Emily and Jamilla silently exited Emily's room. As they walked down the hallway, the soft patter of their footsteps echoed through the manor. With each step, and each glance at the intricate designs that surrounded her, Emily felt a renewed sense of purpose, as if the day held endless possibilities waiting to be uncovered. Despite the lingering unease that Jamilla's words had given her, she refused to let it fog the beauty that surrounded her.

As they arrived in the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon greeted them like an old friend. They took their seats at the table and eagerly tucked into the hearty breakfast that awaited them. Lost in her musings, Emily's eyes wandered to the counter, where a plate of chocolate-coated apples sat enticingly. She couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about them, Clariss left, hadn't she? Emily thought to herself. So she turned to Aida and asked, "Who made the apples?"

"I did. But it's not as good as Clariss's. The workers need them. Every morning they eat a piece each."

"Need them?" Emily questioned. Curiosity visible on her face.

Aida's response was spoken from the heart. There was light in her eyes as she explained that the chocolate-coated apples were a symbol of the hope that Clariss had given them when they first arrived. Despite the overwhelming challenges they faced in renovating the mansion, Clariss had shown them that there was always a glimmer of hope, even in the darkest of times.

Emily's eyebrow arched in curiosity at the mention of their significance.

Just as she was about to ask Aida more about the apples, Jamilla interjected, "I know she was a bitch to you but Clariss had a good heart to her too." Jamilla took a bite of her bread and then continued, "When they arrived here, the manor was a mess. Some of the workers didn't even stay to finish the first day. They just up and left. Soon, the workers, one after the other started to quit."

It was Aida who finished the statement. "That's when Clariss came up with the apple. She'd wake up at 3 in the morning just to make 200 pcs of chocolate-coated apples. The workers respected Clariss for that. She told us that chocolate will make us happy, while the apple will keep us healthy."

"Everyone appreciated that," Jamilla interjected. "And so, day after day, Clariss continued to make the chocolate-coated-apples, until they became a symbol of hope for all the workers."

"And I'm the wicked witch who took away their hope." Emily interrupted.

"That's not it," Jamilla retorted.

"Don't sugarcoat it, Jamilla. She should know the truth." Aida turned her attention to Emily. "Some of the workers aren't happy about Clariss getting the boot. They blame you for it."

Then the cook glanced back at Jamilla, "So do what you were told to do. Watch over her," Aida advised. That's when Emily asked, "Should I be worried about my life?"

Aida chuckled. "No. But Jasper said the workers might pull a prank on you."

"A prank wouldn't merit asking someone to watch over me, Aida." Emily retorted.

"It's not like he got a police officer to guard you, Emily. Having Jamilla beside you is just a precaution. A witness in case some prank does get thrown your way."

Emily threw Jamilla a glance and then asked, "Wouldn't accompanying me impede your work?"

Jamilla, with all her enthusiastic air, jumped out of her seat, rounded the table, and hugged Emily - shocking the woman - then answered, "Nope besides I don't really work here. I only come twice a week to deliver the vegetables and meat."

"What do you mean," asked Emily.

It was Aida who answered."Jamilla is a local. She's the daughter of the meat shop the company procured to deliver produce in the manor. Jasper had spoken to her earlier and as you can see, she's more than happy to stay beside you."

"More than happy," Jamilla parroted.

Emily, in her introspective musings, found herself at a loss for words. Having Jamilla accompany her throughout the day wasn't an amusing idea. But when she glimpsed the woman smiling brightly at her, she couldn't help but smile back. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea after all. She needed someone on her side. If everyone else was at war with her, then a bird on her shoulder was a good idea to have. It wouldn't give her a total advantage but it would provide an additional voice. Just in case. She mused.

Shaking her head, Emily shifted her attention to more mundane matters, focusing her energies instead on the simple pleasures of eating. It didn't take long until she was done and as she rose from her seat and attempted to make her way out of the kitchen, Aida called out to her and offered her a chocolate-coated apple. Due to her previous experience, she shook her head and thanked the woman.

"Don't worry. This is safe. Despite what Clariss had done, don't hate on the apple. It's useful. It did us a lot of good too. Perhaps it would lift your spirit as it did ours." Aida assured.

Though hesitant, Emily took the apple, and sure enough, it didn't seem like it had anything on it that could cause her harm.

In the corner of her eyes, she watched as Jamilla and Aida both took one for themselves. Silently she eyed the women take a bite of the apple and eventually, Emily found herself leaning on the kitchen door taking a bite of the sweet confection too. She savored the taste. They weren't kidding, she thought to herself. She had chocolate-coated apples before, but the one Aida gave her topped it all.

As she continued to take one bite after another, she found herself feeling grateful to both women. Despite their obvious attachment to Clariss they seem to be logical in the head; enough to comprehend that the woman's dismissal had nothing to do with her at all.

