"About damn time" I gruffed, extending my hands backwards so the butler would rid me of my coat.
For people who almost went broke, the Blakes maintained opulence. At least more than most. Not in grandeur or anything, because this was nothing compared to the Ramsey Estate or the Wellington Estate, it was mediocre in fact compared to my residence at Tall Springs.
No wonder it was called the Blake Mansion, not an estate because they lacked grounds. Which was really fucked up because the late owner had been into real estate.
But then again, the building from the gothic moss-grown façade, it must've been a family heritage. Something passed from one generation to the next.
Standing in the entrance hall that felt cramped compared to those I was used to, was a sweeping staircase with intricately carved balusters, polished to a high shine. They might not be big on opulence and grandeur, but they maintained hygiene.
