Chapter 5: Employee? slaves.
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The mansion was unnervingly quiet, its dimly lit corridors heavy with a lingering sense of unease. Marcus sat in the study, his fingers tracing the polished wood of his cane as he pondered the events of the previous night. The five-man group had fled, leaving behind a mystery tied to the sixth bag.
Marcus's monocle glinted as he glanced at the faint glow of his system panel hovering nearby.
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System Prompt:
Mission: Confront the Visitor.
Objective: Prevent the retrieval of the sixth bag.
Reward: A rare ghost ally with unique abilities.
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He sighed, rising from his chair. "A visitor who refuses to leave… How impolite," he muttered, his footsteps echoing softly as he left the study.
The mansion seemed to guide him, its shifting shadows pulling him toward the storage room. Marcus arrived to find the door slightly ajar, a faint glow emanating from within. Pushing it open, he stepped inside, his sharp eyes landing on a figure crouched over the sixth bag.
The man from last night—disheveled and frantic—appeared lost in his obsession, his translucent hands trembling as they hovered over the bag.
"You've returned," Marcus said smoothly, his voice slicing through the air.
The figure froze before slowly turning to face him. Marcus noted the pale, almost shimmering quality of his skin and the unnatural way his form flickered at the edges.
"You're not quite what you seem," Marcus remarked, his tone cool.
The ghost's hollow eyes narrowed. "It's mine. They took it from me, and I'm taking it back."
Marcus adjusted his monocle, stepping further into the room. "Do you even remember why that bag is so important? Or has your obsession blinded you to reason?"
The ghost hesitated, his form wavering as his desperation collided with a fleeting sense of doubt. "I… I just know I need it. It's all I have left."
Marcus glanced at the bag, its aura pulsing with a cold, dark energy. "All you have left, or all you've been chained to?" He tapped his cane against the floor, the sound resonating with a power that made the ghost flinch. "Let me guess—whatever happened to you, this bag played a role. It's not just a belonging; it's a curse."
The ghost's face twisted in anguish. "They betrayed me! They left me to die. That bag… it's proof of what they did!"
Marcus's lips curled into a faint smile. "And here you are, bound to a piece of luggage like an unpaid porter."
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System Update:
Optional Challenge Activated: Learn the Bag's Secret.
Reward: Enhanced Insight Ability.
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As if on cue, the bag began to tremble, its seams stretching as a deep growl rumbled from within. The ghost stumbled back, his expression turning to one of terror.
"What… what's happening?" he stammered.
Marcus sighed, his grip tightening on his cane. "It seems your 'proof' has a few secrets of its own."
The bag burst open, releasing a torrent of dark, writhing energy. From within emerged a grotesque shadowy figure, its form a shifting mass of limbs and faces. The ghost let out a strangled cry, collapsing to the floor as the entity loomed over him.
Marcus stepped forward, unfazed by the monstrous apparition. "Back to your prison," he commanded, his voice resonating with authority.
The creature let out an ear-splitting screech, lunging toward him. Marcus struck the floor with his cane, releasing a ripple of blue energy that halted the entity mid-air.
"Enough," Marcus said coldly. "You're bound to this house now. Serve me, or face annihilation."
The entity writhed, its many faces contorting in agony. Finally, it shrank back, its form condensing into a smaller, more stable shape.
The ghost, still on the floor, stared in shock as the entity hovered beside Marcus.
"You… you bound it?" the ghost whispered.
Marcus turned to him with a faint smirk. "Why not? A house this size needs proper staff." He looked at the subdued entity, clapping his hands in a gentlemanly way. "Congratulations, you're my new butler. I've been meaning to hire one, and you'll do nicely."
The ghost blinked, his fear giving way to confusion. "A… butler?"
"Yes," Marcus replied smoothly. "It's better than haunting a storage room, isn't it? I believe I'll call you Eryx."
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System Update:
Mission Completed: Confront the Visitor.
Reward Acquired: Phantom Guardian (Rare Ghost Ally).
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The ghost stared at Marcus, his form flickering uncertainly. "But… what about me? What happens now?"
Marcus stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "You're free, in a sense. But freedom comes with choices. You can stay, help me uncover the secrets of this house, or you can move on—though I suspect you won't get far without this bag."
The ghost looked at the bag, then back at Marcus. "I… I don't know what to do."
Marcus smiled faintly. "You've spent long enough chasing the past. Perhaps it's time to build a future."
The ghost hesitated before nodding slowly. "Alright. I'll stay."
