In the opulent bedroom of the Price Mansion, rays of sunlight pierced through the heavy curtains, casting a warm glow over its lavish furnishings. At the room’s heart, on an elegant four-poster bed, lay a young woman, her features eerily reminiscent of Gwendolyn Price’s in her youth. This uncanny resemblance stirred a whirlwind of emotions in Gwendolyn as she approached the bedside of the stranger named Evilyn.
As Gwendolyn drew near, Evilyn’s consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind. With a weak whisper, she uttered a single word, “Oma?” before slipping back into the depths of unconsciousness. The moment was fleeting, but it left Gwendolyn awash with wonder and questions.
Turning her attention away from Evilyn, Gwendolyn spoke, her voice laced with curiosity, “Remarkable. Did she have any personal items on her that might shed light on who she is?”
Wilson, the loyal butler, approached, offering a purse with a respectful nod. “Her clothes had to be disposed of, but we found this…” he said, presenting the item to Gwendolyn.
Without hesitation, Gwendolyn emptied the contents of the purse onto a nearby table. The scattered items—a wallet, a makeup kit, a peculiar bullet-shaped massager, several writing implements, a journal, and notably, a pendant with a shard of a strange green gem—spoke volumes of the mysterious Evilyn.
Gwendolyn’s gaze settled on the wallet, and she meticulously examined its contents: currency that seemed anachronistically out of place, credit cards, a driver’s license, various memberships, and a University ID, all hailing from the 21st Century.
“Fascinating!” she exclaimed, her intrigue deepening as she inspected the driver’s license. “Evilyn G. Price. A driver’s license? How peculiar.”
Her curiosity now piqued, Gwendolyn perused the passport. “Evilyn Gwendolyn Price,” she read aloud, her voice tinged with astonishment. “And it says here she was born in 1990. How is that even possible? It’s like something H.G. Wells would have imagined.”
Wilson, ever the composed servant, simply replied, “Indeed, ma’am.”
Gwendolyn’s determination was palpable as she commanded, “Tend to her needs, Wilson. I want her back to full health. I need to know who she is.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the chime of a bell, signaling the arrival of the mansion’s first guests. “I believe the first guests have arrived. I’ve arranged guest quarters and a shared room for the help, as per your instructions,” Wilson informed her.
“Let the porters know. I’ll be down shortly to greet our guests,” Gwendolyn instructed, her tone now one of resolve.
With one last contemplative glance at Evilyn, Gwendolyn left the room. The mystery of Evilyn’s presence in her home and the enigma of their shared features promised to unfold in ways Gwendolyn could scarcely imagine. As she moved to greet her guests, her mind was aflutter with the possibilities that lay ahead, each more intriguing than the last.
