The Sixth Floor

Chapter 10: The Button's Revelation

Bastian von Roth forcefully takes Nate into an old room in his mansion and instructs him to stay there until morning. In the dimly lit confines of the old room, Nate stood, his senses heightened by the tense encounter with Bastian von Roth. The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken threats, each moment stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. The flickering candlelight danced along the walls, casting elongated shadows that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

The room itself exuded an aura of neglect, its walls adorned with faded tapestries that whispered of bygone eras. Dust motes danced in the beams of light, adding to the sense of isolation that permeated the space. The creaking floorboards beneath Nate's feet echoed with each hesitant step, a haunting reminder of the passage of time.

As Nate's gaze swept across the room, his mind raced with a tumult of thoughts and emotions. Fear mingled with curiosity, uncertainty with determination. He knew that he was on the precipice of a revelation, yet the path ahead remained shrouded in darkness.

With a heavy sigh, Nate resigned himself to the solitary vigil that lay before him. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each minute dragging by like an eternity. And as he waited in the oppressive silence, Nate could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, that unseen eyes followed his every move with a sense of malevolent intent.

In the oppressive stillness of the room, Nate's movements seemed to echo loudly against the walls, the sound reverberating like a somber symphony. Each rustle of fabric and creak of floorboard pierced the silence, disrupting the eerie calm that enveloped him.

Seeking out a change of clothes amidst the dusty relics of a bygone era, with a hesitant hand, Nate reached out to the closet, its door groaning protest as he pulled it open. Inside lay a collection of garments, their once-vibrant colors faded to muted shades by the passage of time. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light that filtered through the cracks, lending an ethereal quality to the scene.

As Nate's fingers brushed against the coarse textures of wool and cotton, he felt a pang of nostalgia for a life he had never known. The clothes seemed to hold the whispers of past occupants, their stories woven into the very fabric of their being.

With painstaking care, Nate sifted through the garments, his movements slow and deliberate. Each piece held the potential to unravel the mysteries of the past, to shed light on the secrets that lurked within the shadows.

In the dim light of the closet, Nate's fingers danced over the assortment of garments, each touch a tentative exploration into the unknown. As he navigated through the array of fabric, his senses heightened, attuned to every subtle shift in texture and weight.

Then, like a bolt from the blue, Nate's hand alighted upon a familiar sensation-a fabric he had encountered before, one that stirred a deep-seated unease within him. His heart quickened its pace, a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he realized the gravity of his discovery.

With a hesitant breath, Nate grasped the overcoat, its material yielding beneath his touch yet carrying a weight that seemed to press down upon him with an almost palpable force. The garment seemed to pulse with an energy all its own, its presence a tangible reminder of the secrets it harbored.

As Nate held the overcoat aloft, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding more than just a piece of fabric-he was cradling a key to unlocking the mysteries that had haunted him for so long. With each passing moment, the weight of the garment in his hands grew heavier, its significance casting a shadow over the room that seemed to stretch on into infinity.

As Nate's eyes trailed down the front of the overcoat, his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. Each button seemed to glint malevolently in the dim light, a silent witness to the sinister secrets that lay buried within the fabric. It was the row of buttons that mirrored the very button Inspector Maximilian Reinhardt had shown him earlier, that was in Savannah's hand when she died.