Lacrima: Chapter Three
Mutual Curiosity
Job came to the door with his name inscribed on a golden plaque. Everyone else had retired to their designated rooms on the second floor. He turned the knob and walked into the room. Giving a sharp whistle, Job paused to look at the fine bed in the center: king-sized, gray-blue plush comforters, and a robust, wooden frame. Job rolled his belongings and then hoisted them onto the bed. His luggage made no sound on impact and slowly depressed into the mattress. He cracked his back before joining his luggage onto the bed. Just like his possessions, he sank. Pressing his face into the covers, he laid there for a few seconds - letting the bed hold him. Absorb him.
He rolled onto his back and then squinted at the overhead fan. Instead of a single bulb, several arms curved under and out and held smaller lights to shine in the room. Six of them, to be precise.
Why are the other five here? he thought. He knew why he accepted the invitation. It was rather mundane. The email came to him after a shift at his internship.
“The King invites you to Lacrima.”
Earlier that semester, Job took an online class where he had to lead a discussion post on a random current topic affecting the therapy industry. By the whims of fate, and his professor, he had to research Esau Nebbel’s little luxury island. Job spent hours trawling forums and social media. Here’s what he could find. Esau Nebbel, well-known creator of the Solo-Mon app, disappeared from the public eye in 2012. During the next few years, several of his friends and loved ones insisted he still lived. His brother said he was “mentally recovering” on a “specially designed therapy island.” The name of this island: Lacrima. In late 2019, the first invitations to Lacrima were received. No two invitations were alike. All were personalized. Some divulged that “Esau himself learned of a new way to guide people to mental well-being” or that he “killed the demon in his brain.” In any case, the pilgrims came. Job couldn’t find the exact number of invitees nor could he validate who really received invitations and who fabricated them for a short blip of fame and attention.
Neither did he have the time. His discussion had to be up before 11:59 p.m.
Job got an 88% for his trouble and forgot about the assignment in lieu of his more difficult, in-person courses. Later on, he would resurrect that old assignment and polish it into his Master’s thesis.
Then the invitation arrived in his inbox. In the empty space where he couldn’t find answers, Job’s mind jumped to fantasy. The rumors of an advanced AI were understatements, it turned out. As was the luxury of the mansion. What else could be found here? And how could it help people be better people? That was the promise so often echoed in the invitations.
That’s why he came.
But what about the others?
Catherine seems to be motivated to understand the inner workings of the mansion. Konrad is motivated by his interest in the paranormal.
The last three: Argus, Lucille, and Bae. I’m not sure.
Job hopped off the bed and tended to his luggage. He always packed light. His few outfits, mostly polos, button-ups, and khakis, looked silly sitting in the walk-in closet. But he needed to make use of it. He plugged in and opened his laptop. Instinctively, he scrubbed over to the internet. When he clicked on the menu, he saw something he never saw before when selecting which network to connect to: nothing. Not a single network came up. Not even a chance to tap away a password. Nothing.
He looked around the room. No ethernet either. Electrical outlets, yes, but nothing to connect to the internet.
Job checked his phone.
“Your message did not send,” it read out. He tried to text his roommate that he got on the boat just fine. That he was not, in fact, in an ice bath with a conspicuous stitch on his side. He just hoped he wouldn’t be on the island too long. His roommate, Wilson, might put his face on a milk carton if he’s here longer than a few weeks.
Complete disconnection from the outside world, he thought. That might be part of the therapeutic techniques of this place. No one can bring their digital baggage with them. They would be forced to interact with the house, the guests, and Service.
“Consider me forced,” Job laughed to himself. He closed his laptop and placed it on the complimentary desk. He stepped back out into the hallway. Just as he did, he noticed another guest doing the same.
Bae Yuri waved at him - now changed into sweatpants and a compression shirt. “Job, right?”
“That is correct, Bae Yuri,” he said, smiling. Bae watched as the eyes behind his round-lensed glasses narrowed. She wondered what he thought of her. Though, she wondered what everyone thought of her. Bae wished “thought broadcasting” wasn’t just a delusion. For her, Job Bezalel cut an air of sophistication to him. She was particularly curious about him. He had lovely brown skin with dark ringlets of hair which swept off his scalp. The man obviously took care to trim and tame the beard which puffed off his cheeks and chin. She noticed the broadness of his neck and thick cords of his forearms.
“Do you work out?” she asked.
“Not religiously,” he said. “But I can tell you do.”
“Oh, thank you.” Bae rubbed the back of her neck. “Say, I was wondering if this place had a gym. I didn’t see one on Catherine’s map, but I thought I would look. I’d like someone to walk around with me. If you don’t mind-”
“Not at all,” Job interrupted gently. “The only rooms on this floor are our bedrooms, so we’ll be scouring the first floor.”
“Right. Right.” They already started towards the staircase.
“Job Bezalel. Psychology student and wannabe counselor. New York,” he listed off, pointing to himself. He jabbed a thumb to her. “Bae Yuri. South Korea to New Jersey. Fitness influencer.” Job scoffed into a grin. “How little us guests know of each other!”
