Here’s the second half of the chapter, and of course, more shameless copy + pasting of game dialogue.
Finding herself alone once more, the unlucky girl began to explore her newest surroundings.
She gazed up at the sun-bleached skull of a long-dead steer, and it gazed back at her black-hole pity.
“Poor thing,” they said, looking at each other. “Poor, unfortunate thing. What a terrible fate.”
She studied the old piano where the Stoic Prince had played his haunting melody, but when she pressed her finger into one of the keys, the piano made no sound at all.
One by one, she pushed down on every key, but the piano only sighed.
She looked out into the conservatory where the flowers slept, but the door would not let her through.
She poked her head into the kitchen and even though her stomach was growling, she didn’t dare open any cabinets or drawers.
Finally, she crept into a small, dark office.
It was very sparsely furnished, containing two chairs, a desk, a bookshelf, and a strange book.
When the girl examined the book more closely, it began to giggle and sing:
The unlucky girl opened the book and signed her name.
Through the house the girl tip-toed and crept, listening for voices, but she was all alone.
She peeked into bathrooms and stared longingly into bedrooms where big, soft-looking beds sat empty.
But the unlucky girl didn’t dare rest.
She met no other living souls as she slipped through the halls, looking for some clue or indication that might help her escape her current predicament.
But there was no help, and there were no clues. Only endless nothing.
Eventually, at the end of a short hall, the girl made an unusual discovery.
It didn’t match any of the other doors in the house, and seemed to be surrounded by…
Well, surely she was mistaken.
Slowly, she approached the mysterious door.
The smears and stains made her uneasy.
The large slot near the middle of the door opened, but the room on the other side was dark, and the girl could see nothing.
A tattered sheet of paper on the door read:
THIS MONTH’S GIFT:
A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY
ONE PER PERSON
As the unlucky girl lingered by the door, contemplating her next move, the door spoke:
The unlucky girl still didn’t know what the Aristocrat Club was, but she had no intention of asking a strange talking door, either.
So she turned to leave, feeling more confused than ever.
What was she to do now?
With a tight feeling in her stomach, the unlucky girl began to look for a beautiful butterfly.