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The sound of a button being pressed repeatedly in the same spot. The left hand slowly moving the mouse pointer, the rare click sound filling the silence of the first late night shift. His lazy yet attentive eyes carefully scanning the folded computer monitor screen. About four empty black cans sitting on the table. Now the man moved modestly, grabbing a cup to brew the same warm liquid.
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The initially unmotivated man received many clues that spurred him into action. Like a steam engine with a spinning generator wheel, Cake embraced an overnight work system, disregarding fatigue. Near him, there was a detailed note with accurately sorted information. It was a job that required appreciation, despite the lack of respect.
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The vibrating sound of a mobile alarm on the table momentarily halted him.
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"Six o'clock, huh?" He turned off the alarm and stretched for a moment. "Not too bad."
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Cake sipped a freshly brewed cup of black coffee. Then he moved to open the curtains of the mansion's front windows. Gazing out the window while slowly blinking, he enjoyed the sight of the dawn and the grassy fence cooling his eyes.
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The jingling sound of keys approached.
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"Ah, you're up early, Monsieur Cake?" greeted an old man with white hair and a beard, then he unlocked the door. "You're quite different from what Mademoiselle Hestia described."
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"Not surprising, my eyes twitched a few days ago," Cake added. "But this mansion is indeed surprising, Mr. Pinchon. The rental cost is low and allowed for a short-term lease."
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A fresh breeze seemed to visit through the open teak wood door. The two of them went out for a little walk around the yard. Mr. Pinchon opened the gate, while Cake turned around to admire the mega Victorian-style mansion.
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A two-story rectangular building with a red brick facade. The side used for socializing had six-sided protruding walls surrounded by three windows. The attic extended from left to right, now serving as a storage area. Despite having two floors, the building had six rooms available for rent to tourists. The yard was quite spacious, though it appeared ordinary, and the garage could accommodate two cars. However, it was this simple appearance that made Cake smile with satisfaction.
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"250 pounds per 7 days, breakfast included, and the location is at the intersection. Too good to be true."
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"It's called a BnB. Besides, you don't have to pay! Miss Hestia once helped me in the past."
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The old man mentioned that he used to be a farmer in Ardennes, France, with no family, but he adopted two baby girls. He raised them alone. There was no house; a grain barn with straw pillows covered in fabric was his way of resting for about 40 years.
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"As the new countess, she relied on wit rather than wealth. The previous count had a strong patriotic spirit, and he didn't entrust the responsibility to a fool, even if it was his bloodline. That's why Mlle. Hestia proved her intelligence, making the Ardennes and Vorges regions much more fertile and profitable. Meanwhile, people like me, who have worked for years, have risen through the ranks as gardeners, servants, or the countess's driver."
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Cake walked closer and held onto the grassy fence.
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"You became the driver and were often taken around. Some trips took you to Britain. Considering your background of having two girls but not having a place to live, coincidentally finding an old building at a cheap price in Wales?"
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"Exactly, but Mlle. Hestia thought further. Instead of making it a residence, she decided to turn it into a grand BnB. No need to hire additional staff; the twins took care of that."
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"Solene and Gouin?"
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A girl wearing an apron approached them.
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"Papa, it's time for breakfast," she added. "Mr. Cake, please, the porridge is ready."
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The two men said they would follow, and the girl went back inside the mansion.
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"My hope is simple. I hope they get along and have a family after I'm gone," Mr. Pinchon said somewhat sadly.
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Cake smiled warmly and immediately embraced the old man's shoulder.
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"It's too good to be true what you're saying. I'm sure that's not it. Letting go of the girl is like getting robbed a treasure trove of precious gems. There will come a time when the girl you've raised on your own will be wed to another man, and that's when you'll pray earnestly!"
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"Well, there's some truth to that, hehehe!" M. Pinchon's face lit up with enthusiasm.
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They proceeded through the living room and the reception desk, where Cake's belongings and equipment were still in disarray, except for the empty tin that had disappeared.
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Upon arriving there, Cake felt uneasy because the two girls were waiting for someone who hadn't arrived yet.