“I mean we all just met and this whole mansion is grabbing all our attention and…” Bae decelerated, realizing she was rambling again. People didn’t like when she rambled, she told herself too many times. “You’re right.”
“Speaking of the mansion,” he said as they began descending the steps. “What brought you here? Why take the plunge?”
“Well…” Bae thought about it. Either she could give the long, harrowing account or the short and sweet one. She elected to give the easier story. “I’ve been bouncing between different therapies for a while. Turns out I need something a little more intense. A hard reset. Lacrima is said to do that. A good friend of mine came here.”
“Really?” Intrigue dripped off Job’s tongue. He wanted to hear more, so Bae obliged.
“Yes, Daniel. He was one of the first people I met in the states. Brown-hair. Loves plaid for some godforsaken reason. Adores hiking. That’s really how I met him…”
Again, you’re rambling, she thought.
“Daniel came here a few years ago. Said it was the best thing that ever happened to him. He wouldn’t go into details though. ‘If you get the chance, go there. Just be careful. It isn’t for everyone.’”
“Did he elaborate?”
Bae shook her head. “Not even a little bit. I will say, Dan was weird talking about Lacrima. Outwardly, he praised it. The second I probed for specifics, however, he would get this look on his face. I can’t describe it. Here.” She put a hand to Job’s barrel chest to stop him. Job watched as Bae’s round, bright face darkened. The corners of her lips turned downward. Her brow stiffened and her eyes stared off to the middle distance.
“A pained expression?”
“Yeah, but more complicated.” Her assumed expression melted and the pair continued their walk. They reached the entrance and elected to go the opposite direction. Bae and Job already saw what the rightmost wing had in store. “Like, the ‘just be careful’ bore more than weight than he wished to explain.”
Job nodded, fascinated. His head craned as they walked past a room full of typewriters. Lucille had planted herself among the tables and tapped along contentedly. A pile of papers laid next to her. He elected to leave her to her peace.
“He has a zen garden,” Bae noticed. Job swiveled to what she directed her attention to. Indeed, the window showed an even plane of sand with a rake set against the wall. Islands of rocks disrupted the sandy ripples.
They kept moving, passing the laundry room, an indoor pool, and a library. Job noted a full greenhouse even. After a while, the pair reached the dining room on the other wing.
“We made a full circuit,” Bae noted.
“And no gym in sight,” Job said, rubbing the hairs in his beard. The light glanced off his glasses. “There’s one person I, strangely, haven’t thought of yet…”
“Excuse me, who are you talking about?”
“Ah, just an aside to myself.” He raised his palms in embarrassment. “Thinking aloud. But, what you said earlier: ‘He has a zen garden.’ It’s got me thinking. I’ve only thought of the mansion as our setting, but Esau designed and built this place. More than our own homes. These really and truly are his. He has several relaxation style rooms, but no gym. No entertainment room. No ‘man cave.’”
“Wasn’t this place designed for guests, though?” Bae Yuri asked. “This wasn’t Esau’s home first, then he decided to let people in. This was built from the ground up, I believe. That might explain the multiple rooms dedicated to different types of comfort.”
“That’s a good point. I didn’t think of that.” Job smiled at her. “I’ll have to talk with you more often.” He slyly gave a wink. Bae felt her face flush, but Job continued on his thinking. “But how do you know Esau built this for his guests? I couldn’t find much on why he bounced off to Lacrima.”
“Daniel mentioned it. He showed me his invitation when I told him I got mine. The body of the email said something to the effect of: ‘specially designed for your comfort and leisure. This is your home as much as it’s Esau’s.’ That last line. I know I just quoted it word for word. I remember it very well.”
Job hummed. “If only you get a hold of him now. We’ll have to work off your memory.”
No matter how fallible human memory may be, he thought. It’s all we got for right now.
Bae looked down the hall. “Do you hear that?”
Job snapped out from his thought process. The stiff shudder of a doorknob clashing against its own locking mechanism banged again and again to them. Bae led the way, as Job followed. They saw Argus enveloped over the door. He was just about to shoulder check into the door when he saw the two approach. His grim expression became lacquered in a golden, manicured grin.
“Job! Bae! Does this door not seem peculiar?”
“What about it, Argus?” Bae asked, as he gestured to the knob.
“It’s locked,” Argus said. When he saw that it didn’t really answer her question, he continued: “And it’s the only one locked in the house.”
“You’re right,” Job observed. “Not even our bedrooms are locked.”
A frightened look passed Bae’s face at that realization, but she stored away the fear. “Argus, do you know what’s in that room?”
“No. And that’s exactly why I want to get in,” Argus stated, as if it were obvious. “Every room, except the bedrooms, have windows which peer into the hallway. This one also doesn’t. Surely, you two are curious about what might be inside.”
“Maybe, but we are technically in someone’s house,” Bae mentioned. “We’re guests. If a door is locked, I would assume Esau doesn’t want us trouncing in there.”
