The Greek group was sailing smoothly, and Francis had extended his invitation to his country house weeks earlier—a getaway that quickly became one of my most cherished vacations, despite the subtle hints of irregularity.

There were whispered conversations in the dead of night, clandestine excursions outside, and the mysterious clinking of dishes being swapped under the cover of darkness. It irked me endlessly to suspect that they were engaged in some clandestine activity, something kept deliberately hidden from me. Not anything nefarious, mind you, just... something.

But my suspicions were soon to be confirmed, and the truth I uncovered was far beyond what I could have anticipated.

So here I sit, perched uncomfortably on a worn-out diner booth, awaiting the arrival of one of them. The anticipation coils tightly in my gut, mingling with a potent cocktail of dread and determination.

I am on the precipice of discovery, about to confront the enigmatic core of our group. And as a tap lands lightly on my shoulder, heralding their arrival, I brace myself for the revelations that are sure to follow.