her eyes open and looked around warily. The room was pitch dark, and only the faint moonlight coming through the window allowed her to barely make out the outline of the room.
She held her breath and listened carefully. The noise became clearer and seemed to be coming from outside the window. She quietly got up, walked to the window, and gently drew the curtain aside.
Outside the window was a dark garden. Under the moonlight, the shadows of the roses and Chinese roses looked especially eerie, like monsters with outstretched claws.
Irene observed the garden carefully. Suddenly, she noticed a dark figure flashing among the flowers. Startled, she quickly covered her mouth, not daring to make a sound.
The dark figure moved quickly, as if searching for something. Irene tried hard to make out who or what it was, but she couldn't see the true face of the figure clearly.
It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps the dark figure was here to investigate the cause of Olivia's death. Maybe, he knew some secrets that she didn't.
Irene decided to go out and take a look. She quietly opened the door, left the room, and walked downstairs along the corridor.
The corridor was pitch dark, and only the faint moonlight coming through the windows illuminated the floor. Irene walked carefully, afraid of making any noise.
She reached the downstairs area, opened the door, and stepped into the garden. The air in the garden was damp and cold, carrying a smell of decay.
Irene looked around, trying to find the dark figure. Suddenly, she heard a low whimpering sound, which seemed to be coming from the depths of the flowerbed.
Startled, she quickly followed the sound. She pushed aside the thick branches and leaves and finally saw the dark figure.
The figure was curled up on the ground, holding its head and making low whimpering sounds. Irene stepped closer and was surprised to find that the dark figure was actually... Sean!
He was wearing a thin nightgown, barefoot, with messy hair and a pale face. His body was trembling slightly, as if he was suffering great pain.
"Sean, what's wrong with you?" Irene asked quickly, her voice full of concern.
Sean looked up at her, his gray-blue eyes filled with fear and despair.
"Don't come near! Stay away from me!" he roared, his voice hoarse and trembling.
Irene was taken aback and quickly stopped in her tracks. She didn't know what had happened to Sean, but she could feel that he was going through some terrible ordeal.
"What's wrong with you? Tell me, maybe I can help you," she said softly, trying to soothe his emotions.
Sean shook his head and closed his eyes in pain. "You can't help me. No one can help me. It's all over. It's all over..."
He murmured to himself, his voice getting lower and lower until it was lost in the whimpering sounds. Irene stood there, at a loss. She didn't know what to do to help Sean get out of his pain.
She knew that Sean must be hiding a huge secret in his heart, and this secret might be related to Olivia's death.
She decided that she must find out this secret, even if it meant going against the Rockefeller family. She was no longer just seeking revenge. She also wanted to help Sean, to uncover the truth, and to end this class game woven with lies.
The midnight fright was just the beginning. Next, there would be a more brutal whirlpool of blood-colored irises intertwined with lies. She had to be more careful and more determined to survive in this game and to find the real answers.