Charles clutched the thin piece of paper tightly in his hands, looking up at the large, metal gates which stood before him. The bars of steels were painted with a solid coat of black with gilded spikes lining the top, encaged by two crosspieces running below the gold. Beyond the gate lay a large stretch of grass and bushes populated by the occasional tree or shrub, encompassing a large manor. The grand house had two rows of windows spanning across the entire house, interrupted by an odd pillar, balcony or door. The road which Charles stood on fed beneath the gate, cutting through the green lawn and straight into the front entrance of the manor. To the side of the rocky road was a man carefully cutting a shrub with a pair of loppers, moulding its shape expertly into a uniform complexion in-line with the others. Charles tapped at the metal gate, catching the worker’s attention.

“Excuse me, is this the Smith Hill House?” Charles inquired.

The man paused, before slowly turning his head towards the new-comer who had just arrived, equipped with only a hat and a singular briefcase. His shoes were polished nicely and shirt was recently ironed, causing him to emit a professional aura.

“Um, is this the Smi-”

“Yes. Yes it is. I heard you the first time; who are you and why are you here?” the man asked with a tinge of audible annoyance.

“Oh, I’m Charles, and I am here because I heard that you were hiring more staff and I was wondering if you could direct me to the appropriate place I need to go…”

The man’s expression turned slightly sourer, but still reluctantly yielded to Charles’ request and produced a large keychain from his back pocket, shaking it around whilst skimming through each key with his finger. The man picked one out and inserted it into a concealed hole on the opposite side of the gate, causing a great clanging of metal mechanisms to shift and move around, opening the gate up with the assistance of the worker. He indicated to Charles to follow him, to which Charles obliged, tailing the man to the entrance of the house.

When the two made it to the foot of the manor, the door suddenly burst open and a head stuck out from the building.

“Hello there Charles, I’m assuming you’re here for the job?” The person spoke in a slightly pitched up voice which matched his younger appearance and shorter figure.

Charles nodded.

“Right then, sorry for the bad first impression Chris left on us, but I assure you, most of us aren’t as moody as him. I’m Harry, the guy who does most of the admin work in this stupidly large house. Hector is waiting for you and I suggest that you don’t stall too much,” Harry chirped. “Just go up the main stairs and take a right! Well then, welcome to the Smith Hill House, I wish you luck with your interview.”

Charles stepped into the large manor, engulfed by the soft yellow lightning from the interior. Extravagant paintings and decorations lined the walls like an 18th century palace from France, quite a divergence from the classic English exterior, thought Charles. He stuck with the directions Harry had given him, going up a large set of white-red stairs and then taking a left turn, where at the end, Charles was greeted by a set of double doors, both following the manor’s decoration standards by boasting ornaments and outlines which cluttered the white surface of the entryway. Charles lifted the door knocker and banged the sturdy ring against the heavy, wooden surface twice, creating a deep clashing noise which echoed throughout the large halls.

Beyond the door, Charles heard a voice: “Come in.” The instruction was sounded in a very dry and rough voice. The origin of the voice was revealed when Charles pushed against the heavy doors, exposing a large, well-lit room which sat against three enormous windows. Two rows of bookcases flanked the walls of the chamber with a grand desk positioned at the centre, oriented towards the door. Documents were neatly folded onto isolated tables which accompanied the bookshelves, each bearing a lamp or set of stationary. Behind the main counter was another man, looking to be in his mid-forties though appeared quite healthy. He had a thick, well-cut beard which hid his chin and a portion of his neck, extending up to his temples, cut off from his face by permanent wrinkles which had engraved themselves into the man’s expression.

With a deep breath, Charles entered the room. The man behind the desk remained unmoving except for his jaw.

“Welcome Charles to the Smith Hill Residence. I assume you are here for the job listing I have put up.”

“Yes, indeed I have.” Charles said, attempting to sound as firm and confident as possible. The man behind the desk tilted his head up slightly, banishing the shadows which obscured his hazel eyes. The stern look still hardened the man’s face.

