It was already getting dark. Rose and Naomi sat in the dining hall of the mansion, their plates untouched as they waited. The air felt still, almost heavy, with an unspoken anticipation that neither of them fully understood. Rows of chefs stood silently by the walls, their hands clasped neatly in front of them, their faces blank as statues. Rose's gaze wandered over them, curious yet wary. There was something about their stillness that felt unnatural, even eerie, but she chose to keep her questions to herself, assuming they were simply waiting for someone to taste the food first.