The Invitation
A good mystery is like an opulent wine you can’t resist tasting.
It entices you with its tantalizing aroma, making it feel like your life depends on savoring its silky flavor. Then, it traps you in its aromatic soul, demanding answers.
It’s like that itch you need to scratch that stays constantly out of reach.
At least, that has always been how mysteries felt to me. They were whole new worlds I needed to explore to understand better how they worked and how the different flavors of who they were fit together. I was always the one to shed light on something most people would have preferred to push away into the darkest corner of their attics and hope for someone else to come and deal with it.
However, ever since I was a little boy, I couldn’t resist being the light bringer, being that one person who had to discover who stole the last cookie, if Jeremy really cheated on the test, or even if Mrs. Granger was a shapeshifter who secretly turned into a cat at night like my friends believed (unfortunately just a myth perpetuated by those who didn’t have better things to do than make up ridiculous stories).
Why am I telling you all this?
So that you understand that when I first heard of Mystery on the Estate, an immersive escape game set in an old Victorian house, I HAD to take part in it. That wasn’t an opportunity I could let pass me by because it was a dream come true.
I was more excited about the prospect than a child on their first school day. There was even a spring to my step as I organized my costume to fully immerse myself in the game.
How was I to guess all my dreams would mutate into the most terrifying nightmare? Who could have predicted that such things would happen in real life as well?
Truth be told, if I had been a better detective, maybe I could have seen it coming, but as it was, it came as quite a shock to me, as well as to the other unfortunate souls who were hoping for a fun weekend out but got so much more than what they had bargained for.
Confused?
Let me start from the beginning.
That morning, I was a step away from uncovering the Newspaper Thief when something caught my eye. It was a fancy-looking envelope with my name written in golden letters. That was the first thing that caught my eye, as I wasn’t the type of guy to receive that kind of mail, and at first, I thought it must have been delivered to me by mistake. After all, who could use that elegant and posh writing style to address me? I was just a regular guy, no one special.
Still, I carried the pristine-looking envelope to my dingy apartment as my curiosity piqued.
Imagine my awe and delight when I opened the envelope and found a beautifully written invitation inviting me to the Edgeriver Estate to solve the riddle of the supposedly haunted mansion. At first, I was impressed that they were addressing me and that they knew who I was. But then I realized I was a member of so many online and offline detective clubs that it made sense for some organizers to know me by name.
“Hey, Dereck, dude, you know what happened?” I immediately called up my pal Dereck to brag about my luck.
If only I knew what awaited me.
“What’s up?” Dereck said sleepily.
These days, Dereck was always sleepy. What with the new job and a newborn!
“I got an invite to an estate mystery escape type of thing,” I shared enthusiastically.
“Good for you,” Dereck replied sleepily. “Are you trying to drag me into another one of your crazy detective adventures?”
“No, man, just bragging,” I said proudly. “This is an invitation-only type of thing, and you were not invited.”
“Great,” Dereck said, sounding barely awake. “I hope you won’t wear that lousy Sherlock Holmes outfit you love.”
“Why not?” I asked quickly, dropping that very outfit that I was considering slipping on as soon as I was done talking with Dereck.
“It’s lame, that’s why,” Dereck said through yet another yawn. “And don’t get yourself in trouble again.”
“Oh, come on, that happened one time!” I cried out, exasperated. “How was I to know the police would stop me on my way to the Escaparium and assume that the fake blood I was covered in was real?”
“I swear to God that weird stuff only happens to you,” Dereck said tiredly. “Just be careful out there and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Sure thing,” I said confidently. “After all, how much trouble could one get into in the countryside in the middle of nowhere?”
The correct answer to that question is a lot of trouble. More than I had ever seen in my entire life.
My underwhelming conversation with Dereck finished; I went on to choose a different detective outfit for my once-in-a-lifetime experience. Then, I fixed my messy hair more stylish fashion. Yet, it didn’t matter much because I also donned my fedora hat, ready for the adventure, not even minding the strange looks people were giving me on my way to the car. They were just too simple and couldn’t understand style, even if it was tied to a brick and thrown at their face.
Even now, I can’t honestly tell you if the drive there was a very short or a very long one as I only automatically followed the map drawn on the back of the invitation in an old-fashioned way that spoke to my fancy as most of the things these days were done in such a clinical and modern way, losing all their appeal in the process, lost in the daydreams of what the place would be like. I was excited more than words could describe as the mystery has been woven into the fabric of my being ever since I could remember, for all of these long thirty-five years of my life.
