"The closet?" Lars muttered, absentmindedly.
"What?" said Vanessa.
"You mentioned something about the closet just now…!" This mention alerted Lars, causing him to shift slightly, rustling Vanessa, who was lying on top of him. The two froze with similar looks of confusion and worry on their faces.
"No, I didn't?" Vanessa stated, "You must have misheard me."
"Why did you mention the closet?"
"I didn't…!" She exclaimed, "I'm serious. Lars, why do you keep talking about the closet?"
He couldn't hide the concern on his face, severely roused by the sudden mention, so he could only answer in his words, "I… Don't mind it. I misheard." Saying as such, he placed his hand on her head unconsciously to reassure her. However, his mind was in a frenzy. The closet was only talked about in my dream. Sure, Vanessa said it; but why would she say it in real life? Was it really her who said it? What's going on!?
For the rest of their morning together, Lars and Vanessa never made mention of the closet; nor did Lars speak of his dream or anything similar. It was unknown if this silence was forced or simply a natural conclusion of their conversation. The seed of doubt had been sowed, however, and over the next few days, Vanessa didn't look the same in the eyes of Lars.
For the sake of heeding the warning, he stayed away from the closet for the time being and didn't dare to open it. He wanted to approach with caution. However, every morning, he would turn and glance over towards that corner. The seemingly ordinary closet would be there; where it should be, resting silently. What was inside there? Why shouldn't it be opened?
Not once did the voice speak on it, giving him advice on what he should do. Leonard didn't come back in these few days and any call for him went unanswered. Without somewhere to go, to look towards, he wasn't sure whether it was a mistake to open it and look inside—or if it was more foolish to do nothing.
Knock, knock, knock! Sitting behind his office desk's chair, Lars' vigilance rose instantly. The sound of knocking was coming from the door. Many different people had approached the two office doors, making unique entrances and leaving deep impressions each time. However, it hadn't been so unnerving until now.
"Who is…" muttering as he was about to rise from his chair, one of the doors slowly creaked open. A hand guided it outward as the gap widened ever so slightly. Without introducing oneself, or waiting for the person inside to enter, was this Leonard, who had grown more comfortable entering without explicit permission—or was it someone who believed the room was empty?
"Lars… You're here, right…?" But the person behind the door, slowly revealing themselves from the sleeve upwards called out with half-confidence. There was an uncertainty in the tone but the desperation tinged it with a strange sense of expectation.
I don't know who this voice belongs to… Lars listened, failing to recognise who it was. Another servant—a manservant this time? However, this thought was dispelled by the attire of the man; his sleeve was from a white button-up shirt, while suspenders held up dark-brown slacks. Meanwhile, his shoes were a pair of high-quality loafers.
In contrast to the smart-casual look, the appearance of his face had certainly seen better days. Unshaven, with sunken eyes, and a downcast look, he stared towards the end of the room where Lars was. His hair was short but messy. When his full body entered the office, and his other half was revealed, Lars saw that he was carrying his coat on his arm instead of wearing it.
That isn't a servant. I've never seen him, and he's behaved strangely from the beginning. Lars slowly stood up. But upon doing so, the man shouted, "Sit down! Don't you get up, you fucking bastard!"
Lars had no inclination to follow this sudden outburst, until he noticed the strange way the man flung about his covered arm. There was something jabbing outwards and extending it abnormally. With his experience around Carl from before, he quickly figured out the issue before the coat was pulled away.
The door slammed shut and the coat hit the ground. In his hand, he held a six-shooter revolver that was fixed on Lars. "You…" But something seemed to frighten the man, as he exclaimed with a mix of shock and fear, "You aren't… Who are you?"
"No," he mumbled, "You are him. But… What happened to you? Why have you gotten younger?"
When his questions were returned with silence, he waved his gun angrily, "Explain to me right now! What's going on here?!"
Lars was bewildered, struggling to piece together what this situation meant. Whoever this was seemed to be related to his old self and reacted strongly to the difference in his physical appearance. But before seeing this, he didn't know about the change, and had come with a revolver in hand.
"Listen… I'll explain everything to the best of my ability—why don't you sit down for now?"
"What… Why?"
"How can we talk if we don't?"
Lars smiled politely, acting as if the revolver hadn't startled him. He invited the man to sit beside him and talk as if it was natural. In this situation, using seduction to de-escalate and talk it through was the best option!
If it was answers that the man wanted, then a conversation was the next step. Lars hoped to use this leap in logic to convince him to take a seat. Meanwhile, possible identities raced through his head.
