Well, here you are, outside the Gilchrist asylum. Er, you’re sorry, mansion. This is

Well, here you are, outside the Gilchrist asylum. Er, you’re sorry, mansion. This is where you were born sixteen long, torturous years ago, and probably where you’ll die too at this rate. You’re almost impressed at how much childhood trauma Hugo has managed to inflict on you. Tea parties, slumber parties under the dining room table, happy fun bath time, maid day… the list goes on. You are a psychologist’s wet dream.

Marian, UR 1 TRU LUV a servant you suppose you’re quite close to, says you should try to appreciate the positives of living here, but you can’t even bring yourself to try for her sake anymore. Not after reading the ad your father printed in his company’s property guide just to gloat. The emphasis he put on the mansion being situated in a rather secluded part of town was too disturbing. Almost as disturbing as the fact that someone actually answered the ad and Hugo agreed to show them around the house for fun. They stayed in your room the longest. To this day you have no clue what they were doing in there.