Savannah had followed her brother “Armand”—she thought it best to think of him that way to help stay in character—upstairs toward the music room, approaching the strains of a masterfully played harpsichord. Up the sweeping, elegant staircase to the second floor, then to the immediate right, the music room. At the harpsichord was seated an elderly woman tagged with the name Cousin Delphine Delacroix. She resembled a crow made of milky porcelain, pale, translucent skin, with a sharp, prominent nose, angular features, and beady gray eyes, hair piled into an elaborate beehive coiffure.

Cousin Delphine did not pause in her playing, only barely glanced at them.

The window overlooked the front grounds and the cobblestone walk before the entrance. The walls were sheathed in tattered, sea-green wall paper, curling at the corners, printed in shapes so faded she couldn’t grasp them. Armand’s fingers on hers were cold and limp.

The backstory Savannah had been given was cringey as hell. Her character, Anastasia, and Anastasia’s twin brother, Armand, were on the verge of their coming-of-age, when all the family’s secrets would be revealed, in a few days, but this unpleasantness with the theft had crimped Gilbert’s preparations. The ceremony would be held on the new moon, regardless of any obstacles, so the whole family was quite insistent that the missing family diamond be found and this business settled beforehand.

Anastasia and Armand had grown up on this island with only each other for playmates. They were steadfastly forbidden from fraternizing with any locals beyond the occasional sojourn to town for supplies. As a result of their isolation, their only hopes for romance had been…with each other, so they sometimes treated it as an amusement, a game. And the family seemed more amused than upset by it, which made Savannah cringe.

Gilbert, Delphine, and Renard often went on at length about the family’s decline in fortunes, how many servants they used to have, how magnificent the mansion had been in its heyday.

The piece of music Delphine was playing was one Savannah didn’t recognize, but Anastasia most certainly did. It was a sonata Delphine herself had written many years ago, an oddly dissonant piece that was far from pleasant, as if it were challenging the listener for how long they would endure it without squirming, and then suddenly it shifted from this brooding, minor-key slog into a light and airy baroque gavotte. The transition was as abrupt as a record-scratch. I guess that’s why Cousin Delphine never made it into the Buckboard Top 40 Countdown, Savannah thought.

When Delphine ended her sonata with a flourish, her thin lips peeled back, and her face became all yellowed teeth. “Good day, children. I trust you are well and hearty in preparation for the ceremony tomorrow night?”

“Oh, is that tomorrow night?” Armand said. “I had forgotten entirely. Sister and I have been working on a play.”

Savannah’s lines flashed into her vision. “Oh, yes, Cousin. It’s delightful fun. It is called The Prince and Princess of the Forgotten Isle.”

“Indeed, well, my old fingers have gotten stiff, I’m afraid I—”

The door behind Savannah opened, and the twenty-something nerd, James “the Magician-al” paused in the entry. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Savannah said, “Of course not.”

You find him handsome and intriguing, just the sort of dalliance you’ve been yearning for. Besides, it will make Armand deliciously jealous.

As an actor, she appreciated straight-forward direction on the first day. She could get creative later.

She took a step toward the player. “Oh, do come in. I would love to show you around.”

“You would?” he said with a goofy grin.

“Oh, most assuredly,” she said, clasping her hands and using Ye Olde Squeezing the Breasts Together technique. She couldn’t tell from his avatar, but she guessed he was somewhat younger than he looked. He looked in his late twenties, cultured, educated, not unhandsome, but a little frazzled, like someone who wants to see too much, a man seeking the Abyss.

Right on cue, Armand stepped forward, “But, sister—”

“Tut tut, dear brother. We must be hospitable, mustn’t we? Mr. Magician-al, allow me to introduce our dear cousin, Delphine Delacroix. Cousin Delphine, Mr. Magician-al is here to investigate the disappearance of our beloved family diamond.”

Delphine stood up from the harpsichord. “I’m well aware.” She circled the instrument toward them. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Magician-al.” She moved like she was corset cinched around an axe handle, and looked down her nose at the player as if he were gum on the bottom of her shoe.

“Likewise, uh, Ms. Delacroix,” the player said. Savannah checked the stat bar floating in the air above his head. His name was James.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Delphine said, “I’m in the midst of composing a new piece, and must attend to that in private.”

“Thanks, uh, great. Uh, I hope it turns out well.”

“It will change the world,” Delphine said with great conviction as she swept from the room.

“Wow, she’s a little intense,” James said.

“An apt description,” Savannah said. “Brother, would you care to join me in showing our guest around the house?”

He frowned. “I have some things to do to prepare for the ceremony. If you’ll excuse me.” He glared at her, then brushed threateningly close to James as he left the room.

“What the hell kind of a family is this?” James muttered to himself, but of course she could hear him.

She smiled and took his arm, avoiding addressing his comment to avoid making him feel awkward. “So, I give you the music room!” She gestured with a flourish.

“I see that.” He glanced at her and blushed.

Savannah smiled at him broadly. Anastasia’s features resembled Savannah’s but in a washed-out, lily-white way. Savannah’s natural hair was flaming red, and a sprinkling of freckles graced her nose, with a touch of cowboy leather to her personality, and Anastasia was a creature of porcelain, marble, and lace.

James looked around the room, studying it, and she guessed he was probably skill-checking for hidden clues, so she gave him a moment to do that. He cleared his throat and said, “You a seriously impressive house, Anastasia.”

“Oh, do call me ‘Annie.’” She had just made that up. It wasn’t in the character profile. How much latitude with the character would the game system give her?

“Sure thing, Annie,” he said. “That’s a beautiful—uh, a great name.”

“So, what would you like to see next?”

“One sec.”

He crossed the room and examined the yellowed sheaf of music that Delphine had been playing. He paused with a brief double-take. “Uh, how old is Delphine anyway?”

Her HUD gave her no information, forcing her to respond. “I cannot say, exactly. Why?”

“This sheet music was published in 1792. That’s the date right here. And the composer is listed as Delacroix, Delphine.”

She circled the harpsichord and looked at the music. “That is very odd. Surely she cannot be over a century old.”

Steer him from the room before he asks any more questions.

She went on, “Come, let me show you around.”

“Okay,” he said. “Lead the way, madame.”