“And if Esau cared so much, why isn’t he here?” A twinge of frustration sparked on Argus’ tongue. Job noticed that it didn’t seem focused on Bae, but at Esau. The way Argus nearly stabbed out their host’s name gave it away.
“Did you try asking Service?” Job asked.
“No, I-” Argus tripped over his words. “It never came to me.”
Job called out: “Service, is it possible we could open this door?”
Vibrationous static buzzed on the thick-paned glass of the window. Service approached against the background of the heavy rain. “Apologies, Job. That door leads to the master’s personal office. He is a very private man. Let us assure you: the master gives his whole house to you. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, thank you.”
A pause. “You’re most welcome.” Job couldn’t help but hear an undertone to the modulated, synthetic voice. What human emotion it was emulating though, he couldn’t parse. “Well, there you go, Argus. Mystery solved.”
Argus straightened his tie and coat. “I suppose so.” He sounded unsatisfied.
“You want to see what’s inside?” Job asked.
“No,” Argus jabbed firmly. Job guessed that was a lie, but he dropped the matter. Instead, he wanted to cast a different line.
“I will say. It is strange that Esau isn’t here.”
“Exactly,” Argus sighed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get at.”
Bae nodded absently.
“Not much to see here then.” He waved them goodbye again and headed to the staircase. “Tah. Tah.”
When he was gone, Bae looked at Job and whispered. “I’m not the only one who thinks there’s something off about him.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, hushed. That same question echoed through his head: why are the other five here? Argus remained an enigma.
The muted sound of raindrops drummed against the window outside. They didn’t hear the peal of thunder, but both Bae and Job saw the flash of lightning glare off the glass.
She looked back at him. “Guess I’ll work out in my room. Hate to cut this short.”
“Me as well,” Job smiled. “Some other time.”
“Please.” She blinked twice. “I mean - sure.”
Bae left Job alone in the hallway. Butterflies fluttered inside him. The little details of Bae lingered in his mind. Her sleek, black hair cut to a bob. The gentle curve of her nose. The way her neck sloped to her collarbone…
Hold on there, he told himself. He tapped his forehead. Think with this head. Let’s not disappoint another person, even if she is interested.
His impartial investigation now shifted to his own base interests. Job’s mind always found itself wandering to romance.
Catherine has a subtle grace to her, but she’s probably too old for me. That definitely wouldn’t work out…
“How’s the place looking to you?”
Job turned around to see Lucille leaned up against the wall. He did not have the luxury of casting off the sights of Lucille. She wore a lovely skirt and sweater combination. Blue really was her color. Long brown hair went down straight to her lower back. Her sharp nose twitched and her expression folded her softly freckled cheeks.
And those eyes…
They disturbed him with the bright, yet soft blue they were, vibrantly ethereal. The wings of the butterflies tore up a cyclone within.
“A little quiet,” Job remarked, trying to derail his own thoughts. “But it seems nice enough.”
“You sound a little disappointed?” she asked. “I think this place is amazing! This is just what I wanted.”
“It’s a bit still for my liking,” Job said. “Not much happening.”
“Well, that’s where you need an eye for things,” she said. She flapped her hand and pivoted. “Come. I’ll show you my favorite room in the mansion.”
Lucille led him inside the greenhouse he had passed earlier with Bae. Inside, a dense jungle pulsed with floral life. He slipped into the greenhouse. The controlled temperature of the hallways gave way to the humid heat of this room. Shelves of earth with plants lined the glass walls. This was the first time he really felt and heard the storm which raged outside while inside the mansion. She walked over to a bench and tapped the other end. Job obliged and sat down next to her. He craned his head to see all the dangling vines, pastel flowers, and shrubbery.
“The plants are a nice change of scenery,” he said, looking back at her. Oh, how he wanted to keep looking at her, but he chastised himself and glanced away.
“They are nice,” she replied. “But did you see what’s outside?”
Job squinted. Through the slicing rain, he saw a wonderfully blue lake being struck by the ongoing storm. A sharp incline rose up and supported the beginnings of a forest. With how curated and artificial everything in the mansion was, the unmanned nature outdoors refreshed him.
“What do you like most about this sight?” he said, catching himself looking at her again.
“The lake.” Lucille said as if it was obvious. “I’ve never seen waters that blue.”
“Me neither,” he agreed. “I’d be gorgeous to see on a sunny day.”
Lucille looked at him. “I think it’s perfect the way it is.”
Their stare lingered. A bit flummoxed, Job pressed his tongue to his teeth.
“That’s all I wanted to show you,” she said. Lucille put a hand to Job’s back and slid her fingers across his shoulders. Shivers fell down through him. “I’m organizing a bit of a get-together for everyone, by-the-by. Does seven o’ clock work for you?”
“Sure.”
She winked. “See you then.”
Lucille exited the greenhouse without any more fanfare.
Oh no. Job shook himself out. The heat of the greenhouse seemed to intensify. She’s going to ruin me.