ᴇᴩɪꜱᴏᴅᴇ 5
The next morning, Ren woke to a throbbing headache, the aftermath of last night’s beer-fueled antics with Draven.
Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed, the mansion’s chilly air prickling his skin. A cold shower snapped him back to life, the water washing away the fog of sleep and leaving him feeling marginally human.
Dressed in a worn T-shirt and jeans, he shuffled out of his room and found Draven sprawled across the couch, snoring softly amid a sea of empty pizza boxes.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Hey, sleepyhead, rise and shine.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*said, giving Draven’s shoulder a playful shake*
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
*cracked open one bleary eye*
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
*Rubbing his face*
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
Ugh, why are you so chipper?
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
My head’s killing me.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*grinned, undeterred*
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Because it’s a new day, and we’re living in a freaking mansion.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Come on, let’s scrounge up some breakfast.
They stumbled into the cavernous kitchen, its high ceilings and dusty cabinets looming like relics of a forgotten era.
Ren rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs, bacon, and a box of pancake mix. The sizzle of bacon filled the air with a comforting aroma as they worked in tandem, flipping pancakes and cracking jokes to shake off their hangovers.
Soon, they sat at the creaky oak table, digging into a hearty spread, the morning sun streaming through grimy windows.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
This place isn’t half bad, you know.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*said, munching on a fluffy pancake*
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
*nodded, his mouth full of bacon*
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
Yeah, this kitchen’s legit.
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
Beats our old dorm microwave meals. ( ¯−¯٥)
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*chuckled*
As Ren cleared the table, he paused, frowning.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Weird.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
I swear I left more pancakes on this plate.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*scratching his head, scanning the counter*
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
*raised an eyebrow*
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
You probably just miscounted, man.
DRAVEN WILLIAMS (RA)
Or ate them in a hangover haze.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*shrugged, unconvinced but letting it slide*
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Maybe.
Unseen in the shadows of the kitchen’s corner, a figure lingered, watching Ren with keen interest.
???
I’ll have to be more careful.
Eager to make a good impression, Ren decided to introduce himself to the neighbors.
He spent the morning baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies, their warm, sugary scent filling the mansion.
From the overgrown garden, he gathered a handful of wildflowers, tying them with twine into a rustic bouquet.
With a basket of cookies and flowers in hand, he strode across the street, excitement buzzing in his chest.
An elderly woman answered his knock, her smile warm but tinged with curiosity.
NEIGHBOUR
Well, hello, young man.
NEIGHBOUR
Welcome to the neighborhood.
NEIGHBOUR
What brings you here? *smiling*
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*offered the basket, his grin wide*
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
I’m Ren, just moved into the old mansion down the road. 😄
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Thought I’d say hi with some cookies and flowers.
The woman’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as she accepted the gift.
NEIGHBOUR
That’s kind of you, Ren. But that house…
Her voice dropped, and she glanced around as if the trees might be listening.
NEIGHBOUR
It has a reputation.
NEIGHBOUR
Some say it’s haunted.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
*chuckled, brushing off the warning*
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Haunted, huh?
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
I’ll keep an eye out for any ghosts, but I’m not worried.
REN WELLINGTON (DA)
Just an old house with creaky floors.
NEIGHBOUR
*nodded, expression still uneasy*
NEIGHBOUR
Just be careful, dear.
NEIGHBOUR
We’re glad to have you, but…
NEIGHBOUR
Mind yourself in that place.
Ren thanked her and headed back, amusement curling his lips.
Haunted? he thought, shaking his head. The neighbors’ caution only fueled his determination to make the mansion his own, ghost stories be damned.
As he stepped back into the shadowy foyer, the air felt just a touch cooler, but Ren, ever the skeptic, chalked it up to a draft—oblivious to the unseen eyes tracking his every move.
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