Lacrima: Chapter Ten
Just Another Morning
Konrad stirred awake in increments. A buzzing impression from a dream still lingered in him, as he stretched his limbs.
In a car… asleep?
Other voices. Familiar voices.
Braking tires on tarmac…
The bridge… Horns blare…
A shower of glass…
Konrad let the shiver travel through him before dying.
That didn’t happen, he thought. I’m still alive.
His heels just barely extended off the edge of the bed. The joints in his body popped. Lazily, his eyes blinked. A gray break in the thick curtains just barely signaled to his brain that morning had come. The alarm clock on his nightstand read out: 8:18 am. Konrad unfurled himself before crunching inward, holding his knees to his chest. Then, he stretched out one last time before getting to his feet.
He crept his way to the bathroom. Konrad rinsed, spat, splashed, and freshened up in front of the mirror. As he toweled his face, the routine drug of sleep peeled off him. Konrad felt strange because he felt fine. Cognitively, he knew he should be more troubled.
A man just died afterall.
Konrad unscrewed his medication, cupped the two capsules in his hand, and threw them back into his mouth. He swallowed, no extra water needed. Shaking his head, he returned the pill bottle to the cabinet on the other side of the mirror.
A man just died.
Maybe, if he kept thinking that, he would feel more like he knew he should. Yet, no matter how many times it cycled in his thoughts, Konrad felt nothing. His emotional bandwidth had long been hewn.
Four funerals will do that to you, he thought. He saw his reflection smile, before he corrected with a grimace. Still, the profound indifference he felt disturbed him.
I mean, I didn’t even know Argus that well. That’s probably it. Compared to losing family, a stranger’s nothing.
The reasoning didn’t sit right with him. It sounded callous to his inner ears. Something a psychopath would intone. He saw how the others reacted: disgusted, grief-struck, angry, and afraid. They too had known Argus for a small time, but they could muster those emotions. He could only imagine how they would have reacted to someone close to them dying.
But him? Nothing. The same statement: “A man just died.” But none of the resulting cascade that other people could achieve. Konrad slapped his cheek, letting the pain spread and prick. He had tried that as a trigger once. To remind him what that viscerally pain of loss felt like.
It didn’t work back then at the last funeral. And it didn’t work here on Lacrima either.
Konrad left the bathroom dissatisfied with himself, so he readjusted. If he couldn’t experience Argus’ death on an emotional level, he could at least understand it. That, he knew he could do. Regardless of his own human lack, Konrad’s thoughts burned with curiosity.
How did Argus die?
The question stuck with him ever since he saw the body. Of course he would be interested in this. He came to Lacrima for the mystery, afterall.
Suicide as the reason made the most sense to him. Convergently, he came to the same sticking point as Job: drowning. Konrad didn’t think Argus would have been so desperate for release that he would have drowned himself. That took a twisted sort of will to enact.
And there’s the sneaker scuffs, he remembered. He imagined Argus struggling against the door, kicking the bottom with his shoes. As far as Konrad knew, none of them could’ve locked the door because only Bae and him learned of it just before the party. There was no opportunity for either of them to commit the act. He looked through Catherine’s notes and even she didn’t note that functionality down, nor did she even mention it as a possibility, so he ruled her out. Lucille and Job both looked surprised when he mentioned that they could lock doors. That ruled those two out as well.
There’s a culprit we haven’t thought of.
Konrad smiled.
Service.
He looked around the room. The standardized cleanliness of the place gained a discomforting edge as he mused on this idea.
We’ve seen it print maps, lock doors, and make food. Who said murder was off the table?
His teeth parted and a laugh escaped his mouth. A shiver ran up his spine, delighting him. Right then and there, Konrad found himself in his element. While he couldn’t feel like the others, he damn well could help the others see the house for what it is: haunted.
Haunted by Esau? Or previous guests? Or Service? Who cares? There’s ghosts in the air! He thought with raw excitement.
Konrad leapt over to his workstation with his computer. Right as he tapped it to life, he contemplated the bag of cameras he brought. His plan charted itself out from there. He double-checked to see if he could remotely connect the cameras to his computer. Konrad opened up an application he installed. It was intended to be used by security personnel, but he had found a use for his paranormal purposes. When the camera beamed, the feed showed up on the application. He nodded happily, clicking the camera off. Konrad collected his equipment and set off from his room. He tried to think of good places to hitch the cameras to. As he did, he didn’t notice Job interrupting his path. Konrad, bumping and tripping, nearly collapsed over him.
Once he got his feet to the ground, Konrad sputtered out, “Sorry, Job!”
“No, my bad,” he replied. “I was just standing there.” He rubbed the skin around his eyes. They looked to be sagging and Job himself: hunched and preoccupied.
“Didn’t sleep well?” Konrad said, trying to cut the awkwardness of their collision.
“Not particularly, no.” Then Job’s eyes settled on Konrad. He couldn’t tell if it was just the exhaustion, but Job’s gaze particularly weighed heavy on him. The psych student pointed to the bag. “Whatcha got there?”
“Okay, this is going to sound weird,” he prefaced.
“There’s been a lot of weird stuff happening, Konrad.” Job smirked, but the mirth died quickly.
