The phone rang at 1 a.m., and I knew it wasn’t good news; I just hoped it wasn’t as bad as the last time. As I picked it up, the voice from the other side spoke, “Miss Grimstone”.

Putting my papers away, I focused on the somber tone of the voice on the line, “Yes, Mr.Wilson. Is there an issue with the property?"

“Well, I wouldn’t be calling you at this hour, had everything has been okay, Miss Grimstone”, Mr. Wilson said gruffly. God, talking to him is like listening to a bulldozer in a library.

But as he has been seriously handling the property issue, I ignored his snaky tone and responded, “What's the current problem with the property?”

"The issues with the property hinder its sale due to the significant repairs needed, which may deter potential buyers." He replied.

"Mr. Wilson, please elaborate on the specific repairs required," I pressed, my voice steady despite the unsettling hour. His gruff demeanor softened slightly as he began detailing the estate's structural concerns. As he spoke, I scribbled notes furiously, mentally calculating the implications. This was no minor setback; it threatened to derail the entire sale. But I have to do it anyway.

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson," I finally interjected, once he had finished outlining the scope of the repairs. "I'll review the options and get back to you promptly."

After hanging up, I paced the dimly lit room, my mind racing with possibilities. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders, this was something I could only do with visiting the manor. I have to go back to Scorchfort to handle this.

The last time my phone rang in the dead of night was the night I received the news of my aunt's passing. Being her sole remaining family, I inherited not only a letter from her but also her ancient manor in Scorchfort, which honestly needed some renovation as that thing was batshit old.

The clock on the wall ticked ominously as I kicked my slippers off and sank into the bed, ready to shut off for the day. As I lay there, memories of my aunt began to swirl in my mind. Katernyna Grismstone possessed a certain eccentricity, yet her fierce protectiveness and unwavering love for me only deepened my affection. Aunt Katernyna's love was like a quilt of admiration and gratitude, each stitch a testament to her guidance and unwavering support that shaped who I am. With a sigh, I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would whisk me away from the heaviness of reality.

______________________

The next morning dawned with a sense of urgency lingering in the air, a weight pressing down on my shoulders as I prepared to make the journey back to Scorchfort. The revelations from Mr. Wilson's late-night call had set a new course for me, one that led straight to the old manor that now stood as both a legacy and a burden.

As the letter in my bag and the keys to Scorchfort Manor were tangible reminders of the journey ahead, I slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The road stretched out before me, winding through familiar landscapes that suddenly seemed alien in the dawn's early light. As I drove, memories of my aunt flooded back—her laughter, her wisdom, and now her absence, leaving behind questions I wasn't sure I was ready to face.

As the miles passed beneath my wheels, anticipation and trepidation intertwined in my heart. The road to Scorchfort was not just a physical journey—it was a pilgrimage into the heart of my family's history, where the past and present converged in ways I had yet to fully comprehend.