A low humming was the first thing to enter Jacob's ears as he regained consciousness.

Not the humming of an engine or that of a fly's wings. But the humming made by a person to amuse themselves in times of silence.

Along with this humming was the sound of heavy feet consistently meeting the floor as someone or something paced around him at an easy-going rate.

Jacob soon found himself to be slumped over a simple chair.

Oddly enough, he couldn't feel anything restraining him, although he could feel an intense warmth coming from his left.

After listening for a short while, he found that the footsteps would stop periodically, and another noise would occur from the area they had stopped in.

Sometimes it was the clinking of metal, and other times the sound of liquid being sloshed around.

Whatever the case, there was only one move Jacob could reasonably make.

So, he opened his eyes slowly and tried to take in the room around him without alerting his captor.

Unfortunately, he only had mere moments before a voice entered his ears.

It was hoarse, like every word was scraping against its maker's throat, clawing at it in an attempt to avoid being tossed into the outside world.

Despite the voice's efforts to recceed within itself, it was not quiet.

It would be an insult to call such a screech quiet.

It was loud, booming even.

If Jacob had to give a comparison, he would simply drag his fingernails over a chalkboard to demonstrate.

"I see you're awake at last, my dear guest. I do apologise for rendering you immobile, but I thought you were an intruder, and we can't have any of that sort now, can we?" He spoke in a measured tone. Polite, yet condescending.

The contrast between his words and the horrific voice that spoke them only heightened Joacb's already sky-high anxiety.

"All good. No harm done. You can call me Jax, by the way." Jacob replied with joviality, finally getting a look at the man in front of him.

This was the time to demonstrate his one actual skill, the only thing he could really pride himself on compared to his sister.

If there was one thing he was good at it was pulling off a solid poker face and lying his ass off.

Talking to the man finally gave Jacob the chance to take a proper look at his captor in more detail.

The first thing he noticed was his outfit.

A traditional chef's garb was wrapped around the man's surprisingly bulky frame. Complete with full white clothing but missing the comical tall hat that always seemed to accompany it.

This also allowed Jacob to connect the dots and realise that he was in the mansion's kitchen.

The only thing out of place with the chef's outfit was the necklace he wore, made up of a guitar pick with a thin string threaded through a small hole in one of its corners.

The next was his face, or rather his lack of face. It was like someone had gone over his head with magical censorship.

Not the pixilated kind or anything. It was as if, despite looking at him, any distinctive features simply failed to manifest.

Almost like a fog covered his face but without the actual fog.

Despite this, it wasn't as if his face was a blank slate, every part that should be there was perceivable, just not with any accuracy.

'Let's act like a regular houseguest for the moment. This is the only intelligent creature that I've encountered so far that I can communicate with. Not to mention he's not immediately trying to kill me, which means I might be able to get some information if I play my cards right.' After planning his next move, Jacob began his 'interrogation.'

"It's a wond-"

"Of course, whether you're a guest or an intruder remains to be seen. You haven't proven yourself yet, after all". The chef cut him off, smiling in a professional manner before turning and walking to another part of the kitchen.

"Ah, the test, of course. I apologise, but I'm still a little foggy on account of just waking up. Could you refresh my memory?" Jacob quickly inquired as he took further stock of the room.

It was a typical kitchen. Large stoves and metallic countertops for cooking decorated the main area, while dishes, glasses, and cutlery were piled up near a worn sink.

What was more disturbing was the thin but noticeable layer of grime and grease that seemed to cover every surface that once would have sparkled.

He also found the source of the heat to his left to be a large open flame, most likely used for some form of cooking, but since he wasn't a chef Jacob couldn't tell its exact purpose.

The final thing he noticed was the most out of place. An imposing metal door to the offside of the room.

Not because of its construction but because of what adorned it. There were many sheets of paper stuck to the door. Each sheet was occupied by scrawled text and runic symbols in strange patterns.

What struck Jacob as odd wasn't just the out-of-place features of the door but the fact that every other part of the mansion, while most definitely haunted, showed no apparent signs of the occult.

The supernatural creatures made the mansion a terrifying location, but the building and furniture would be relatively normal if they were removed.

