"Upton," you say to yourself, "how do you get yourself into these messes." You sit up on the side of the bed, the caretakers of the mansion had let
you inside and quickly departed, directing you to a guest room for the evening. Despite the fact that it served as temporary housing, its decor was
gaudily elegant and would've put most of the aristocracy's master bedrooms to shame, though it had fallen into disrepair. You took a moment to
survey your belongings on the nightstand, a sparse collection of notes, a revolver and the lantern still lit beside you, Its light danced along the
walls of the musty room, the illumination only making the stoic oil paintings more eerie. A view through the windows provides only blackness as
you rise to your feet wearily, the days journey had taken its toll on you. As you begin to unfasten the top button of your oxford shirt, you hear a
sound at the door.