No doubt resided in Amy's mind; she should make a proper sweep of the ground floor before any thorough investigation were initiated. Besides, this room seemed to have a much less creepy feeling about it. Stepping through the door frame however, she was disappointed to discover that this room seemed to be the dustiest of out all of them. A brief sigh escaped her lips before she forged onwards into the unknown.
What a dismall sight indeed. A pair of armchairs, hewn in suitably spruced up green and gold fabric, only barely seemed to brighten up the matted layers of grot they had accumilated in reclusivity. And to the left of them, a bar made of dark wood and as equally grazed as it was beautifully polished. No doubt there would be several drinks held below deck she noted.
Amy felt somewhat gratified to learn the occupants had enough vice to install this thing. But then she remembered that this once belonged to her family in distant times and it briefly made her consider her own unfortunate lot in life with Sonic. "Oh Sonic. Why can't I ever get him to go out with me?". Absent mindedly, she reached for a bottle of limoncello and set about pouring a glass.
These thoughts were put on pause when she noticed what appeared to be a piece of paper that had been left on one of the barstools. "Huh? But nobody's been here in ages-" she half muttered to herself. The note didn't look all that old at all.
Unfolding it in her gloved hands, it revealed itself to be a hand written message.
'To whom it may concern, as you discover this message
you will have known for a long time that we have gone.
Know this however, that it was not our choice to leave.
We are leaving for the sake of our future families.
Only after the time is right will they be safe to return.
We left many things in this house, some we would like to forget.
But it is the duty of our heir to reclaim what is theirs.
Make sure they find this note. The house will take care of the rest.
And if they are reading this, then welcome home. Randall Rosy~'
Amy felt a brief shiver come over her. Randall Rosy's name lived in infamy in her family. If he really had written this note, then whatever lay within these walls was far beyond the pail of normal men. Amy Rose also couldn't shake that it may be some sort of trap laid by scoundrels seeking a vast fortune in this den. It would be just her luck.
Looking down at her glass again, an unusual sense of anger raced through her. It was like all those years of being kidnapped and left in the dust had finally hit her where it hurt. Being continually rejected, ignored, humiliated, and now possibly swindled out of some inheritance drowned her fears in a new righteous fury. "I'm not gonna bend to other people's expectations of me any longer!"
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