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When Ganji arrives to the manor, there is no one there except for a single silent servant, who does not answer his questions and instead ushers him towards the room he’s staying in. He goes to the room directed, and soon finds a reason for the silence when he finds a letter on the desk. It’s addressed to him, and at the top is labeled ‘INSTRUCTIONS FOR PARTICIPANTS OF GAME #3.’
It’s very simple and to the point, greeting Ganji briefly before getting straight to the rules.
‘1. The main game will start in one month’s time, to allow for preparations to be made. Instructions for the main game will be given closer to the time for the game.
2. Breakfast is served at 8 AM sharp. Lunch is at 12 PM sharp. Dinner is served at 6 PM sharp. All meals are served in the dining hall on the first floor, on the right when facing away from the main door. You must attend dinner at least once a week, on Sunday, but will be allowed to take your food in your rooms for the remainder of the time if you like.
3. You must write in your assigned diaries at least a paragraph every day. You may do this whenever you wish, but it must be once a day. If you are found to have skipped more than three days total, you will harshly punished and removed from the game.
4. You may explore the rest of the manor at your leisure during the duration of preparation time, but beware of what you might find.
5. For this portion of the game, it is strictly forbidden to verbally communicate with other participants. You may use writing, sign language, gestures, or any other means of nonverbal communication, but speaking aloud is forbidden. Disobedience of this rule counts as forfeit from the game.’
That’s when Ganji knew the game was rigged against him. That third and fifth rule. Because while he could read English just fine, his writing left something to be desired. And he also knew exactly how he would come off to others without speaking. How he’d come off to white people, anyway. Maybe he’d be lucky. Maybe there’d be one person like him in there. And what do you know, it’s Sunday, so he’ll be forced to find out.
Briefly he considers turning around and leaving this manor and it’s complicated, rigged rules behind. But no. The Baron has something of Ganji’s that he just can’t leave behind. Not again. Ganji unpacks his sheep plush and contemplates the little boy who used to play with it. He hopes he’s okay, wherever he is.
—
Annie is nervous when she reads the instructions. The strict rules of all this give her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, like something bad is going to happen. She thinks of turning back. After all, the money doesn’t appeal to her. Her toy shop is wildly successful and her employees are kind hearted women who care for children as much as she. Annie could stay in her little bubble that Madam Keogh helped her craft and culminate. But no— she couldn’t let those two get away so easily. She would find her father and husband, and she would make them pay. There was no other way. She unpacks her toys, and takes a glider out. It needs to be painted, and Annie plans to do so after dinner. It’s nearly six, so looks like she’ll be going now.
At the dining table were three men. Annie stiffened considerably, trying to soothe herself. There were plenty of little boys who were perfectly kind, she can’t get nervous over every man she meets. They couldn’t all be like those two bastards, it was simple probability. The dinner tonight is steak Diane.
She observes the other participants.
The shortest man has grey hair in a small ponytail, but looks quite young. He wears grey, formal looking clothes and a medical mask. His eyes are silver and he is not looking at her, but staring directly at the tallest man. Besides him he carries a box of some kind. Not a suitcase, not a briefcase, and not a painting kit. Annie isn’t sure what it could be.
The second tallest man is dark skinned with a blue headband around his forehead, slightly obscuring his dark hair, has a cricket bat strapped to his back, and wears off-white clothes. Annie mentally dubs him the ‘cricket player’. He looks quite peeved, staring at his food, and Annie decides not to bother him.
The tallest of the men is blonde, and clad in a red postman’s uniform. He smiles quite kindly at her, and Annie entertains the notion of smiling back, before she realizes with horror that his lips are sewn shut. His brows pinch with sympathy, noticing her horror, and he passes her a letter.
Curious, she opens it.
‘Dear Participant,
My name is Victor, and I am a postman. It’s very nice to meet you! Please do not mind my stitches. It’s a very long story, but they do not hurt, so don’t worry about them. I read the rules that we aren’t allowed to speak aloud, and have decided to write these letters to all three of you to let you know that I am willing to courier any notes you wish to share with each other. Just let me know and I will deliver them.
Sincerely,
Victor’
Annie nods at the postman, smiling just a bit. She’s not sure she’ll need the service, but it’s a kind thing to offer. He seems like he takes pride in his job, so she will at least consider writing him a letter, even if he can’t exactly deliver it to himself. It might be fun, especially if they’ll be here a month for preparations.
