Brice Manor

16. Tints And Pallets

The night was dark and still, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. The moon, full and bright, hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow over the Brice Estate. On the third floor of the small manor, a particular room lay in darkness, its curtains drawn tightly shut. Despite the moonlight's best efforts to filter inside, its beams bounced off the windowpane as if some form of warding prevented it from entering.

Outside, a man stood in the shadows, watching the room with a sly grin on his face. He shook his head in amusement, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and malice. "What a gullible woman," he murmured to himself, relishing in the thought of her falling for the deception. They were fools, all of them. The man glanced at a tent near him, "even you, Jasper," the man mumbled.

As he watched the moonlight fail to penetrate the room, he knew that the plan was working perfectly.

With a wry smile, the man vanished into the night. The moon continued to shine, its light casting a serene and peaceful glow over the estate. But within that one room, a darkness had descended, a shadow of lies and deceit that would soon consume everything and everyone within the walls of the Manor.

***

Pier released her from their hug. Then he extended his hand towards Emily's, his fingers delicately intertwined with hers, and led her towards a nearby cabinet. He opened it with a smooth motion, revealing the forgotten items that lay within. The notepad, pen, and sticky notes, left behind in the room the night before, were retrieved with care and presented to Emily with a gentle gesture.

"Start recording," Pier instructed in a low and steady voice, his eyes fixed upon her with a sense of determined purpose. Emily's lips curled into a soft smile, her gaze meeting Pier's with a sense of calm assurance.

But then, with a sudden spark of inspiration, Emily's demeanor shifted. "I have a better idea. There's a better way to record this," she spoke with quiet confidence, her tone rich with knowledge and authority. Then her eyes darted about until she finally caught a glimpse of her flashlight. Swiftly bending down to retrieve it, she left the room with a parting remark to Pier, imploring him to remain where he was.

Pier watched her go, his brow furrowed with confusion and curiosity. His mind raced with questions, wondering what Emily had in mind. He knew that things had changed, that there were new methods for recording information, but he couldn't quite grasp what she was thinking.

Without a hint of trepidation, Emily descended the staircase and proceeded through the corridors to her quarters. Nestled safely within the confines of her room, Emily retrieved her camera and laptop and returned to the third floor, excited by the prospect of saving her job and getting revenge.

As she entered, a sleek and modern device in her hand, "Things have changed, you know," she said with a knowing smile, her words ringing with truth. "There are better ways to record," she added, her voice filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Pier's frown slowly dissipated, replaced with a sense of understanding. Emily must have deduced that he knew nothing of the modern age.

Soon Emily began to work.

Pier silently observed as Emyli's gaze fixed on the wallpaper. He smiled, "I painted these with my bare hands, you know," he said to her. The sight of her widened eyes made him chuckle. "I had quite the talent," he whispered, stroking the wallpaper.

Emily let out a laugh. "And a bit conceited," she added.

Pier raised an eyebrow. "I'm merely stating the facts," he said, his tone tinged with confusion as if he genuinely couldn't fathom why Emily would say that.

She couldn't help but chuckle again. Pier seemed to have a bit of a narcissistic side to him, but she didn't mind. She had met people like him before. "What did you use?" she asked, changing the topic. "Use for what?" Pier questioned.