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"Is Mlle. Madelaine not awake yet?"
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The two blond-haired girls exchanged glances, then shook their heads at each other. Cake quickly noticed the expressions on their faces, realizing that they had tried but failed to wake her up. They would rather give up than deal with their countess on their own.
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Cake glanced at his watch. "Six forty-five, this can't be allowed."
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Cake requested a glass of water and poured it onto a handkerchief from his pocket until it was completely wet. He quietly ascended to the second floor and entered one of the rooms. The bed was disheveled, while the woman still consulted with her dreams.
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"Too relaxed at the wrong time."
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Cake grabbed the wet handkerchief and started rubbing it on her face. He elongated her sharp nose and pulled her cheeks wide.
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Her eyelids slowly opened, with a brief moment of blinking.
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"Cake...?" The woman's mouth lifted slowly, her tone whimpering.
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"Yes, you female cow?"
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Forcefully, Cake grabbed her hand and gently pulled her towards the bathroom sink. The woman was weak and still drowsy, so when Cake cupped her hands under the faucet and splashed water at her face repeatedly, she didn't resist.
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"Hey, is that necessary?" Madelaine's head and part of her nightgown got wet, and she folded her hands to protect her face.
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Cake turned off the faucet. "If you don't wake up, they'll miss breakfast, understand? Now, don't be dramatic and come down immediately!"
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Madelaine stared at the bathroom mirror for a moment while tying her hair.
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"Why is he always sentimental towards me?" she sighed.
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Looking presentable enough, Madelaine came downstairs and took the empty seat next to Cake. They were surprised to see that her clothes were quite wet.
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"Don't worry, it's part of the discipline," Cake explained to them.
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"Yes, yes, I apologize. But I worked overtime all night!" Madelaine yawned repeatedly while lifting her spoon.
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When M. Pinchon mentioned that Cake hadn't slept the whole night, Madelaine blushed and remained silent.
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The porridge session concluded, and a typical English breakfast was promptly served by the twin girls. It included sausages, peas, tomatoes, eggs, potatoes, and bread. The two girls apologized for running out of pudding and offered hot chocolate as a substitute.
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However, Cake and Madelaine didn't mind such trivial matters. For them, the most important aspect of being on duty out of town was having sufficient accommodation. As long as the bed was comfortable and there was edible food, there was nothing else to be grateful for.
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After finishing breakfast, Cake and Madelaine immediately showered and prepared themselves. They discussed at the rarely used reception desk. Old man Pinchon said most guests felt more comfortable negotiating while having tea in the living room.
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"Inspector Popelin has sent the results of his investigation via email. Now the data is on my phone," Madelaine said as she plugged in the cable connected to her borrowed laptop from Cake overnight.
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Within five minutes, all the files were sent. Cake promptly cross-referenced them with the notes he had taken.
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"It seems Inspector Popelin is more impressive when presenting data and information," Cake remarked, his eyes shifting focus between his own notes and the laptop screen.
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"I'll include some advisory notes for the South Wales Police," added Madelaine, reading from her phone. "There are also some notes in the email to check the data first on the second and third static recordings of the Morgaine group and the third static recording of the Morvud group."
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Without hesitation, Cake opened the folder. There were ten recordings that Inspector Popelin had trimmed, totaling over an hour and ten minutes in raw footage, split into two types belonging to the Morgaine sub-group and the Morvud sub-group.
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The twin girls, Gouin and Solene, brought them tea and dry pastries. Out of his curious, Cake didn't mind allowing them to watch.
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The video played in full. The recordings were captured using night vision cameras, giving them a sepia-toned appearance. As they watched, nothing stood out to Cake and Madelaine other than the typical supernatural phenomena—moving objects, whispers of wind, EMF radar occasionally beeping, and distinct voices on the spirit box.
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Until they reached the final part, Cake and Madelaine thought they heard faint crying and, in the very last video, a clear scream that emanated from their respective static recordings.
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Cake and Madelaine immediately checked the other data. Within two hours, they finally managed to deduce several anomalies.
ns216.73.216.65da2
