Morning light spilled into the hall, catching the mess first—empty bottles, overturned glasses, and three grown men sprawled across the floor like casualties of a very personal war with alcohol.
Evelyn stopped dead.
"…What the hell?" she muttered, staring at Daniel facedown on the rug, one arm flung dramatically over an empty bottle.
Elizabeth blinked, taking in the other two unfamiliar men snoring nearby. "Are those… his friends?"
Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. Daniel does not have this type of friends."
One of the strangers let out a heroic snore and rolled over, mumbling something about "just one more drink."
Elizabeth looked from the men to the bottles, then back to Daniel.
"…Did he invite them over because we threw him out of the room?"
Evelyn hesitated. "…Maybe," she admitted, frowning. "We might have been a little harsh."
At that moment, Daniel stirred. He squinted against the light, then slowly opened his eyes—just enough to register two familiar figures standing over him.
"Good morning," he muttered, voice rough. "Five more minutes."
Evelyn stared down at him. "Five more minutes?"
Daniel shifted again, hugging the bottle like a pillow.
"Mm. Waking up is a future problem."
"Then tell me," Evelyn said slowly, pointing at the two unfamiliar men sprawled on the floor, "who are they?"
Daniel cracked one eye open. "Oh. Them?"
He waved a lazy hand in their direction. "Thieves. They came to rob the house."
Elizabeth blinked. "Thieves?"
"Former thieves," Daniel corrected. "Plans changed. We drank instead."
Evelyn stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
"…You drank with people who broke into our house?" she asked.
"They were very bad at it," Daniel said defensively. "Honestly, I felt rude not to offer them something."
Elizabeth looked at the two men again—snoring, one arm draped over an empty bottle. "You didn't call the police."
Daniel frowned, as if that idea had never occurred to him. "Why would I? They were sad. One of them cried about a dog."
Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Daniel."
"Yes, dear?"
"This is not normal."
Daniel smiled faintly, eyes already closing again. "That's what they said too."
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Evelyn. "…What do we do now?"
Evelyn sighed. "We wait for him to wake up."
***
After the trio sobered up—heads pounding, mouths dry, and dignity only partially intact—Daniel made a decision.
"You two are terrible thieves," he said calmly, as if delivering a weather report. "Absolutely no talent for it."
The two men exchanged a glance. One of them opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure whether to be offended or relieved.
"So," Daniel continued, stretching his arms, "you might as well work here."
"…Work?" the first one repeated slowly.
"Yes," Daniel said. "In the mansion. Guarding it. Cleaning. Fixing things. Anything that doesn't involve breaking into houses at night."
The second thief blinked. "You… want us to protect the place we tried to rob?"
"Exactly," Daniel replied.
Their mouths fell open.
It was already strange enough—being offered a drink instead of getting beaten or arrested—but this?
This crossed into deeply concerning territory.
The first man scratched his head. "You don't think that, y'know… once you leave, we'll just rob the place?" he asked carefully, testing how suicidal honesty felt.
Daniel looked at him for a second. Then he smiled.
"There's something you should know about me," he said calmly. "I'm not human."
The two thieves shared a glance.
Yep. Weirdo, the look said. Definitely not human.
Then—just for a moment—the lights flickered.
Behind Daniel, shadows stretched where they shouldn't have. The walls seemed deeper, longer. Shapes stood there that weren't reflections, weren't furniture, and absolutely weren't friendly. Cold eyes opened in the dark like someone blinking awake.
The room felt… watched.
Then everything snapped back to normal.
Silence.
The two men screamed, tripped over each other, and ended up plastered against the far wall, breathing like they'd just outrun death itself.
"What—WHAT WAS THAT?!" one of them yelled.
Daniel tilted his head. "Oh. You saw that?"
They nodded so hard it looked painful.
"Good," Daniel said pleasantly. "Then we're clear."
"No robbing," the first one said instantly.
"Ever," the second added. "Not this house. Not this street. Not this postcode."
Whatever they'd seen still clung to their eyeballs. Horror-show levels of nope. At that point, Daniel saying he wasn't human felt less like bragging and more like a public safety announcement.
"So—what are your names?" neither of them hesitated.
"R-Ronnie," the first one said quickly, a little too quickly. He swallowed. "Just Ronnie."
The second cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to look dignified. "Arthur. But… people call me Art."
Daniel nodded, committing them to memory.
"Ronnie. Art. Good," Daniel said, nodding. "Much easier than the two idiots who tried to rob my house."
He stretched casually, like he hadn't just traumatized two grown men for life.
"So. I'm Daniel. Your boss."
Both men straightened again—reflex at this point.
"The two women you saw earlier?" he continued. "They're my wives. You don't need to know anything more than that, and for your own mental health, I recommend you don't ask."
Ronnie opened his mouth, thought better of it, and shut it again.
"I don't stay in the mansion much," Daniel went on. "So you two will take care of the place. Cleaning, maintenance, keeping other idiots from robbing it—basic stuff."
He waved a hand. "Money's in the safe. Code's 1999. There's also monthly income from some businesses. Use it however you like. Pay yourselves. Buy food. Don't burn the house down."
Art blinked. "That's… it?"
"That's it," Daniel said. "Your only real job is to make sure my house is still standing when I come back."
The two men stared at him.
This wasn't employment. This was charity wrapped in menace.
Ronnie glanced at Art. Art glanced back. They both nodded at the exact same time.
"Yes, boss," they said in unison.
Elizabeth and Evelyn came down the stairs with packed bags, moving in sync like they'd planned this for days.
Daniel looked up and nodded. "Well. Seems you two are ready for the trip."
Before either of the new hires could process that sentence, Daniel reached out, took the luggage—
—and casually threw it into thin air.
The bags vanished.
Ronnie's jaw dropped. Art's soul briefly left his body.
"…Where," Art croaked, "did the bags go?"
"Inventory," Daniel replied, as if that explained everything. Which, to him, it did.
Before they could ask what that meant, a blue portal bloomed open in the middle of the hall, light spilling across the floor.
Daniel paused, then added casually, "Oh—and my brother-in-law drops by sometimes. Name's Jonathan. You'll recognize him immediately."
"How?" Ronnie asked weakly.
"He looks like a drunkard," Daniel said. "Because he is."
That, somehow, was the least alarming thing said so far.
Daniel took Evelyn's hand with one, Elizabeth's with the other. "Alright. Let's go."
They stepped into the portal together.
The light folded in on itself.
And then—nothing.
The hall was silent.
Ronnie and Art stood there, staring at the empty space where three people—and reality—had just left.
After a long moment, Ronnie exhaled. "So."
Art nodded. "We clean the house. We don't rob it. And we never, ever, ask questions."
Ronnie looked at the spot where the portal had been. "Best job I've ever had."
*****
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