Cellar 13 の小説・ストーリー

IRIS’S POV The wine cellar wasn’t just a room at this point, it was a silent, underground cathedral of glass, dust, and freezing condensation. It was a stark, bone-chilling contrast to the sweltering, perfume-choked heat of the masquerade ballroom three floors above.

Sebastian demanded, his voice low and tight. I scanned the console data, recognizing the layout from Cora’s description. "The access to Thorne is disguised. It's not a service elevator. It's a pressurized electronic door disguised as a wine cellar access hatch in the villa's formal dining room. The code is still active on the console: $9-4-1-3$." "Team One, proceed to the dining room. Access code $9-4-1-3$," Sebastian immediately relayed.

If one truly does not care for their life , they can still live it for others if they have someone worth living for , for most at least that is true . Jayden grabs Jace's wrist and drags him towards the cellar below his study room . " Dad please . " Jace says a little too loudly . " If someone tries to interrupt us because of you , they'll end up dead . Just listen to your father . " He growls and opens the cellar door , throwing him inside . He turns on the small bulb above , making his surroundings visible . There were 2 chaisr in the centre and 2 tables beside it , having 2 IV sets on top of them . From the back of the cellar , emerged a little girl who seemed to be around 10-12 years old

Kael, who was already holding the key to the door in his hand, fit the key into the lock and turned it. He pushed the door and stepped inside first, going on to switch the light in the cellar, the warm light filling the whole place, before Morvienne followed, closing the door behind her quietly. The wine cellar was longer than she had expected, low shelves ran along both walls, three rows high, and each shelf was divided into neat cubbies that held bottles on their sides. The bottles lay neck-out in orderly lines. Some had dark, dust-mottled glass, others clearer and labelled in gold and black with handwritten years and names that spoke of age and care.

The S‍ubterranean‌ Vault ‎The air in the w‌ine cellar was thick with t‍he scent of damp ear⁠th, ancient dust, and‍ th⁠e sharp t⁠ang of spilled cordit​e. The maze of brick arches and tow​ering racks of vintage bordeaux had been conver⁠ted i​nto a sub‌te‍rranea​n battlefiel‍d.‌

he added as he outstretched a hand for her. Eleonna hummed in confusion as she looked at Audella. She shook hands with him as a gratitude and smiled. "Thank you," The male ushered for her to follow him and she did. He took her to the mini counter beside the ring. Now that she got a better look of the pictures that was pinned there, she noticed it was all just random symbols and places. Mace opened one of the cellar's cabinet and clicked a certain bottles which surprisingly was a password for a hidden room. Eleonna was shocked to see that the whole wine cellar moved aside and made a way for them. She looked at it in awe which made Mace chuckle.

Inside was a handwritten note. "The answers lie beneath what was left behind. Find the past, and you’ll understand the present. – M." Isabelle’s heart pounded. “He’s leading us to something.” Carla’s brow furrowed. “Beneath what was left behind… What does that mean?” Isabelle swallowed hard. “The cellar.” The Forgotten Room Descending the stone steps to the cellar, the air grew colder. Isabelle’s memories of this place were hazy—she had only been down here once as a child. Her father had forbidden it.

I was in a damp, pitch-black cellar, hunched in a corner with my injured leg behind me. The walls were slimy and wet, and the moisture soaked through my blouse. The door swung open, and a burst of light stung my eyes. I lifted my hand to block it. I heard footsteps and quickly shrank back, hiding deeper in the shadows. "Mr. Carver sent me to get you, Mrs. Carver." I looked up to see who it was. It was the bodyguard Henry had hired years ago.

“I’d be happy to see her step into that role,” I said. I knew Zeke was only mentioning this so I’d have the okay from him. He was still wary of discussing Lola around me. “Where is she?” I said. “Uh, in the cellar,” said Andy. “Stock check on all them old Beaujolais we got down there.” “You want me to get her?” said Zeke. “No,” I said, “I’ll say hi.” I stepped down into the cellar. It was a warm day in New York, in the low seventies, and inside the cellar, it felt cool. I wandered among the racks of wine, my feet sounding quietly on the flagstones.

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