For whatever reason, this door was different than the rest of the mansion, making it a clear place to look for clues and potentially one of the 'hands' of the key!

"The test of choice, of course." Replied the chef casually as he turned once again to face Jacob, snapping the inquisitive young man back into focus.

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"One of these cups is poisoned, and the other is regular wine. A real guest would be able to tell which is which" he explained with a grin.

'…Shit' Jacob grimaced. 'So that's what the hint was meant to be for. Well, I'm not tied to the chair, so I still have plan B, aka run like a bitch'.

"Oh, and if you are an intruder, I recommend you attempt the test. After all, you have no chance of escaping me and at least a half chance of getting this correct." The chef further advised cutting off Jacob's favourite backup plan.

"Is the option to take neither available?" Jacob guessed, hoping that maybe the test was to know that both were poisoned.

"No. One of these glasses must be chosen" The chef mercilessly cut his hopes down as quickly as they had sprouted, his eyes narrowing in the process.

"How about two out of three?" Jacob asked, a plan forming in his mind on how to make the best of the situation.

"No. Only one chance is neccesa-"

"Well, that's just not proper." Jacob but the chef off and stated.

"As an individual, I consider myself a distinguished gentleman and a wine connoisseur, and quite frankly I am appalled that you would do such a thing. I have travelled a great distance, over plains and seas, trekked across mountains and ravines, braved deserts and jungles, and I refuse to be treated in such a manner! I have no problem with the ideology of only having one chance to pick the right cup, but if I am to pick the wrong one, then I have a serious problem indeed! The taste of the wine would obviously be marred to the wildest extreme by the poison you so horridly tainted it with, and I absolutely refuse to leave this earth having tasted nothing but the disgusting range of bad wine on my noble tongue."

Jacob spouted, feigning every kind of outrage and indignity he could muster. Putting on his best rendition of a wronged noble.

His logic was that if the chef poisoned all the cups, he wouldn't really care too much about changing the test since Jacob was doomed to fail anyway.

That was why he would probably overlook the fact that Jacob hadn't really even given a reason to taste the wine twice instead of once. All Jacob really wanted to achieve with his rant was to make the chef annoyed enough with him to simply give him what he wanted to shut him up, especially since it wouldn't change the final result.

"FINE. I will lower the dosage so you will barely survive if you pick incorrectly once." The chef stated.

Jacob held his head high to act as if he found the comprise to be barely acceptable, but inside, he was thrilled he had completed the first part of his plan.

"Here." The chef growled as he placed the drinks on a small table next to Jacob's chair.

"Choose."

"But we haven't discussed the most important part, my good man!" Jacob said while smiling.

"What th-"

"My compensation, of course, for when I choose the correct cup!" Jacob stated and smiled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Your compensation is to your life" The chef hissed, his patience on the verge of snapping after hearing this idiotic young man waffle on. His gentlemanly demeanour he had started the interaction with was steadily being eroded by Jaocb's persistent arrogance.

"I don't mean for passing the test. I mean as a way of apologising to me for the rude greeting of knocking me out. After all, when I prove I am, in fact, a proper guest of the house it will mean you irresponsibly and unlawfully attacked a regular guest for no reason other than your own idiotic intuition!" Jacob said, twisting logic on a whim and hoping the chef wouldn't notice.

"Unfortunately, I have nothing to offer other than the wine I am serving you" the chef snapped back.

"Of course you do. All I want is for you to answer a question for each cup I guess correctly." Jacob said, baiting the trap one more.

"FINE" the chef shouted, clearly just wanting the buffoon in front of him to drink the poison and perish already.

"Now that we've sorted that out." Said Jacob as he further inspected the glasses before decisively picking the one on the left.

Then he threw it into the fire.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I SAID YOU MUST DRINK ONE. NOT THROW IT AWAY." The chef shouted, pushing his face up against Jacobs as veins protruded from his forehead.

"No, you didn't. You only mention that a cup had to be chosen, not that I had to drink." Jacob replied smugly.

"As for the outcome of my choice, you can just check the remaining cup for poison, and if there is poison, then I have chosen correctly!" He continued to the annoyance of the chef.