“I am Hector, the current head of this residence. Now, I suppose you have already read the requirements, right?”

“Yes-sir.”

“Did you start off with an academic pursuit initially?”

“No-sir.”

Hector fell silent for a bit. He was staring at a few sheets of paper scattered across his desk, each illuminated by a large chandelier above. Several books were also stacked on the sides of a desk, alongside an old, whirring device and a round, glowing paperweight.

After an awkward few seconds, Hector responded: “Looks good. Harry will lead you to your room.” Charles exhaled in relief, though he suppressed the sigh in order to maintain his falsified calm-demeanour. He exited the room, perspiration cladding his forehead, quickly drying off from the relief that Charles felt.

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“How was it?” Harry said, seemingly materialising behind Charles after he had closed the doors. “He can come off as a bit intimidating, but I assure you, Hector’s actually really nice.” Charles doubted this statement.

“It went fine, Hector said that you would take me to my room.”

“Ah, right. Just follow me Charles.” The two started to travel down the long hallway, towards their destination. “So, do you know what we do?” Charles shook his head. “Right, we take… commissions - any kind of commissions really. That’s all you really need to know. Our last concierge left because of family reasons, so now you’re here. A few things: the mailman comes twice a week, and the janitors have a day off on Wednesdays, so just fill in then. Maps will be provided, just remind me later when we get to your room.” The pair turned another corner, where Harry stopped and produced a keychain which looked similar to the gardener's, except that it hung significantly more keys, partitioned into several rings with tags and labels attached to them. Harry selected a seemingly arbitrary key and inserted it into the keyhole of a door on their right and twisted twice, emitting a metallic clunk sound. The door yielded, showing the room behind.

The interior of the room followed the same style the rest of the manor had, though it was furnished with more modern appliances. The initial room was a spacious living room fitted with a sofa, television and other commodities. Two more rooms were connected, one leading to the bathroom and the other to a bedroom where Charles lay down the little luggage he had.

“All the essential needs will be provided by us. Just meet me downstairs at the entrance in the morning, sounds good?”

Charles nodded. Harry left. The evening passed by with Charles washing himself, after which he helped himself to a sandwich which another employee had given to him at six. The deliverer seemed to look significantly older than any of the other employees, though just like Hector, seemed in very good shape. He was polite and constantly spoke formally, despite Charles’ suggestion to switch to a lower register of speech. The sandwich’s taste was also excellent, apparently made by the lone chef of the manor - the lone aspect seeming to be a recurring trend amongst the employees: there was only one gardener, manager, head or cook. It seemed as if Charles was destined to join their ranks.

The night passed by quickly, the morning knocking on Charles’ curtains rudely with a violent flood of golden sunlight. Charles woke up from his slumber, rising from his recently-acquired bed and got ready for his first day, equipping the attire provided by his employment. The clothing fit Charles extremely well - each cuff and collar having the perfect radii to hold itself right in place, despite the fact that he had never provided any anthropometric measurements on himself when applying for this job. Strange thought Charles.

He heard a sudden rap at his room’s door, to which he opened. Charles was greeted by Harry, who had adorned himself with his usual pleasant personality.

“Have you had a nice night?” Harry inquired upon their third greeting.

“It was great, thank you. I appreciated Simon giving me the sandwich last night and I commend the quality of the meat which Jerome has given.” Charles responded.

“You see? I told you, most of the people here are generally nice! I’ll pass on your gratitude to both Simon and Jerome - nice that they’ve given themselves a good first impression on you.”

“Appreciated.”

“Regardless… Hector has told me that you’ve done this kind of work before, and seeing your previous experiences, you should be good to go after I show you around a bit. Alright, just follow me.” Harry led Charles around the large manor, weaving in between large columns, great galleries, random lockers and questionable room layouts. By the end of the session, Charles felt his head throb from the mountain of information which Harry had dumped onto him. “So that’s our house in a nutshell, Charles. I hope you’ve got that down.” concluded Harry. “It may be a lot right now, but it should rub onto you eventually.”