“Indeed.” Konrad punctuated with a finger pointed upwards. “That’s why I want to set up cameras around the mansion.”
“Cameras?” Job chewed the word, tasting it. “What’s the plan?”
“Let me be clear,” Konrad further emphasized, realizing the strangeness. “I’m not trying to spy on the guests.” He leaned in closer and whispered: “I want to spy on Service.”
Dark eyebrows raised, Job looked unsure. “How would you spy on a digital assistant?”
“Oh, Job, Service can’t just be a digital assistant.” He gestured to the house in general. “I want to catch it doing things out of sight.”
Job pursed his lips. “Why, though?” Deliberate curiosity etched his voice.
“Look.” Konrad returned to a whisper. “I think Service might’ve had a hand in Argus’ death. I want to record the happenings in the mansion. To get more data. I’m treating this like one of my investigations.”
Job retreated a half step and mouthed Service as he did. He felt the name around his mouth. “You might be onto something there.”
“You think?”
“I do,” he understated. He straightened up. “If you don’t mind, keep me in the loop with what you find.”
“Of course!”
Job nodded, then pivoted away. He went down the hall and disappeared down the stairs.
Konrad couldn’t shake the odd sense Job gave him. He could only assume Job found him suspicious in some way. What kind of person would want to set up cameras anyway? Konrad didn’t blame him. He never blamed anyone like that.
Slipping down the steps, Konrad got to the first floor. He planned on completing a circuit of the mansion before deciding on locations for his cameras. Konrad traced his sight along the corners and wall-seams. The high-roofed hallways might prove challenging, even for him, to reach.
I definitely want to put one in the dining hall, he thought.
His long stride brought him to his destination. Surprising, he found the rest of the guests convened there. Catherine drank from a comically large tea cup, pulling in back before pouring herself another.
Lucille waved to him with her knife as he stepped into the dining hall. She presided over a table full of select portions of food. Konrad mirrored her, excited to see her. He found himself liking Lucille, despite not having much interaction with her yet. The thoughtful invitation alone endeared him to her. Bae hunched over a sheet of egg whites with a cup of white rice on the side. An oversized sweatshirt and baggy pants hung over her frame.
“Good morning, Bae!” Konrad said, moving towards the food on the table.
“Morning.” She smiled, perking up a bit when she saw him. He poured himself a cup of orange juice before looking over the menu.
“White rice. Egg white omelette? Are these pancakes?” Konrad pointed towards a platter of blonde flapcakes. Bae nodded.
“Yes.” She then shook her head. “They’re not great.”
“Ah.” He looked down again. “This is it?”
“You could order something from the menu,” Lucille said, sliding the card over to him. Squinting, he read it over.
“Tofu and eggs… Seaweed salad… Eh, I guess with this. Hey, Service, may I have some oatmeal?”
“Your oatmeal will be delivered shortly,” Service spoke. As always in the dining room, a cart rolled out with the food. A bowl shaped like half an eggshell held the oat porridge within itself. Konrad picked up the spoon with it and slowly ate the mush.
“Not the best food I have to confess,” he said.
“It’s pretty pathetic,” Bae laughed. “There’s no spices. Pickling is a foreign art here too. And these eggs.” Bae cut a section and jiggled it with her fork. “They taste from a concentrate.”
“For such a rich guy’s retreat, why make the menu so limited?” Konrad asked. “Another mystery to ponder.”
The mood on Bae’s face darkened. She looked off to the side. Konrad realized that she thought he was making light of Argus’ death as a mere mystery. Before he could apologize, Catherine piped up.
“You brought cameras?” She downed another cup of tea.
“I did.”
Without skipping a beat, she replied: “Have you thought about where to put them up?”
“One in here?”
“Great idea,” she said. Her lips slowly creased into an ill-fitted smile. “Oooo, this is great. Konrad, you’re becoming more and more valuable by the second.”
“I am?!”
“I’ve been trying to interrogate Service, but getting recordings of it would help us understand it so much more,” she explained. She stroked her chin. “Yes, we could strategically place them and run experiments.”
“I mean I was just going to watch Service and see what it does.”
“How many cameras do you have?”
“Eight.”
“Oh, plenty. Konrad, we could execute both our ideas!” Catherine stood up, rigid and driven. “Let’s get these set up!”
“Sure!” he stammered. She pulled up a chair and pointed to the top corner.
As Konrad fanangled the camera, Catherine bared her teeth in an open grin. “This’ll help us understand the mansion so much more.”
“I guess so,” he laughed. He assumed Catherine would hold his opinion, but seeing her light up in agreement enthused him. “It might even help us figure out what might have happened with Argus.”
“I was thinking that as well.” She nodded. “We should definitely hit the hallways. And the laundry room. I have an idea for that one-”
“Speaking of Argus,” Lucille said. “When both of you are done with this, I’d like to handle his body.”
Catherine’s crooked smile melted away. “Right. Hear that Konrad. You’re up to it?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I can help,” he said. He wanted to help anyway he could. “In fact, we should give Argus his respects before setting all these up. Priorities, right?”
Konrad held the power button until a small white dot lit up.
A snapshot of the four guests in the dining room appeared on the computer screen back in Konrad’s room. The first of eight.