Someone lied.

Ese was a curvy temptress, filled with class. Rodgers respected her presence and company.

As Rodgers sat in a scalding lounge of fur and audible fire, he brandished Señora Ese with a gentle smile. She raised her cup to her face.

"You could stay here," a voice said from the cup.

Rodgers started, nearly spilling his drink on his lap.

"Pardon Señora?"

He figured he misheard her, but was interrupted by an utterance of weight into the lounge. Sir Charming was led by Reverend Paul, of the church.

"Dinner is ready," Sir Charming announced proudly.


…


A long mahogany table oversaw the six dinner goers. They all knew each other by name and shared a reputation amongst the public.

"The chef outdid himself," Sir Charming beamed. "I only hire the best."

"Of course sir," Harmony politely bowed his head.

"Brother, I need to tell you something–" Dr. Anabella started.

Sir Charming widened his eyes and choked on his chilled wine glass. Everyone stood up when his glass shattered and splattered red across the dark surface. Sir Charming, the host of the world, turned white and squeezed his throat. Before collapsing back down into his seat.

Four heads turned to Señora Ese.

"What in Heaven's name," Reverend Paul mumbled in his accent.

Colonel Rodgers moved to the dead heir's seat and touched his neck.

"Wait…" Chef Harmony whitened. Suddenly, the five old friends looked at each other individually. "...Does that mean…"

"...We had promised a suicide pact, not a homicidal masquerade," Señora Ese hissed.

"Oh so this was not your doing, harlot?" Harmony asked.

"Don't tell anyone…"

…Sir Charming had said. His last words to his sister, that echoed in her ears.

Dr. Anabella understood now; Sir Charming already knew.

He orchestrated this event. And still failed. Miserably.