Charles doubted Harry once more.

“Your office should be by the foyer which we passed by just a minute ago. Use your map if you’re lost and I wish you good luck Charles,” Harry said, departing from their tour, leaving him by his new workplace.

The office which Charles had inherited from the previous employee was smaller than most of the other rooms in the house, but still fitted a considerable number of file cabinets, tables and chairs. It had a window which gave Charles a direct line of sight of the entrance with overhead blinds attached for privacy. The room neighbouring Charle’s office was the security office, normally handled by his co-worker Aiden, who seemed to be absent most of the time. Charles sat on his swivelling office chair which faced the glass window. He rummaged through a drawer below the desk beside the chair, running his hands through the items, where he found an old book to read during his free time - which was now. Charles had plenty of time to kill, seeing as he was quite rapid at sorting mail and documents, only disrupted by the infrequent requests for his help from Percy - the janitor of the manor - or Simon visiting him for any number of reasons. When the streaming sunlight pouring from the window ceased, Charles got up and headed for his room, visiting Harry to drop off some reports and Jerome - the chef - for his dinner. He then slept the day away after completing his nightly chores. This cycle repeated on for a week, the days elapsing quickly as Charles adjusted to his new work life. The employment was often monotonous, but the interactions with the other staff and the food were all great, leaving Charles content with his position. The singular week morphed into two, then three, then eventually into a month. During this time, Charles kept up his work, putting great effort into his job. Despite the passage of time, he still seemed to be uninformed of the inner workings of the house, regardless of any inquiries he made to the other staff members. The manor appeared to be very tight-lipped around these matters. Over time, Charles had amassed quite a lot of suspicion towards the manor, Staff seemed to randomly disappear without notice, only to reappear once more after a few days as if nothing had happened. Doors would magically materialise one day, then vanish without a trace after a few more. Electronics and mechanical devices seemed to malfunction far more often than Charles had expected, causing him to have to replace many of his possessions numerous times.

The strange month had dented Charles’ performance slightly, but he resisted the urge to try and investigate. Curiosity kills the cat Charles concluded, as he turned away from a large white door which had appeared beside his room. It had been exactly one month and two days since he had first started residing within the manor, in which time, he had gotten familiar with the staff and the general layout of the house. Charles sat on his chair, looking out of the other window which faced the outside world. The sun was high above in the sky, spilling its blinding light across the green, outside lawns.

Suddenly, there was a knock-on Charles’ door.

“Morning Charles,” said Harry, once the door was opened. “How are you doing?”

Charles was slightly surprised at Harry’s appearance, but eased. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Great! You’ve settled in well, right?”

“Yup.”

“Awesome, so how is it? Easy? Hard? Enjoyable?”

“It’s been good and a bit interesting at times.”

“Brilliant. Well then, now that you’re basically one of us, let me give you a few things:” Harry pulled out a smartphone from his back pocket and handed it over to Charles. “It’s got our contact details saved onto it already. Use it as you please.”

“Thanks.” Replied Charles.

“Well then, I hope today goes smoothly as ever,” Harry pivoted away from Charles and took a step towards the door before stopping abruptly. “Oh right…” He faced Charles once more: “I forgot to give you something else.” Harry reached for an inner pocket in his jacket, pulling out a black handgun and handed it over to Charles, grip-first.

“Wait, you’re giving me a gun?” Charles was taken aback by the sudden gift presented to him.

“It’s… customary for us to do so…” Harry replied with a slight hesitation. “Mainly for… emergencies, last resort, when all goes wrong.”

Charles stared sternly at Harry with a mixture of concern and shock.

“I mean, you’ve handled one of these before… right?”

Charles did not reply, but doubtfully took the gun, maintaining his strict glare.