Who could this be? Is there anyone relevant, whose name has appeared at some point? Who would hold a grudge against me? This person has known the other me for a long time… so it's no one new. He expected me to be here, in my office too. A business associate? I remember Leonard briefly mentioning that someone had returned to the business. Thanks to that, it was easier to take this week-long break. In the notebook… His name was written there… with a lot of emotion from the other me. Considering this person's similar sense of agitation, then might it be…
"This past week, I've taken a break from the business," Lars abruptly mentioned.
The man's eyebrow tweaked slightly, before saying, "I'm not concerned about that anymore."
You're Niall, aren't you? Lars nodded. "Come, sit, Niall. Let's catch up."
"Your friendliness is too forced…" Niall said as he slowly sat down. The revolver never left his hand, constantly trailing Lars' movements. At least, this was a better situation than before.
Lars was happy to see his plan working. The next thing was to slowly make that grip on the revolver weaken. However, the moment Niall sat down, he jolted back up as if he had sat on an upturned needle. Realisation dawned on his face as he instantly became vigilant; pointing the gun at Lars, his hand shaking uncontrollably, he backed away and approached the office doors.
"You…! I knew it, you did something…" Niall rambled crazily, fear and anger in his voice, "Damnit… Damnit!"
His hold on the trigger tightened. The hammer flew forward, striking the primer and firing. But with his trembling hand, the first shot missed by a long way and he dared not fire again. It was impossible to line up a clear shot so Niall quickly escaped.
Lars watched without hurrying to chase. If he was leaving, then it was pointless to chase. He was powerless against a revolver when he was unarmed. Consequently, he could only contemplate his failed seduction. Was it too obvious? Can it be detected like that? Perhaps it will take time to use properly, especially against a wary target…
A maidservant soon rushed through the office doors to check on Lars. Upon confirming his condition and hearing his account, a police report was issued. Siegfried didn't appear during the rest of the day. In the end, those responsible for security in the mansion were admonished and nothing extensive came about. The next day arrived soon.
Lars woke up in his bed. He was happy this time to not have received injuries, meaning that it wasn't necessary to sleep in the medical room again.
He sighed reflexively.
Something strange was going on related to his other self. It seemed like an unfortunate situation, where a single creature had preyed on him; but more and more abnormalities kept amassing around him. Now, an attempt on his life had been made. It was becoming an increasingly pressing matter to figure this out.
He soon found his gaze lying upon the closet again. Despite nearly getting shot, it was all he could think about. For what reason was he told not to open it? What did it have to do with Vanessa?
To begin with… I wouldn't have opened that closet or thought about it without the warning. Only now, after being told not to open it, but not a reason why, am I becoming this vexed. Is it tempting me? Does it actually want me to open it after agonising over it for a prolonged period? Upon making this realisation, only then, he came to a decision. He was to do neither!
The voice hadn't spoken on this. Lars thought that maybe it was leaving it up to him, letting him choose how to approach it—or perhaps it didn't care. But then again, it had done something that indirectly gave another option. Siegfried was inside the mansion and available to use! This was the hidden boon received after trusting the voice and doing as it said.
Later in the day, Lars made his way to the kitchen for the second time; but this time, he was actively trying to find Siegfried. It was around 6 p.m. as it had been before when the man was eating his oversized meal. As expected, upon entering the room, he found him along with the chef. It seemed as if they were having a perfectly natural conversation.
However, silence quickly overcame the atmosphere as Lars entered. The chef shut down like a puppet with its strings cut and became deathly quiet while Siegfried turned towards the visitor. He scowled, seemingly disinterested upon seeing who it was, displeased with his meal getting interrupted again, "You… What do you want?"
"This is my kitchen, Siegfried. I can enter whenever I please," said Lars lightly, a polite smile on his face. He then took a seat opposite and observed the selection of food on the plate. It wasn't difficult to notice that there was more meat than last time.
Siegfried eyed Lars suspiciously, "You are way too comfortable. What the hell's up with you?"
"I was almost shot yesterday," Lars said.
"Congratulations?"
"Thank you for your kind words. Anyway, there's something I'd like you to help me with."
"Right… Do you think I'm going to help you because of an attack? I'm not here to protect you, if that's what you've been thinking," Siegfried frowned.
"I know that. I'm simply here to say, there's something I need your help with; and I think it will be of interest to you. You're investigating the abnormality around this mansion, the voice, and myself, right?"
"That is correct."
Lars smiled, "Well, I've found your next clue."