One step in, then a second, before you were interrupted.

"Can I fetch you a glass of champagne?" a polite, overly upper-class voice offered.

You nearly jumped out of your skin.

"No... no. Thank you." Catching yourself gawking, you tried to turn the stare into a weak smile of greeting. It was as much as you could manage with your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. It hadn't occurred to you that there might be staff at the Manor. "I don't think we've been introduced...?"

"Benjamin," he said, accompanied by a small bow. "I am the butler here at Markiplier Manor."

That much was clear. He was the epitome of a butler from head to toe; suit vest and white shirt with a classic Windsor-cut collar, curly hair, and an unassuming demeanour.

"If there is anything I can provide for an esteemed guest, please, do not hesitate to ask."

You let the question linger a moment, weighing your options. Weighing if you could trust anyone in the household. "What can you tell me about Mark?" you finally decided upon.

The butler chuffed, puffing out his chest. "The master is a splendid man, one I have the pleasure of calling a dear friend. He was quite the star, you know. An actor through and through! The Manor has been in the family some time, but when the master returned home to settle down, he renamed it after his stage persona."

That was all well and interesting, but didn't give you much insight to any of the weirdness of the place now. Nor did it seem to quite align with what you had seen of Mark thus far.

"Has anything seemed... different lately?" you tried.

"Why, not at all. We are as happy as ever, and I am proud to be a stalwart companion to the master through his ever-expanding accomplishments."

Benjamin really seemed to believe it. His delivery was a flawless blend of ardour, wistfulness, and authenticity. He made it sound so perfect.

Too perfect.

"Well, thank you," you said. He was starting to unsettle you. Though you did not doubt the butler himself—he seemed genuine, and a likeable sort—you couldn't help but feel again that there was more going on.

With a small nod of farewell, you gravitated towards the other end of the lounge, where an open door led into the dining room. Directly ahead lay another door, adjoining to the kitchen.

This time, you were more prepared to encounter a potential member of staff. You were not prepared to have a ladle aggressively waved in your face.

"No guests in the kitchen!"

The man behind the ladle was the chef. A single glance was enough to discern that; much like the butler, he wore the classic attire for his position, hat and all. He was also brusque, red-faced, and more than a little intimidating.

"Sorry—"

"You will be if you take one more step! Stew's simmering, ain't no place for meddlers."

"Right..." As much as you would have loved to question him, suspecting he might have more to say about the true state of affairs in the Manor, there was no chance he would be willing to talk to you as things stood. And definitely not in his kitchen.

You meandered back out to the lounge, thoughts revving at full speed but only kicking up dust.

"Can I fetch you a glass of champagne?"

"What?" You stared at Benjamin, who was back in the same position he had been when he first entered. "You already asked me that."

"Well, of course. If there is anything I can provide for an esteemed guest, please, do not hesitate to ask."

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