"Good," Marcus said, turning toward the door. "Follow me. We have much to discuss—and I expect my tea promptly at three."
The ghost and the newly bound Eryx followed Marcus into the hall, the tension of the encounter giving way to a strange sense of camaraderie. The mansion had gained another ally, and Marcus knew the mysteries of the sixth bag were just the beginning.
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Marcus sat back in his armchair, his monocle catching the firelight as he observed the two ghosts before him. Aurel, the bag-bound specter, hovered uneasily near the sixth bag, its cursed contents pulsing faintly in the room. Eryx, ever the skeptic, stood silently to the side, his arms folded in an almost resigned posture.
The room was still, save for the crackling of the fire, until Marcus broke the silence with a chuckle. "Well, Aurel, your predicament is certainly… unique." He leaned forward, his fingers steepled as he looked at the ghost with an almost gleeful expression. "I must say, your situation presents a rather fascinating opportunity."
Aurel's translucent form flickered, his hands clenching around the cursed bag. "Opportunity? You must be joking. I'm bound to this thing, forced to carry it around like some… servant."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, his voice smooth and persuasive. "Cursed, yes. But curses, my dear Aurel, are simply opportunities in disguise. Take Eryx here, for example." He gestured toward Eryx, who gave a short, dry chuckle. "He didn't exactly sign up to be a butler, yet he's turned his situation into a rather respectable role."
Eryx snorted, clearly unimpressed. "A bellboy, huh? Poetic. Sure, if you like irony with your torment."
Marcus ignored Eryx's sarcasm, his smile widening as he turned back to Aurel. "Now, Aurel, just think about it. You're practically tied to luggage. It's only fitting, don't you think, that you embrace your destiny as a bellboy?" His eyes sparkled with mischief. "I daresay it's the most logical conclusion."
Aurel stared at him, his ghostly form flickering with disbelief. "A bellboy? You're seriously suggesting that I—?"
"Oh, but I am," Marcus interjected smoothly, almost as though he'd rehearsed it. "Consider it, my dear fellow: You, assisting guests with their burdens, escorting their possessions to and from their rooms. It's practically poetic. Your connection to the bag makes you the perfect candidate." He leaned back in his chair, his cane resting by his side. "In fact, I daresay you'll be quite the asset."
Eryx crossed his arms, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Poetic? More like tragic."
Marcus shot him a knowing glance. "Perhaps. But isn't that what makes life— and the afterlife— so interesting? It's all about how you use what's given to you."
Aurel's face twisted with indignation. "I was a man of importance! Not some servant. I refuse to—"
Marcus cut him off with a soft, almost regretful sigh. "And yet here we are, bound to this house, each of us in a role we never expected. I'm afraid your current position is somewhat… unavoidable."
Aurel scowled, his form flickering in frustration. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"Neither did I," Eryx muttered, the sarcasm clear in his tone. "And look at me now. I'm a butler. And I can't even complain, because I've learned— this house doesn't give you a choice."
Marcus leaned forward again, his smile both sharp and comforting. "Exactly. Life—or un-life—is full of ironies, Aurel. You can fight it, or you can make something of it. And I believe you'll find that embracing your role as the 'bellboy'—or whatever we shall call it—could provide you with a sense of purpose. Or at the very least, a distraction from your predicament."
Aurel opened his mouth to argue, but Marcus held up a hand, cutting him off. "Aurel, your curse has bound you to the bag, and the bag is now bound to this house. You may not like it, but the reality is, you're here for the long haul. Why not make the best of it?" He tapped his cane lightly against the floor, a finality in his tone. "Now, as our resident bag ghost, you'll ensure that this particular item—and any others—are properly accounted for. Think of it as your penance."
Aurel's form flickered again, this time with resignation. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice."
Marcus's smile softened, though the gleam in his eyes never dulled. "Welcome to the team, Aurel. You'll find your new position… challenging, but rewarding. In time, of course."
As Marcus returned to his chair, Eryx leaned toward Aurel, his voice low but sympathetic. "Trust me. It's not as bad as it sounds. At least, that's what I keep telling myself."
Aurel shot him a withering glance, muttering something under his breath. Marcus, however, paid them no mind, his attention already moving on to the next matter at hand. "There's much to do, gentlemen, and time waits for no one. The mansion is always watching, after all."
As the fire crackled in the hearth, Aurel glanced at Eryx, who gave him a sympathetic shrug. The afterlife, it seemed, had taken a decidedly strange turn.
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