Annie suddenly realizes that the grey haired man has not touched his food. He’s been staring at the postman since he got here. Victor seems to have noticed, and looks vaguely uncomfortable.
Annie taps the table, getting both of the other two men’s attention. She mimes eating her food. The grey haired man looks embarrassed at having been caught, and his gaze finally breaks from Victor. The cricket player looks confused, thinking from his place before the grey-haired man that Annie was miming to him, but obeys and eats quite easily. Both things make Annie feel a bit better. For one, maybe the cricket player isn’t as grumpy as he seems. And for another, the grey haired man’s unblinking stare was making her uncomfortable. Victor, for his part, gives her a grateful smile, and raises his hands to his face, seeming to take out his stitches. Annie looks away politely, deciding to eat her own food. The rest of dinner is silent. She never did get to paint her glider, but she’d do it at dinner tomorrow. She preferred to eat while she worked, anyway.
—
Ganji had already planned to take all his meals in the dining hall. He didn’t know how these people did it, but he balked at the idea of possibly getting food stains in his borrowed room. It was just asking for rats and ants, in his opinion. Besides, it was some kind of normalcy. Back at the manor, the little Viscount took his meals with Ganji, and they talked about cricket together throughout it. Ganji could at least hold onto those memories in this time. The other three participants seemed… fine. The postman was nice enough, with the letter he’d given Ganji at dinner last night. The man with the case was unnerving, really. The girl with colorful clothes, well, Ganji wasn’t sure about her. She reminded him to eat, but he wasn’t sure if it was meant as a patronizing act or a legitimate reminder.
He decided to bring the sheep plush with him this time. He planned to find a servant after dinner and have them fix the tear that had been torn in it. He didn’t want to risk the stuffing falling out. He was not exactly surprised to see that he was the only one at dinner. He decided to eat quickly.
The footsteps surprised him, and looking up with his face stuffed he found the girl, holding a set of paints, a jar of water, and a toy glider. Ganji swallowed his food awkwardly. The lady smiled and sat in her usual spot a chair away. She opened the set of paints, and Ganji watched in fascination as she began to paint the toy glider with bright colors, eating in between brushstrokes. She must be a toy maker. Maybe she could fix this plush for him…
When one side was finished, the lady with colorful clothes put the glider aside to dry and started to eat. She glanced at him, and paused as she saw the toy plush.
—
Annie had only just noticed that the cricket player had brought a sheep plushie to dinner. It was sat carefully near his plate with care, like he was trying to make sure it sat up properly. It had a tear though… She couldn’t help herself— whenever she sees a toy, she can’t help but want to add it to her collection. She reaches out for it, pointing to it.
The man with the sheep plush blinks, but carefully hands over the doll. From her skirt pocket Annie takes a sewing kit, and gets to work. It’s a very simple tear, not too big, and an easy fix. It won’t even be too obvious that she had to sew it back up. She hands it back to the man, who takes it.
He looks down at the plush, feeling the stitch. Then he looks up at her, and gives a brilliant smile. It reminds her of a child’s smile, innocent and bright. She wants to see it again.
She decides to write her first note.
—
Victor delivers Ganji a small note, with loopy handwriting.
‘I ate dinner with you last night. I wanted to ask you whose plush that was? Is it yours? Or does it belong to a child you know? I hope it’s not rude to ask.’
Ganji smiles, despite himself. This must be a note from the toy maker. She seemed kind, to fix his doll for him, right there on the spot, without asking for payment. He owed it to her to try to answer. He quickly grabs a pen and paper and gestures for Victor to wait.
—
Annie is in the gardens during the day, exploring. Once they were well taken care of, but now they are overgrown. They’re in need of a good gardener. However, they’re peaceful.
She hears footsteps, and looks up to see Victor, carrying a note. He hands it to her. Annie feels a bit excited. Did the man with the sheep plush answer her already? She reads the note.
‘It’s mine. But I know a little boy who loves to play with it. After the game he will play with it again. Thank you for fixing.’ The writing is a bit broken, but Annie sympathizes. English must not be his first language. Annie leaves the garden, eager to write him another note.
—
After three days, they receive a letter from the Baron, who none of them have seen so far. It discourages them from disclosing their names to participants. Victor, who disclosed his name to all three, looks haunted when he shows up for breakfast that morning. The man with the sheep plush pats his shoulder comfortingly, and Annie watches in sympathy. She elects to throw away her introductory note, and to be careful what she writes.