The chef stared at him silently, heaving in air as he held back his anger, unable to find a point to refute.

"Very well, but to be clear, you must DRINK the wine for your next attempt rather than tossing it." The chef conceded, figuring the young man's fate was still sealed.

"Aren't you forgetting that I now have a question to ask?" Jacob reminded him.

"Ask." The chef replied, realising that arguing with this parasite was pointless.

"Why is the freezer sealed?" Jacob asked instantly.

"..." A sudden silence filled the room, even the crackling fire seemed to grow quiet from his question.

The chef was silent for a full 10 seconds before he slowly opened his mouth. A different emotion coloured his voice, not annoyance or professionalism but melancholy.

"It houses the mansion's most prized treasure and its greatest shame." He admitted quietly.

"Now drink" the chef snapped as he returned to his usual self.

"Alright, alrigh-" Jacob cut himself off as he tossed the glass he had grabbed directly into the face of the chef, standing from his chair and turning towards the exit simultaneously.

This was the riskiest part of the plan.

He never had a way to avoid being poisoned, and he figured that if he pulled his earlier trick without making the 2 out of 3 deal, then the chef would have killed him outright for trying to pull one over on him.

The chef had let him live this long because he assumed that Jacob was practically a dead man walking anyway and therefore didn't mind answering his question, which just so happened to be Jacob's other objective.

With a little luck, splashing the wine would give him enough of a head start that he could make it to the door, and hopefully, the chef would be unable to leave the kitchen.

The only reason he believed this was that, so far, each ghost had a distinct 'area' that they were confined to. The darkness was stuck in the hallways, and the cold in the underground power room.

In addition, it seemed like each ghost had specific 'rules' that barred it from attacking directly.

Both had indirect methods of harming Jacob, whether it was the dark or the cold, and even this chef didn't seem to be able to attack him outright.

Of course, Jacob had a hunch that this only applied while he was still playing by the rules.

If, for example, he had tried to break down a door with the darkness ghost or burn the chair with the oil from his lamp to warm himself in the basement they may have been given the freedom to attack him directly.

He just hoped that he was wrong and that it was less a matter of 'not supposed to' and more a matter of 'not able to ' meaning the ghosts physically couldn't interact with the material world unless the condition of him breaking the rules was met.

He could only hope the chef was similarly stuck in the kitchen and that the rules would keep him there long enough to let Jacob get out.

Unfortunately, he didn't get the chance to test the hypothesis as immediately after he stood up to run, a large hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face the enraged chef.

It appeared his 'stun attack' had even less effect than he'd hoped.

"Ahhhh, so you WERE an intruder after all…" The chef whispered sinisterly.

As he spoke, the fog lifted from his face, and Jacob could finally see what lay beneath. His eyes were gone, replaced with holes that held sharply pointed tongues and hideous yellowed and jagged bones, teeth he quickly realised. A horrifying mess of those grotesque teeth sprouted from the chef's face, randomly jotting out from various angles from any and all possible areas.

"I guess I'll be having fresh meat tonight…" The chef said as his face… opened.

Like the blossoming of a flower, the hideous mess of bone and facial features opened to reveal even more of the menacing fangs as well as a long fleshy tongue covered in sharp barbs.

Jacob struggled as the bards of the monstrous tongue reached for his face, desperately punching and pushing the man, trying to pry his fingers off, even biting them at one point.

Nothing worked.

Finally, in his desperation, his fingers randomly snagged the chef's necklace. At this point, he could barely think as the creature's tongue was mere centimetres from his face. In his panic, he grabbed the necklace and pulled.

The sound of the thin string snapping was like thunder. The chef froze and released his grip on Jacob's shoulder, his tongue retreating into his mouth.

Jacob grasped the former guitar pick that he had taken from the chef's neck as he quickly ducked under the monster's arm and dashed for the door.

But even then, the mansion didn't let him off easy.

He was given a final gift as he finally pulled the door open.

A thank you note if you will.

A small sharp object buried itself in his leg, causing him to stumble and fall as he collapsed into the dining room.

But he had made it.

Once again, despite risking his life and coming out worse for wear, he was alive.