Maya arrived in Yorkshire town within five hours. As the train slowed into the station, she stepped onto the platform and took a deep breath of cool countryside air. Without delay, she pulled her flip phone from her coat pocket, opened it with a snap, and dialed the number she had saved earlier.
The phone was one of the newest models of the 90s—sleek, black, and curved to fit snugly in her palm. The small green LED screen blinked to life, displaying faint signal bars and the battery icon. Maya didn't need anything fancy. Just a device to call, answer, and keep business running. She punched the numbers in—real buttons that clicked beneath her fingers—and pressed the call button.
"Hello, this is Maya Quinn, the private investigator. Is this Luke from the Antony residence?" she asked.
"Yes, this is Luke," came the calm, composed voice on the other end. "How may I help you?"
"I just arrived in Yorkshire," Maya replied. "Should I visit your employer before beginning the investigation?"
"Yes, that would be ideal," said Luke. "May I ask—do you have a place to stay?"
"Well… not yet. I was planning to find somewhere nearby after this."
"I see. Then may I suggest you stay in one of the Antony estate's guest manors? My master insisted on offering you accommodations."
"Is that… okay?" she asked, a little hesitant and surprised by the offer.
"Absolutely. Please wait where you are. We will send someone to pick you up."
"O-okay. Thank you," she said, slightly flustered.
After hanging up, Maya let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The offer was generous, and although she felt a little embarrassed to accept it, refusing would have seemed rude. Besides, her budget was stretched thin. She had briefly considered staying at a local bar or even sleeping in the park. This region was still recovering economically—even in peace, stability was fragile. Yet the fashion and lifestyle trends were rising fast, sometimes leading to dangerous contrasts between appearance and reality. And the government? Powerless to regulate most of it.
She waited around thirty minutes at the train station before a sleek black car pulled up in front of the waiting area. The doors opened, and a tall man stepped out. He wore a black suit, polished shoes, and had his hair tied neatly at the back. He looked to be in his mid-forties—serious, professional, and perhaps a little tired.
Maya's nerves flared up as the man approached.
"Nice to meet you. I am Luke, butler of the Antony residence. Are you Miss Maya?" he asked politely.
"Ah—yes. I'm Maya Quinn, the private investigator," she replied with a nervous pause.
"Then please, Miss. Come with me."
Maya grabbed her bag, intending to place it in the car, but Luke gently took it from her hands and loaded it into the trunk. Then he opened the car door for her, bowing slightly.
"Thank you," she said, a little flustered.
Luke got into the front passenger seat and spoke quietly to the driver, instructing him to take them to the Antony residence.
The ride lasted about forty minutes, winding through quiet town roads and scenic hills, before stopping at a large iron gate.
The driver spoke to the guard stationed there. After a moment, the gates opened, revealing a sprawling estate beyond.
Maya's eyes widened.
The manor was enormous—far beyond anything she'd expected. A stone fountain marked the center of the circular driveway, surrounded by manicured grass and elegant shrubs. The building towered above her, with high windows, stone pillars, and a blend of classical design styles.
"We've arrived, Miss," said Luke, stepping out and opening her door.
"Ah… yes," Maya replied, her voice trembling slightly.
She stepped out, staring in awe. The mansion combined the grandiosity of Roman and Grecian architecture with subtle modern touches. Ornamental columns stood alongside minimalist stone walls. It was breathtaking—striking, but not overly lavish. It had character. It had history.
Luke opened the massive front door, and Maya followed him inside.
The interior was even more impressive.
A curved staircase stood at the center of the hall, its design blooming out like a flower. Above it, a magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a golden glow across polished marble floors. The décor was tasteful—elegant and historical. Red velvet curtains framed tall windows. Classical statues lined the walls, each standing between Victorian-style oil paintings. The manor seemed to merge Victorian warmth with ancient influence, and it gave off a haunting, almost sacred feeling.
"This man really does love history," Maya thought to herself, unable to suppress a faint smile.
Luke led her down a long corridor, its floor lined with red carpet. A smaller chandelier lit the hallway. Paintings of landscapes and portraits of ancestors hung on every wall. Maya felt like she was walking through time.
They stopped at a grand double door. Luke knocked twice.
"Come in," a voice called from inside.
Luke opened the door and bowed slightly.
"Please enter, Miss. My master is waiting for you," he said respectfully.
"I see. Thank you," said Maya, gathering her breath before stepping inside.
"You're welcome, Miss," Luke replied as the doors closed gently behind her.