—
‘What’s your favorite toy?’ Annie’s note asks.
‘Soft ones, or ones that are sport like. What are yours?’ Comes the response.
‘Gliders and catapults. Would you like to see ones I made?’ She responds back.
‘I would. Come to the garden after lunch.’
—
Annie brings her best catapult and glider with her to lunch. She and the man with the sheep plush eat together in comfortable silence. He smiles at her, and she returns it. She likes to think that maybe they’re friends. Maybe, at least, they’re beginning to be. She never had friends, was never allowed. Her only kind companion was her mother’s lawyer.
She sits the catapult in the garden, and the man with the sheep plush watches from afar. She uses the catapult, and launches herself in the air, quickly pulling out her glider. She sails swiftly downwards, laughing to herself. She looks down, and sees that the man has lurched himself towards her. He’s standing now, but it seemed like he was prepared to catch her. Now he watches her with an amazed smile.
Annie isn’t sure she wants anyone touching her, but the sentiment that he wanted to protect her from harm is nice. No one has ever wanted to protect her before. No one but her mother.
—
They had been exploring the halls together when he suddenly freezes up. Annie looks at him questioningly.
With no warning the man with the sheep plush pulls her away, down the hall, and Annie freezes, mind going some place else. To her mind, she’s not in a manor, but trapped back at home. She’s being loomed over by her father.
She’s brought back by the sounds of heavy footsteps. Around the corner, where they once stood, she catches a glimpse of something large and imposing walking by. It pauses, and Annie ducks back behind the wall. For a moment there is silence. Then the terrifying figure’s heavy steps continue down the hall, away from them. They wait until they can’t hear them anymore, before Annie lets out a sigh of relief, sliding down the wall. She’s still shaken, but if it wasn’t for the man pulling her away—
Her own thoughts are cut off as the cricket player bows ridiculously low to her. She can see part of his face at this angle, and he looks stricken and ashamed. She realizes faintly he’s bowing in apology. The mere fact that he could tell he did something wrong and immediately went to make amends is more than any other man has done for her. She reaches out and places a hand on his dark curls, patting them. The man with the sheep plush looks up at her, still looking worried, and she smiles weakly at him. She hopes it will tell him that all is forgiven.
—
The toy maker has been hurt before. Ganji could tell by the look in her eyes when he grabbed her arm. She looked like she retreated into herself; the light faded from her eyes. She looked like she was somewhere else.
He’d seen that look in his own eyes enough to know what it meant. Even if if he was just trying to protect her, he felt ashamed for reigniting that hurt. He never wanted to hurt her, but he can’t say sorry. So he bows, as low as he can.
There’s a soft hand on his hair. He looks up, and the toy maker smiles. It’s such a sweet smile. Ganji is starting to think that he would do just about anything to protect that smile.
—
It gets easier to communicate nonverbally with the toy maker, which is good, because it delays Ganji inevitably needing to brush up on his English. He’s been doing well so far, but his writing is only barely enough to hold a written conversation, and he’s already gotten confused on a few terms and words in their notes before. The toy maker is patient, but Ganji simply wants to communicate better with her. But for now, it goes delayed.
They’ve been here about a week and a half, and Ganji’s day goes something like this: He goes to breakfast with the toy maker, they eat together, and from there, it depends. Sometimes Victor joins, but often he doesn’t. Often he and the toy maker have something to show each other. Sometimes the toy maker wants to go exploring, and gestures him along to follow her. Sometimes they go out to the garden and toss a cricket ball to each other, like a little game of catch. Sometimes she brings a little notepad, and they exchange written notes over the table. He finds out a lot about her. English isn’t her first language either, her favorite colors are red, yellow, and blue, she likes flower patterns, and she doesn’t like it when people call wildflowers weeds. It’s nice. Ganji wasn’t planning to make friends here, but it’s nice to have someone to spend time with. They have similar interests, and he admires her talent. He dares to hope that they’ll keep in touch after this.
The little viscount would love her.
—
On the Sunday of the second week, seating arrangements have shifted. The last two Sundays, it was them all on one side of the table, with left to right the order being the grey haired man, Ganji, Victor, and the toy maker. They still sit on the same side, but now the toy maker has begun to sit next to Ganji, and Victor sits next to the grey haired man. The grey haired man has never joined them at meals except on the required Sundays, but now he’s back. His presence makes things a bit unsettling. Ganji officially declares this guy the ‘creepy guy.’ The creepy guy still stares at Victor, but Victor no longer seems uncomfortable with it.