Before I knew it, I was there, and oh boy, oh boy…
Even at first glance, it looked so much better than anything I could have imagined, especially since I was doing my best to keep my hopes low because some of these detective-themed events turned out to be jokes in the past and not real, immersive experiences. But this place was on another level. Before me, an actual Victorian estate stood proudly, barely chipped by the tooth of time.
As I was driving toward the house, I could see an enormous garden adorned with many perfectly shaped hedges placed at the same distance from each other, interspersed with rows of stunning, well-kept flowers that brightened up my day. Every flower patch seemed to have been built in a perfectly symmetrical shape, and all of them worked wonderfully together. In the middle of it all was a large circle at the center of which stood an old-fashioned fountain that, even from a distance, seemed to be more of a work of art than your run-of-the-mill fountain.
And the mansion…
Oh boy, was the mansion huge!
It stood there proudly like a veteran who fought in many wars but persevered. It had earned some wounds in the process, but those tiny imperfections didn’t damage its beauty and elegance.
From what I could see from outside, it was huge, with three floors and who knows how many rooms, balconies, windows, and so on. It was a proper large Victorian house whose walls were embraced by greenery I couldn’t identify, not being as knowledgeable in the plants department as I was in some of the other areas.
As I parked and exited the car, determined to spend half of my lifetime witnessing all that this beautiful old lady had to offer, the heavy wooden door creaked open, and an aged gentleman wearing a formal suit, all with the waistcoat, frock coat, and bowtie stood there beaconing for me to come in bowing deeply in the process. If it weren’t for the perfectly white gloves, I might have missed who he was, as he didn’t match the images of butlers I had while reading novels in the past.
“This way, sir, follow me,” the butler said, leading me down a dimly lighted hall. “The others have already arrived. We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
I was stunned, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, but also by the strange feeling of stepping into another era, an era that I had always dreamed about living in. Thus, when the man told me to follow him, I didn’t think much about it. I just obediently did as I was told.
Why wouldn’t I?
After all, besides it all being stunningly captivating, I couldn’t see anything wrong. I didn’t see any cracks in that picture-perfect place. Thinking back on it now, I remember something odd in the butler’s voice, some detachment that should have been my first clue that everything wasn’t as perfect as it seemed, as I wanted it to be.
“Master will see you all in his study,” the butler said as we passed through an area that looked like a small drawing room where, in the past, guests were probably received and entertained.
However, in the dim light of the hall, it took me a while to see two dark shapes detaching themselves from the shadows, only to join me in tamely following the butler.
“You are not to enter the master’s study after today,” the butler said coldly. “It is more convenient for him to meet you there today. However, you are prohibited from entering this part of the house in the future! Is that clear?”
We said ‘yes’ in unison and continued following him meekly, each of us lost in thoughts for one reason or another.
As we climbed the stairs, I couldn’t help but notice all the welcoming details in a striking contrast with the butler’s cold attitude. My logic was that he was doing his job, the job he didn’t particularly like, so I didn’t think much about it.
I was more interested in the beautiful mahogany paneling that seemed to cover every inch of the walls we could see from the dim candlelight that was the only illumination of the wooden staircase we were climbing. The banner felt smooth and firm, and the small details, like an enormous grandfather clock on one of the landings and some unusual paintings on the other, didn’t escape my attention. I wondered about every little thing, its purpose, and how it would have looked if the lighting wasn’t so utterly weak.
Even the little set of drawers situated next to the room we seemed to be heading for was a fun mystery to me, one that I was sad I wouldn’t be allowed to discover. However, it made sense that the owner would make some limitations, as it seemed the family was still living in the manor. Thus, our little shenanigans couldn’t be allowed to get out of hand.
“This way,” the butler said impatiently as the three of us lingered in the doorway, not daring to step into the dark study he had led us to.
“After you,” I said politely, bowing to the only lady present, almost losing my hat in the process, as I forgot I was wearing it and bent a bit too low.
“Thank you,” she whispered, quietly giggling at my mishap but still sounding very nervous to be the first one to enter a dark room where the mysterious master resided.
The woman, who seemed of a similar age to mine, finally entered the room while the older man, whom I could see a bit better at that moment with the candlelight right next to him, followed close behind. Thus, all three of us found ourselves in a traditional-looking study with a desk in front of the curtain-covered window, with the person sitting in the chair turned towards us but barely visible in the even fainter light that this room was providing.
“You are not welcome here,” he said bitterly.
Not a very encouraging greeting. Yet, it barely did anything to discourage my eagerness. At that point, I am not sure if there was anything that could have dampened my enthusiasm. I was just too happy to be there to pay attention to the tiny hiccups.