***

As Emily ascended the stairs to the third floor, she felt no apprehension, only a deep sense of confusion. Though Jamilla had accompanied her thus far, she had been left behind, relegated to the cold embrace of the staircase. Emily knew that only she was allowed on the third floor, and so she pressed on with a resolute determination.

As she entered the room that housed the portrait of Pier Brice, she sat herself on the stool beside it. Taking a deep breath Emily's mind mulled over the mysteries that lay before her. Her thoughts were deep and penetrating, and she found herself lost in contemplation. Shaking her head, she reminded herself that it was time to work and work alone.

Emily began to pace around the room, her eyes scanning the walls for any sign of where to start. The room was shrouded in an aura of mystery, and she felt a pang of uncertainty grip her heart. Nevertheless, she steeled herself against her doubts and continued her search.

As she paced back and forth, Emily's mind began to race with a thousand thoughts. She thought of the past, of all the trials and tribulations that had led her to this moment. She thought of the future, of all the challenges that lay ahead. And she thought of the present, of the task that lay before her.

With a deep breath, Emily focused her mind and began to work. She moved with a sense of purpose, her movements fluid and precise as she jut down all the items inside the room, from the cabinets to the mirrors, to the wallpaper, and the carpet on the floor. Using a sticky note she labeled the items that she thought had a chance to be restored and those that had worn over time and were beyond salvage.

She knew that time was of the essence, and she could not afford to waste more of it. So she kept labeling and taking notes. As she worked, Emily's mind began to clear. The confusion that had plagued her earlier began to dissipate, and she found herself fully immersed in the task at hand. She worked with a sense of urgency, driven by an unyielding determination to succeed. But soon, Emily felt tired. No, not tired. Dizzy. She felt light-headed as if she hadn't slept in days.

She took comfort by squatting on the floor below the portrait - not once glancing at it to prevent unwanted memories like having that weird emotion she had when she first laid eyes on it, or remembering the weird stories Oliver and the other workers told her. Soon, her dizziness took over and her eyes fluttered shut.

Emily awoke with a headache, her mind foggy and disoriented. But as her eyes fluttered open, she found herself staring at a cream carpet. It looked fluffy. Without truly thinking of it, she reached down and ran her hand over the thing. It was soft to the touch. Then a commotion that permeated from her left had her head swimming in that direction.

Her mouth fell agape, there was a young man slouched on a big cream sofa that had small flower patterns. He was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with two of its upper buttons left unclasped. He had what she surmised was a pair of black trousers. He seemed to be sleeping. His arms were resting on his lap with one loosely grasping a paintbrush. Below him, just beside his left foot was a can of red paint with its content spilled on the carpet.

Curious, Emily got up from the floor and that's when her eyes roamed the entirety of the room.

In the center of the room, there was a large oak table with finely crafted legs, surrounded by delicate chairs upholstered in soft mauve velvet. The cabinets, made of dark mahogany, were adorned with intricate carvings and contained impressive collections of art supplies - Emily knew because some were left open - including paints, brushes, and canvases.

The high ceiling was embellished with ornate cornices and an elegant chandelier that cast a warm glow around the entire room. Large windows with shirred silk curtains lined the walls, allowing natural light to flood in and accentuate the beauty of the artwork on display.

The air was filled with the soft scent of lavender and rose petals, adding to the serene atmosphere of the room. A large fireplace with a gilded mantlepiece stood against one wall, adding to the opulence of the space.

This art room was a haven for creativity, where one could be inspired by the beauty and elegance that surrounded them.

Her mouth fell agape once more. What a magnificent room, she thought to herself. But then, like a bolt of lightning it hit her, where the hell was she?

She craned her neck from left to right as panic set in. She glanced at the young man on the couch, he was still asleep. Emily walked over to the window and her eyes almost fell out of their sockets when she saw the dilapidated cobbled stone path below with men carrying cement and axes walking over it.

Her heart took a thundering beat as she slowly turned around to look at the room again. It was the..."

"Hello?" A voice cut her musing.

Emily's eyes turned wide as saucers. He was...

"What are you doing here Emily? The young man asked as he got up from the sofa. "Shouldn't you be working on fixing this room?" He walked towards her.

Emily wanted to shout but her throat seemed paralyzed and it prevented the scream bubbling inside it to come out.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude but, how did you get here?" The young man questioned. He was already a meter away from where Emily stood.

"You're..." Emily swallowed the pool of saliva in her mouth. "Pier Brice," she finished.

He smiled at her. "Yes, I am," he replied.

***

Jasper pocketed his phone as his eyes focused on the window of a room on the third floor.

A man with eyeglasses, perhaps in his early sixties donned with an expensive black and white tux and holding a cane stood behind him. "It started," he told Jasper.

Jasper turned to look at him, "Yes, it appears so," he answered.