—
The toy maker invites Ganji to her room. Ganji can see the bravery for what it is, because he’s seen her every day, and he knows that she has been hurt. He knows very well that something terrible happened to her. It’s why he never touches her first unless there’s no other choice. And it’s why when she invites him into her safe space he knows that it’s a invitation he can’t take lightly.
He comes in and makes sure he keeps a safe distance from her. Makes sure he doesn’t block the door. She’s extremely stiff at first, but the more he stays away from the door, the more she relaxes. He knows it’s because she’s assured that she will have an easy escape if needed. He stays his distance as she shows him her collection of toys she brought, all the ones she was working on making. She shows him a sketchbook full of toy ideas, and he’s gentle when flipping through it. He smiles and nods and tries to express how much he’s enjoying himself through his expressions. He thinks she understands.
Eventually she comes right up to him, and puts her hand near his face, eyes asking permission. He nods. She touches his cheek, and Ganji lets himself go lax as the toy maker tilts his face and examines him. He knows it’s exposure therapy. He knows she’s trying to take control of that hurt. He knows he’s practice for overcoming that fear of men he knows she has. Her soft smile is worth it all.
—
At some point, Annie starts calling the man with the sheep plush her friend, her companion. She hopes he doesn’t mind. He’s kind, and he seems to understand heavily how pain works. He’s respectful of hers in a way that only experience grants.
She can’t completely trust her friend, though. Part of her wishes her fiancé hell for it. Because Annie knows that before she would have given the man with the sheep plush her full trust. Before, she wouldn’t have to act so hot and cold. Part of her wonders if it’s for the better. After all, they’re all here for something.
She invites him to her room again.
—
‘Why did you come to this place?’ The toy maker’s note asks, as she passes it to the man that sits in her desk chair.
Ganji bites his lip, and takes the notepad. ‘My English is not good enough to explain. But I will tell you as soon as I find the words.’ He writes, and hands her the note.
She smiles, and her hand gently touches his cheek. He leans into it. He only met her two and a half weeks ago, but he’d really do just about anything for that smile.
—
Ganji accidentally scares Victor. He’s just so determined to learn to write that he kind of barges in on the poor man. He bows low, offering the note of explanation, and the postman chuckles nervously. He reads it, and as Ganji looks up, Victor’s eyes light up. He practically pulls the man inside.
The next few hours are whirlwind lessons in the finer aspects of written English. Victor is a surprisingly good teacher, and Ganji appreciates him for his eager help. Steadily, Ganji improves. He wants to tell the toy maker why he’s here before the main game starts, which is getting closer every day. But he knows that he’s nearly there.
During one long lesson, there’s a knock on the door. Ganji freezes, but Victor is unbothered. The postman gets up and goes to the door. Ganji watches, confused, as Victor crouches by the door and presses his ear to the door. There’s a little hiss click sound from beyond the door. Ganji heard it once before; when that creepy guy opened his case once during dinner.
Maybe Victor is scared. Ganji will protect him too. He really dislikes that creepy guy and his staring, how he looks at all of them with calculating eyes. If he starts staring at the toy maker the way he stares at Victor, Ganji might do something he regrets.
Footsteps walk away. Victor waits until they’re gone, retrieves the letter from under his door, and takes a minute to read it. He… smiles? Then, Victor walks over to his bedside, opens a box full of notes, and puts it inside.
Ganji doesn’t register what that means until he’s cleaning up his work space and notices that his and the toy maker’s notes are all stacked in separate piles on top of the desk. The only pile missing is the creepy guy’s.
Ganji connects the dots, and wishes he didn’t.
—
Annie has a baby doll in her collection which she will never sell. She brought it with her because she loves it— it’s her child. Her name is Alice, and she’s Annie’s daughter. She’s alive and well and Annie takes very good care of her. Alice is still very much just a doll, but it soothes the pain of what happened to Annie to think that Alice isn’t.
Today she woke up after a horrible dream of the day the doctor told her she had lost her baby. So she carried Alice on her hip like she was alive down to the dining room and pretended to feed her tiny bits of breakfast.
Annie’s companion is there, and he looks confused at first, but doesn’t ask for an explanation. He watches her for a while, and starts to smile. It’s a gentle, warm smile. Annie likes it.
