THE DINNER.
My heart settled back into place when a regular doorman greeted us.
Dressed with exaggeration.
"Welcome, Mr. Caleius," he said as he bowed. "Your usual table is ready."
Hugo handed him his overcoat without a word.
His hand squeezing mine.
When we entered the enormous dining room, my heart started racing again.
It looked normal.
But everything inside me screamed that it wasn't.
And I soon confirmed I was right.
First… there were very few diners, absorbed in their plates or phones.
The place had a baroque, unsettling luxury.
We walked across a crunchy carpet that smelled of naphthalene.
The dark walls had rows of flashy sconces and the ceiling, too low —Hugo could almost touch it, for God's sake— displayed crowded, motionless crystal chandeliers.
As if the air didn't circulate.
It didn't.
I held my breath.
Because it smelled very strong.
Of bland food, tobacco… and something like copper.
The atmosphere was heavy.
The light was scarce, with a reddish tone like watered-down blood.
The silence was only broken by our footsteps, the cutlery, and the clinking of glasses.
Never by voices.
And that was the most spine-chilling detail.
No one looked at us.
Those people seemed from another world.
As if they were there, and at the same time they weren't.
I squeezed my hand inside Hugo's but didn't dare ask.
The muteness seemed to be part of the identity of that strange place.
And although I usually break rules, this time I didn't.
We left empty tables behind, and I started wondering where we would sit; when Hugo stopped in front of the long back wall, covered by a thick dark curtain.
He pulled a section aside, and a door appeared that yielded when he placed his palm on it.
He gently pushed me inside.
And finally there, I could breathe.
It was a small, cozy, bright private room.
Completely different from what was outside.
He pulled out a chair for me and sat across from me.
Both places were perfectly set.
With impeccable glasses and rows of gleaming cutlery.
Next to the napkins was a tablet.
Hugo took his and looked at me.
"It's the menu."
"Ah, of course. How unusual."
He smiled, looking at the screen.
I scanned the list.
I didn't recognize any of those dishes with extravagant names.
A waiter entered silently.
So silently that he startled me.
After greeting Hugo, he poured wine into the glasses and then left the bottle.
Everything was too synchronized.
Correct.
Suspicious.
"I see you come here often," I observed, tense again. "I thought you'd be the type for more… conventional places."
He looked at me amused.
"What's wrong with this place?"
"Everything," I blurted out and immediately regretted it. I tried to fix it. "I've seen you in many restaurants. All normal ones around the city."
"Oh, really?" He rested his elbows on the table, chin on his crossed hands. "Go on. It's interesting."
I clicked my tongue.
"Stop mocking me. You know perfectly well I was following you."
"You still are."
I laughed.
"The feeling is mutual."
He didn't reply to that.
He just straightened up.
"Have you decided what you're going to order?"
I let out a breath and dropped the tablet at the same time.
"I have no idea what any of those weird names are," I complained. This time he laughed. "Don't laugh at me. Order for me. Something with salad… and some juicy steak that tastes good."
"The food is delicious, Isabella," he said. "It's just that most diners prefer the 'Grassie dent–trox'."
"And what the hell is that?"
"Raw meat."
He said it with such naturalness that I shivered.
I waited a few seconds to see if he laughed or something.
He didn't.
I laughed.
The laugh of someone who wants to scream and chooses to pretend instead.
"What do you mean… raw meat?" I finally managed to ask.
"I don't know why it surprises you. They just add salt and pepper. They marinate it in a little cranberry vinegar and serve it when it's absorbed everything."
"Shit, Hugo. That… is terrifying."
Ready.
"Now you have prejudices?"
"I think I lost my appetite."
He sighed and snapped his fingers.
"Don't exaggerate, girl."
The waiter appeared as if by magic.
Hugo whispered some of those names in his ear.
But not the raw meat one.
I felt relieved.
When the employee left, he took one of my hands.
