Outside Zhypher's office, Martin Armon stood as if waiting for the right moment. Celeste could feel the weight of the air pressing in on her as she glanced nervously toward the closed door. She'd just had her first encounter with the infamous Zhypher Armon, and now, she was about to face another challenge.
"Mr. Martin, he told me you would show me around," Celeste said, trying to steady her nerves.
Martin turned to her with a measured nod, his expression unreadable. "I'll start with Miss Fiona Armon, Zhypher's mother. Follow me."
As they walked through the grand, echoing halls of the mansion, Martin spoke in his calm, precise manner. "You'll need to study all her prescriptions. They're crucial for her care." He didn't look at Celeste, but his words were heavy, each one a reminder of the responsibility now on her shoulders.
Celeste swallowed, nodding as she listened intently. "When you give her food, water, bathing, medicines, and even when you read books for her, it all must be done exactly as the book says. Don't deviate from it," Martin continued, his voice smooth but firm.
She could feel her anxiety creeping up again. "I understand," Celeste replied, though a knot tightened in her stomach. Martin had mentioned that Miss Fiona was calm and quiet, but something about the way he spoke made her uneasy.
"If she refuses food or medicine, try your best to get her to take it," Martin added, his eyes narrowing slightly. "If you fail, you'll report directly to Zhypher. He'll handle it from there." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Do not skip anything mentioned in the book. It's all about Fiona. Understood?"
Celeste nodded, her heart hammering as she tried to process the gravity of what she was about to undertake. She'd faced many difficult situations in her life, but this felt different. The mansion, the stern Martin, and now Miss Fiona — something about this place made everything seem more intense, more demanding.
As they neared the door to Miss Fiona's room, Martin's footsteps slowed, and he pushed the door open with a gentle creak. Celeste's breath caught in her throat. The room was large and elegant, bathed in soft, warm light that filtered through the tall windows. A sense of stillness hung in the air, and she felt a strange sense of peace. But then her eyes landed on the woman lying in the bed.
Miss Fiona Armon was as tranquil as her son was fierce. Her delicate features were serene, and the faint smile on her lips hinted at a gentle soul trapped in a body that no longer responded as it once had. Her silver hair cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes were closed, as though she were lost in a peaceful slumber.
"Miss Fiona," Martin called softly, stepping into the room with Celeste following. The woman didn't stir at his voice.
"Her condition is… delicate," Martin said, his voice quiet, almost reverent. "Her health fluctuates, but she's always calm. You shouldn't have too many issues with her."
Celeste took a hesitant step closer, her heart pounding in her chest. Despite Martin's reassurances, the idea of caring for someone so fragile, someone so completely dependent on her, made her feel small and inadequate.
Miss Fiona's pale fingers lay still on the sheets, and Celeste found herself wondering what the woman's life had been like before all of this. She seemed like a ghost of the woman she could have been, drifting in a world of silence and solitude. It made Celeste's stomach churn with guilt. She was supposed to help, but how could she when everything felt so foreign, so intimidating?
"Don't let her quiet nature fool you," Martin warned, snapping Celeste out of her thoughts. "She's calm, yes, but if she refuses, you'll need to persist. Try not to let her feel as though she's a burden."
Celeste nodded again, though she felt a flutter of uncertainty deep in her chest. How could she possibly succeed where so many had failed? She wasn't a nurse, she wasn't a caregiver — she was just a girl trying to survive. But if she could just follow the instructions, do what Martin said... maybe she'd find her way through this.
As they entered the room, Celeste froze in place. The air felt wrong. The stillness was unnerving, like something was terribly off. Miss Fiona's body lay motionless in the bed, her once serene face now pale, almost lifeless. The quiet hum of the room felt deafening.
Martin's eyes widened. His face twisted with disbelief as he rushed to the bedside. His hands trembled as he checked Miss Fiona's pulse, his breath quickening. "No… no, this can't be…" he muttered, his voice strained with panic.
He shook her gently, but there was no response. His expression darkened as he pulled out his phone and dialed with shaking fingers.
"Zhypher…" Martin's voice cracked as he spoke into the phone. "You need to come here. It's… it's Miss Fiona. She's…" His words were choked with emotion, and he quickly hung up, rushing to check her pulse again. His face twisted in anguish, and his eyes filled with tears.
Celeste stood frozen, unsure of what to do. She felt like an intruder in this moment of heartbreak. Was this her fault? Had she failed? She hadn't even had the chance to give Miss Fiona the medicine yet — was this on her?
Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. The weight of the room pressed down on her, the uncertainty of the situation gnawing at her mind. Did Zhypher blame her for this? Her stomach churned with a mix of fear and guilt, and she felt the room spin around her.
"Please, no…" Martin sobbed, his voice raw as he collapsed beside Miss Fiona. "Don't leave me, please."
The sound of Zhypher's footsteps could be heard running toward the room, his heavy steps pounding in the hallway. The door swung open, and Zhypher entered, his eyes immediately locking onto his mother. His face hardened with shock, then crumbled into grief as he knelt beside her.
"No…" he whispered, tears streaming down his face as he checked her pulse. His hands were trembling as he gently cradled her face. "No, no, no… I couldn't…"
The doctor arrived moments later, confirming the inevitable. "She is no more," the doctor said solemnly, his face filled with sadness.
Zhypher's world seemed to shatter in that instant. He cried — cried harder than Celeste had ever seen anyone cry. He wept for his mother, for the loss that was too much to bear. The sound of his grief filled the room, the rawness of his pain unbearable.
Celeste stood there, paralyzed. She felt her heart racing in her chest, and her mind couldn't catch up with the reality unfolding before her. The tension was suffocating. She didn't know whether to run away or stay. Would Zhypher blame her for not doing enough? She felt like the walls were closing in on her, and her breaths grew shallower with each passing moment.
Her heartbeat quickened, and suddenly, the room spun wildly. Her vision blurred as the pressure built in her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think — the weight of the situation, the grief, the uncertainty, all crashed over her at once.
Was it all too much? Was she meant to fail from the start?
With a gasp, Celeste collapsed, her body giving way as she crumpled to the floor, the world around her going black.