After breakfast, he offers his arms out to hold Alice, and Annie tentatively lets him. Her companion holds the baby with practiced ease, playing along with her fantasy. He bounces her a little, like one does to keep a real toddler entertained, and chuckles warmly.
He would make a good father.
Annie always kept Alice’s father as a blank in her head. This fantasy of hers could be a little incomplete if she wanted it to be. It was just play pretend, after all.
And since it was her fantasy, it would be fine to indulge a little wouldn’t it? It’s okay to fill in the blank with a suitable candidate. She’s not hurting anyone by just thinking of her companion as a possible father for her baby. As long as she keeps it to herself.
They play together with the doll all day.
—
Ganji approaches the toy maker at dinner with a note, after a full day of brushing up on English one last time.
‘I have the words to tell you why I’m here.’ The note reads.
The toy maker stills, and nods solemnly. She takes his wrist in her hand, and pulls him to her room.
At her desk, he writes down the story of Ganji Gupta, in the best detail he can muster. He doesn’t give his name, but he leaves nothing else out. His acceptance into a cricket team, the prejudice against him for his race, him learning English from the manor owner’s child… and most importantly, the child himself. The little viscount.
Benji was innocent, in all of the crimes his father committed. He admired Ganji above all the other players, and went out of his way to be kind and thoughtful to him. It was Benji that demanded his tutors help Ganji understand how to better speak English, it was Benji that protested the favoritism that left Ganji in the dust, and it was Benji that played ball with him every day and told him how amazing he thought Ganji was.
There was a reason that when the fire broke out, Ganji let himself be burned so that little Benjamin could escape unscathed. There was a reason that Ganji saved the child at all. There was a reason Ganji took the child in as his own, considered him his own, but gave him up to a relative anyway. All he wanted was to keep Benji safe.
But now… he wasn’t. And it was Ganji’s fault for letting him go.
This long story of his life ended in one sentence: ‘The manor owner has my child. And I have to win the game to get him back.’
The toy maker read the note, and her expressions let Ganji know exactly what she thought of it. Her shock, her sorrow, her horror… all was on display. Then she hugged him tight. All on her own. Despite that fear he knew she had.
‘You will win this game.’ She wrote. ‘I will make sure of it. You have my word.’
—
They’re exploring the manor when they hear it. A giggle. It’s childlike, and it makes them both seize up. The toy maker grabs his hand, and Ganji squeezes it comfortingly. He walks them slowly to where he heard the noise come from. His heart pounds with terror. It doesn’t sound like his little viscount, but what other child would be here? How many secrets did this manor keep?
There was another giggle, this time from behind them. They whip around and see something dash across the hall. They follow it, quickly, dashing—
And find only an axe propped up against the dead end.
The toy maker’s hand is shaking. Ganji squeezes her hand again, and starts to gently lead her back to the dining hall, to the safer areas of the manor. He doesn’t want to know what lurks this hall with a child’s voice. What’s more important is calming down his poor friend as she shakes from the idea that another kid might be trapped in this cursed place.
—
There’s one week left. Instructions get left about the main game, talking about hunters. Talking about so many more rules. Talking about survivability. But Annie is determined to get her and her companion out.
He invites her to his room this time, and she accepts. It’s been 3 weeks and she’s realized she’s starting to fall in love with this man. She’ll never tell him that, of course. It’s too sudden, and she’s too scared of the slim possibility that it might be a trick. But this love, even though she fears it, makes her more determined to get him out of here. Because she’s here for revenge, but he’s here for a child. And when they both get out, she’ll forfeit the prize, because nothing matters more to her than a child. Another day she’ll kill her bastard of a father and fiancé. Another day she’ll track them down and make them regret what they’ve done. For now she chooses her own path, and her path is to help someone as hurt and scarred as herself.
She comes to his room, and stays by the door. But she lets him close, and that’s progress. He presses his forehead to hers, and it’s comforting. It’s soft. It’s like a fairytale, to gaze into his brown eyes. She knows she’ll have to wake up soon, but she doesn’t want to. Like Cinderella, she wants to at least give him something to remember her by.
“My name is Annie.” She whispers. Rules be damned.
His eyes widen, stepping back. He knows exactly what she’s doing, what she’s risking, by saying this. He ghosts a calloused hand over her cheek and puts their foreheads together again, staring deep into her blue eyes.
“Ganji.” He says. Rules be damned indeed.
—
Victor smiles nervously as they wait for the game to start. Ganji grips Annie’s hand under the table. And the grey haired man stares at the two of them openly, plotting.