Through a window Patsy had most likely unlocked while he had been waiting cold and angry behind the fence, Elmer joined the ginger-haired lady as they made their way into a space he suspected was the mansion’s kitchen. And it did not take long for his guess to be confirmed true as Patsy lit up two candles on their own separate brass candle holders. She gave him one and held the other.

Before him stood a chopping table made of dark wood, and it was so big that even if he stretched his hands fully it would be impossible for them to reach the edges of the table.

He was almost amazed until he saw the three-layered cook stove that hid itself within an alcove brimming with beautiful floral patterns. Now that left him in awe. The orphanage had been using a one-layered cook stove and he knew how expensive that was; he could not imagine the cost of a three-layered cook stove.

“Close your mouth,” Patsy mentioned blandly to Elmer, which in return forced his widened mouth shut.

As she crossed over the long table and walked toward the kitchen’s door, he suddenly called out to her, “Ostrich-lady.”

She clenched her jaw. “It’s Patsy.”

“What am I to do now? Follow you around?” Elmer swept away Patsy’s disclosure of her name for the second time.

“If you want to?” She smiled as the candle light flickered about on her lips, seeming to forget that she had just been correcting him.

“I don’t want to,” Elmer responded plainly.

Patsy tsked. “Do whatever you want then. I already know where what I want is kept. I’ll just head on there, get it, and we’ll be out.

“Sounds easy,” Elmer put in. “No one lives here? Or maybe this place is secretly your second home. Who knows?”

“Funny.” She shrunk her gaze at his extremely laughable joke. “The owner’s not in the city at the moment. I made sure by stalking him.” A grin that showed nothing but satisfaction at one of her many felonious exploits made its way onto her face.

“Then you could have come at it alone, why bring a bodyguard when the house is empty?” Elmer asked curtly.

“His butler is. That one never leaves.” Patsy squeezed her face as she mentioned.

Elmer cocked a brow. “So I’m not here as a bodyguard, but as an announcer to announce the butler’s movements?”

“No,” Patsy turned, seemingly withholding something from Elmer as she pried her eyes away from him and took them to the kitchen’s door instead. “Do whatever you want, just be here when I return, or outside here.” She pointed to the exterior of the kitchen’s door. “The butler’s room is somewhere upstairs, so you don’t have to worry about running into him down here.”

And without any further word, she sauntered quickly and sneakily away from the kitchen, leaving Elmer to be.

The dim, flickering yellow which was dancing atop the candle holder Elmer held, lightened wherever he took them as he gazed about the kitchen space. It did not take him long before he got tired of the silence. It was as though it had been years since he’d stayed in someplace quiet, even though…

I hope she’s not growing on me, that’s some bad growth… Elmer sighed and made his way around the table, a different approach from the barbaric method Patsy had used. He was refined—as refined as a peasant could be—and she was not.

He took his leave of the kitchen and arrived at the mansion’s foyer, and even though his candle light could only brighten a range not too far from him, he could feel the sheer vastness of this hall from where he stood.

Elmer walked further into the foyer, putting his light anywhere he could in order to see what beautiful designs they were done with, and he was anything but disappointed.

The foyer even looked more ravishing than the exterior of the mansion.

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His light first touched the wallpaper that lined the walls for as long as they could go—at least for as long as he could see. The wallpaper was of a rich orange fabric—if he knew exactly what rich was, but this sure looked like one—enameled with the twirls of binded flowers and petals which also ran its length.

Below it stood a table of detailed woodwork, and upon it was a golden candelabra that looked more like an expensive relic than something that should be bearing lighted candles. At least, the one he saw now had no candle on it, so maybe his thoughts were right.

Wouldn’t be so bad having a mansion one day… Elmer leaned in forward at the table, terminating his pause while he slowly put forth his fingers with a mind to touch the exquisitely crafted candelabra. Mabel would like that too… If only she could…

He stopped his thoughts halfway, retracted his fingers, and turned himself around with a drowning smile, hoping to feed his eyes with more of the beauty the mansion had to offer—this time without trying to touch any.

As Elmer crossed the grand rising stairs in the middle of the foyer—which Patsy had probably gone through—something suddenly crashed in the distance with a soft echo, and startled him into a defensive stance as though he was a prey cornered by a predator.

His chest abruptly tightened and his eyebrows creased as frantic thoughts found a way to storm his head wickedly.

What was that sound…? he asked himself, his legs frozen to the spot. Didn’t that just come from… Wait, wait, wait… Wasn’t it upstairs she said? She definitely mentioned upstairs, or was it the butler? No. She said the butler was upstairs as well. Someone else…?

Elmer knew he was not going to get the answers to his questions.

But what else was he to do now in this situation? Run upstairs to look for her? Where would he even start from to find her in a mansion as big as this? And the option to call out her name was out of it, that would only get them caught quicker.

Should he just run away by himself? He shook his head at that thought. That was not to be considered an option.

So what could he do? Was he just going to stand here and wait for whoever that was to come out and make contact with him? Definitely not! And there was no way he was also going to check it out.

For now, hiding seemed to be the best option.

As if to make sure he adhered to that decision, the sound of a door shutting resounded from the same place the crash had come from—a place Elmer now solidified was ways down beneath the stairs.

He immediately blew out his candle light and scurried rat-likely back beneath the walls of the kitchen, hiding himself beside a shelf that stood close to the door. All that remained now was complete silence.

After a little while, Elmer heard the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching, and they were coming so slowly that they made his stomach harden. He flung his clammy hand, the one that was free from holding the candle stand, onto his face, making sure it covered both his mouth and his nose.

This is bad…? Elmer’s face squeezed, turning pallid as tears of sweat suddenly found their way down from beneath his cap and onto his forehead.

The footsteps drew closer and closer, and before he knew it, candle light flickered just outside the door of the kitchen where he was hiding. And then the footsteps stopped.

Elmer’s palm tightened across his face.

Please move forward… Please make whoever that is move forward… he prayed—but who was he praying to? Which God exactly? One of the Gods he despised? A wild dream it was if he believed they would answer the prayers of someone that did not worship them.

His situation was laughable.

Elmer further braced his palm over his face—filling his tongue with the salty taste of his sweat—in hopes that it would stop his agitated breathing from being heard by whoever was standing halfway through the door.

Did the person find out that he was hiding in the kitchen? Could it be that he had left some traces outside? Elmer shook his head softly at the latter thought. There was no way he could have made such a mistake. He did not want to get caught.

Elmer tightened his grip on the candle holder in his right hand, hoping his tenseness would calm down even just a bit. But somewhere within his frightened heart he knew it was just a fleeting hankering as another drop of sweat fell onto his glasses.

Should I run? Should I keep hiding…? Wait! The window. The window is still open. I should be able to make it out, right…?

Elmer let his eyes saccade bemusedly as though he was searching for something he had lost, before he abruptly stopped their movements by pinning them on the slightly opened window just across the awe-gripping chopping table. But his scattered thoughts did not relent nor did they let him relax.

They were doing every other thing than giving him a solid decision that would help his cause, and they now told him that escaping through the window his eyes quivered at in longing was no good as well.

Then what the hell should I—

The footsteps suddenly resumed and whoever was outside the door did not go anywhere that was not the kitchen. The candle light grew brighter, the heavy footsteps grew louder, and the pounding of Elmer’s heart skyrocketed. The person walked in.