"I ordered something you're going to like," he said. "I just have to tell you something. They don't make salads, it's a meat-only place. But they'll find something for you." A pause. "Happy?"
I swallowed, and I think I nodded.
"As long as it's not… uncooked meat…"
"No. I don't like it that much either."
I hadn't finished processing it when the waiter returned pushing a cart.
HALLUCINATIONS.
The night improved.
The dinner was actually delicious.
Perfectly cooked meat.
And kale and broccoli salad.
My apprehension almost disappeared.
Almost, because there were a ton of things circling in my head.
Yes, those things.
And when I took my last bite, I looked at Hugo.
"More wine, please," I asked, and he filled my glass.
It was the third bottle.
It was also time to ask questions.
"You promised you'd explain," I began like that.
He didn't flinch.
In fact, he had been waiting for that moment.
I couldn't help smiling.
"Yes, I know I'm predictable," he said in a mocking tone.
"You're not," I corrected. "You're just always one step ahead and I'm very smart."
He raised his glass.
"True. And I toast to that."
I took a long sip.
And settled in for the interrogation.
"What do you want to know?"
I looked him straight in the eyes.
"One answer. Or several," I said.
"Fine," he refilled his glass with a steady hand. "Let's go one by one."
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"
His face turned to stone.
But he squeezed his glass for a second.
It was a minimal gesture.
And at the same time, revealing.
"You should know that," he growled.
I took a deep breath.
"Aren't you worried that I have so many files that…"
"You won't betray me," he cut me off.
His confidence moved me.
He was right, fuck.
I'd dig through hell if he asked me to.
"Is someone… watching you or… chasing you?"
He raised an eyebrow.
His expression softened.
"Besides you? I don't know. Did you discover something?"
I shifted.
"There's someone lurking around the mansion and… it's not me," I blurted out. "Did you fire security? I also think that someone is manipulating the recordings and the control room seems… abandoned."
There his gaze changed.
"You went down?"
I didn't know if it was reproach, surprise, or something else.
"You asked me to help you figure out what happened with Sue," I defended myself cleanly. He didn't move. "I also want you to tell me what piece she was in your games…"
"Wait."
I shut up instantly.
The clink of his glass on the table amplified.
And he leaned forward.
"It would only be fair… one question from you, one from me," he murmured. "Because I have many too."
I let out a breath and leaned back in my chair.
I started playing with the edge of the tablecloth.
"Go ahead," I said through my teeth. "Ask whatever you want, although I think you know everything."
"No, Isabella," he hissed, and a strange fire flickered in his eyes. "I'm not God. And you are… let's say difficult."
"Am I difficult?" I straightened up. "I'm just an idiot obsessed with you with one single idea. But everything has gotten complicated… as if the mansion were haunted and…"
"Does it seem that way to you?"
"It does," my chest heaved.
Silence.
Then he dropped a bomb.
"What if all that… is just hallucinations?"
Everything stopped.
What the fuck?
His condescending tone made me angry.
"Hallucinations, you say?"
He slid a finger along the rim of his glass.
His pose distracted.
"Yes, Isabella. Those pills you take…"
"Cut it out…" I growled, my jaw tense. "You're trying to confuse me…"
"Shh," in an instant, his thumb rubbed the back of my hand. "Calm down, I'm not accusing you. I'm just… expanding the picture. Breathe," he asked, and I unclenched my teeth. "There. It's my turn."
"Then ask already…"
I was still impatient.
Yes. I couldn't help it.
Hugo moistened his lips.
But when he opened his mouth, a commotion from the other side made us turn our heads toward the door.
They sounded like… muffled whispers.
Many.
I dug my nails into my palms, frozen.
They sounded like fucking laments.
Hugo stood up.
"What's happening?" I asked with a trembling voice.
"It's nothing," he said and left.
I stayed there, counting the seconds.
Until I couldn't anymore.
He wasn't coming back, and… my little patience vanished.
Determined, I stood up to go look for him.