It took exactly three days for me to arrive at the palatial estate. Pillars of cream marble decorated the front while the creepy cabman deposited me at the front door, baggage attached. Adding the vines that covered the front of the house like hair, I'd think it's safe to say that no one has cleaned this house in years. Perhaps decades, if one is feeling generous enough.

I wasn't surprised to notice the fact that I wasn't greeted at the door. The sound of music coming from inside told me that the party had already started without me. It doesn't surprise me one bit. I've never been fond of parties; they are terribly boring. Putting on a fake smile, touching glasses and engaging yourself in small talk... I can't help but feel that there is more to life than that. Time could be better spent elsewhere.

It all began with a telephone call in January, during my visit to my sage Aunt Eleanor. On the outside, she might appear to be like any other single woman her age. Obsessed with cats, crochets enough sweaters to cover the Titanic, and collects coupons for local grocery chains to save a small penny. However, I've always sensed that things aren't always what they seem to be with her. She's too... interesting to be one of those old women in their 80's.

Having called me over for some tea, I indulged her and partook in a tea ceremony with her. Her cat's purrs served as background music while she delicately poured the scorching liquid into my ornate cup. I overheard her hum a familiar melody before she sat back up and let me pick up my cup.

"There's someplace I'd like you to go to during your spring break." she declared, her eyes still fixated on her cuckoo clock. Perhaps she wanted to distract me a little. After all, I used to spend my summer break with my Father at our seaside house, fishing for our meals and camping out in the wilderness.

It's been five months since he went off the grid. A lot of people are concerned about me, but it is misplaced. My Father has always been a free spirit and I can't fault him for wanting to explore the world. I set down my cup, looking up from my seat and into my Aunt's eyes.

"I've got plans."

"Lies." she snapped, straightening her wrinkled face. "It's a friend of your fathers. He invited him, but since he clearly cannot show, you shall go in his place. Unless... you have a way to reach him?" She knew that I didn't. She also knew that I wasn't one to give into my emotions easily. I had the family blood in me to thank for that. Everyone knows that the Evergarde's are a family of geniuses and masters of many talents. One of them is concealing their emotions to a point of trickery.

Suddenly, curiosity took over. My one fault. "A friend of Father's?" She smirked. Right, I forgot that she's a master when it comes to manipulation. She knows exactly what pushes my buttons. "He's a distanced friend from university who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, like most of the people who aren't nouveau riche. He's an old man with a large fortune to his name and happens to own an island where he had constructed a cabin a few years back. He invited his father to spend the weekend."

An distant acquaintance of my Father's... but that doesn't add up. My Father hates the pompous likes of the wealthy. He always made fun of the women who claimed to be so charitable yet wore jewels worth millions on their petite little necks. A real tragedy, he said, that their children would turn out the same way.

And so, I ended up agreeing to go. Any leads on my Father's whereabouts would be appreciated. Besides, this man is supposedly the chairman of the board of governors in the specialist university that I want to attend in a few years. Perhaps getting him to know me wouldn't be so bad after all...

Returning back to the matter at hand, I still had no idea what to do. I was stranded in front of the house with no one to greet me. Should I knock? Perhaps that would be wise. I raised my knuckle to knock when something crashed down from above, making me jump. A... terracotta flower pot? The contents had spread all over the flowerbed below, crushing the white lilies trying their best to grow in such a tropical environment. "Hold on, lilies?"

"Mr. Moore had them shipped this morning." I jumped again, turning my head towards the voice that had practically drained the life out of me. It was a sheepish looking maid, one with a mouse nose and a small mouth. She was picking at the callouses on the inside of her hand before bowing to me.

"You must be Miss Eula? We... weren't expecting you until tomorrow!" That's strange. The invitation that my Aunt told me about did say this date. She then shook her head and looked up at me, flashing me an awkward smile. "Not that it matters, I'm sure that Master Grant won't mind at all. We can't exactly send you back..."

She seems particularly nervous about something. Her eyes then diverted to something more important; the smashed flower pot. She gasped. "Oh goodness, what happened here? I-I must have left the upstairs window open. It gets terribly windy these days that the panel must have knocked it off. I'll get to cleaning it right after I escort you to your room." She seems very jumpy and shy for a maid who is supposed to greet guests.

Upon hearing the door open, I was immediately the spectacle of the people inhabiting the drawing room. The scent of an expensive cigar being smoked nearby a window immediately alerted me to remind myself that I was going into a den full of rich people and that the only way that I was going to survive the weekend here was if I kept to myself.

"Oh, seems like we have another guest." a woman in red declared, placing her drinking glass down onto the small table beside her chair. "And who might this little cutie be?" All of their eyes were on me, and for once, I decided to satisfy their curiosity.

"Eula Evergarde. Daughter of Philip Evergarde. It's nice to meet you all. I wouldn't waste your time trying to remember me, I'm not from... your circle." I tried saying it as politely as I could but the scent of tobacco was hindering my ability to breathe. It made me seem like I was arrogantly looking down on them. Either way, I'm only here to see one person.

I turned my head to find the maid but she had already disappeared into the shadows, just like before. I was left in the middle of the huge foyer, the large staircase claiming my attention. The marble used seemed new, as expected from a new house like this. However, it seemed a little too new. Unlike the walls outside, that would be expected to be overgrown without maintenance, the marble had an extreme crisp white hue. If not polished regularly, they should have at least taken a slight yellow tint.

"Excuse me?" asked a voice to my left side. I slowly turned my head, meeting a boy around my age wearing a tailored suit that would cost more than my life. "Are you remaining the weekend as well?"

Is he trying to make small talk with me? The others in the room don't seem to bothered with him. My conclusion? He's a nouveau riche. Unlike wealthy people who come from money, nouveau riche's come from new money earned in the last decade.

Due to an incessant habit of mine, I immediately began analysing him from head to toe. An expensive watch, a pair of Italian leather shoes... I then extended out my hand, giving a polite smile. "Eula Evergarde." He smiled back, shaking my hand firmly. Rough hands and callous scars at the bottom of his fingers. "Marius Gilbert. It's a pleasure."

"Did you do manuel labour before you became a nouveau riche?" He looked at me baffled, but curious as to how I figured it out. Seems like my prediction was spot-on after all. "Y-Yes," he replied, taking back his hand. "How did you know?" His lunula is large. Shows a healthy diet. I then looked up at him and realised that he was still looking at me for an answer.

"Miss Eula." The sound of wheels coming out from a spare room made me turn again as an old man was wheeled out. His wrinkled skin suggested that he was indeed a man in his 80's, just like Aunt Eleanor had said. My eyes slipped down to his hand. There was a large pinhole bruise located on the back of his hand, remnant of an IV needle. His health mustn't be great.

I kept on looking at him as he sat there, his aide covering his legs with a blanket. The dark circles around his eyes must be from sleeplessness. The poor man is most likely troubled by something... and the purple tint on his lips. Could it be...

The pieces were slowly coming together, and all I could do was solve the puzzle.