บท 8: Fleshy Doll Has Arrived
Cillian sat in his study, his posture rigid, his legs crossed in a deliberate manner, one foot tapping impatiently against the floor.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the walls, adding to the atmosphere of tension that hung in the air.
His brother stood before him, his expression grave, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"I'm sorry, brother Cillian," he began, his voice heavy with regret. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
Cillian's jaw clenched at the apology, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his brother with a steely gaze. "How did she get in here?" he demanded, his voice sharp with anger. "And why wasn't I informed?"
His brother sighed, a weary expression crossing his face. "It was Aunty Noina," he explained, his voice tinged with resignation. "She had to leave to bury her brother, and we were short-staffed. I had to hire someone to take her place."
Cillian's nostrils flared with frustration at the mention of their longtime nanny and maid. "And you thought it wise to hire a stranger without consulting me?" he snapped, his tone laced with irritation.
His brother lowered his gaze, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes. "I thought it would be temporary," he admitted quietly. "I didn't realize the consequences until it was too late."
Cillian's anger simmered beneath the surface, his frustration mounting with each passing moment.
"How many times have I warned against new maids, especially the young, insensible ones?" he growled, his voice rising with each word. "They bring nothing but trouble."
His brother nodded, his expression contrite. "I know, brother Cillian. I should have listened to you."
But Cillian was in no mood for apologies. His mind was consumed by thoughts of his own dreadful personality.
As he stared out into the darkness beyond the window, a sense of unease settled over him like a heavy blanket, reminding him of the dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of his walls.
Cillian's frustration boiled over as he lashed out at his brother. "You never listen! You're not a kid anymore, Caspar!" he exclaimed, his voice sharp with anger.
Caspar, his brother, hung his head in shame, silently mumbling to himself, "It's all that witch's fault."
Cillian's brow furrowed as he caught Caspar's murmured words. "And what are you mumbling?" he demanded, his tone accusatory.
Caspar sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with resignation. "Brother, you have changed a lot. You were not like this before," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.
Cillian's expression softened momentarily at the sadness in his brother's voice, but he quickly shook it off.
"I can't help it," he muttered, his tone defeated. "No more maids. I'd just wait for Aunty Noina to get back," he then declared firmly, his determination evident in his voice.
"Definitely. In fact, the fleshy doll will be here soon," Caspar continued, a note of excitement creeping into his tone.
Cillian raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What fleshy doll?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
Caspar hesitated for a moment before admitting, "Err... Yes, My Doll Wife. That's the name of the doll."
He explained that he had ordered the doll from his business friend in China, and it was being delivered soon.
"Oh, that!" Cillian exclaimed, a hint of relief in his voice. "Good. At least a robot can listen and be programmed to not bring glasses or iron into my house!"
Caspar chuckled at his brother's sarcasm. "Haha, yes. Not only that, she is fleshy... hehehe."
Cillian rolled his eyes at his brother's antics. "Brat! Let's leave for the wedding first. Tell the guards to make sure to keep the delivery inside and safely."
"Sure. Let's go, brother," Caspar replied, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as they prepared to depart.
As Cillian and Caspar prepared to leave for the wedding, a delivery truck pulled up to the front of their house. The driver stepped out, hauling a large box from the back of the vehicle.
Cillian's brow furrowed in confusion as he watched the delivery unfold. "What's this?" he muttered to himself, his curiosity piqued.
Caspar approached the driver, exchanging a few words before nodding in understanding.
He turned to Cillian with a smirk. "Looks like your 'fleshy doll' has arrived," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Cillian's eyes widened in realization as he recognized the box being unloaded from the truck. "No," he whispered, a sense of dread creeping over him.
But before he could protest, the driver hoisted the box onto his shoulder and began making his way towards the house. Cillian's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the box draw closer, his mind racing with excitement and uncertainty.
As the driver reached the front door, Caspar intercepted him, exchanging a few more words before accepting a small package and sending the driver on his way.
With a light heart and a smiling face, Caspar turned to Cillian.
"It's here," he said quietly, his voice tinged with excitement. "What do you want to do?"
"Bring it inside," Cillian said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But be careful. We might not know what we're dealing with."
Together, they carefully maneuvered the box into the house, the weight of its contents hanging heavy in the air. Little did they know, within its confines lay a secret that would change their lives forever.
Cillian and Caspar carefully lowered the box onto the ground in the expansive parlour, their brows furrowed in uncertainty as they debated whether to open it then and there.
The temptation to unravel its mysteries tugged at their curiosity, but a sense of caution held them back.
"I don't know, Caspar," Cillian muttered, eyeing the box warily. "Should we open it now or wait?"
Caspar chewed on his lip, his expression conflicted. "I'm not sure, brother Cillian. We should wait till we come back from Terry's wedding."
Cillian sighed heavily, his fingers drumming nervously against his thigh. "But what if it's something... dangerous. Robots can't be trusted these days yunno and plus, what if it's the wrong thing inside the doll box?"
"You're right, brother. But I can swear my business partner would never do that. Terry even knows this guy," Caspar assured.
The weight of the decision hung heavy in the air as they exchanged uncertain glances.
After a moment of tense deliberation, they made a silent agreement and turned away from the box, their minds made up.
"Let's go," Cillian said finally, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "We can deal with this later."
With one last glance over their shoulders, they left the parlour behind, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls as they made their way out of the house and towards the waiting car.
As they drove off towards the wedding venue, the box lay forgotten in the parlour, its secrets concealed within its sturdy confines.
Little did they know, the decision to not open it there and then would come to haunt them, Cillian especially, in the days to come.
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