Novel & Cerita Disillusionment At Ten O'clock

Through it all, the clock on the wall tracked the passing hours, hope dwindling with each tick of the minute hand. By eleven-fifteen, I had resigned myself to disappointment. The roads must have been worse than anticipated, the journey too treacherous to complete in one day. Weary but determined to maintain appearances, I circulated among the tables, thanking staff members individually for their service, wishing them joy for the holiday. At eleven-thirty precisely, the great doors at the end of the hall swung open. The movement caught my attention mid-conversation, my words trailing off as I turned toward the sound.

I pushed him to the door and coldly said, “Stop saying my name. It disgusts me.” Then, I closed the door and collapsed on the floor. Finally, I stopped holding my tears back. That night, I gave Silas a call. “I’d like to give it a shot.” I was nervous. After all, I had been away from the workforce for many years. “Give me your address. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” I could sense him trying to suppress his laughter. I was plagued with insomnia the entire night. The next day, I was awakened by some voices outside my room.

My heart raced with anticipation, my mind replaying how I imagined the evening would go—his surprise, his smile, the laughter and warmth we’d share. But as the minutes turned into hours, my excitement began to wane. The clock struck ten, then eleven. Still no sign of him. My calls went unanswered, each one leaving me more frustrated than the last. By midnight, the candles were beginning to melt down to their bases, the soft flickering of the flames now feeling like a mocking reminder of how long I had been sitting there. With a deep sigh, I stood up and walked to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey that Dominic kept for special occasions. Well, tonight was supposed to be special, wa

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves as I sat down. And I waited. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling longer than the last. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now half past eight. I waited some more, the excitement slowly fading, replaced by a growing sense of unease. Where was he? By the time the clock struck nine, my hope had dwindled to nothing. The candles had burned low, the flames barely flickering now. The beautiful setting that had once seemed magical now felt cold and empty.

Days blurred into nights, a relentless cycle of deceit and subterfuge. Serena, consumed by her mission, oscillated between the guise of a dedicated intern and the clandestine pursuit of her father’s secrets. The weight of her betrayal pressed down on her, a constant, gnawing ache in her heart, yet she justified her actions as necessary, a means to an end, a path to justice. One evening, at precisely 8 pm, the doorbell chimed, signaling the arrival of Aaron. He had requested a meeting, a need to speak to Serena, a sense of urgency in his voice that she couldn't ignore.

She was temptation dressed up like innocence, and God help me, I fell for it long before I admitted it. I glanced at the clock: 10:47 p.m. My eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets. The numbers blurred, the rows and columns swimming until I had to lean back and press my palms to my face. I should’ve shut it down, should’ve gone home, and gotten a few hours of rest before the next grind started. But I knew myself too well.

Someone nearby said thoughtlessly, "You two were together for ten years. I thought you were each other's first love." Clara's smile faded slightly. She took Nathan's hand and said casually, "We were young then and broke up briefly after a fight. Everyone makes mistakes when they're young, right?" Nathan said nothing, his gaze sweeping past me to the server. "Put the damages on my tab and let her go." He stood there with a calm expression. Aside from that initial moment of recognition, he didn't spare me a single extra glance. It seemed he wanted to make it clear to Clara that I was nothing more than a mistake from his past.

All my effort would be in vain anyway, so why bother? I chuckled coldly and replied with a huff, "What? Trying to get me to act like Selena again? Did you want me to learn to be as ungrateful as her? Or learn how to be an impostor like she is? "She's just an orphan. What is there for me to mimic about her? Justin Bloomberg, did you really think that you'd still be able to fool everyone with your pathetic act?" When the guests saw that Justin was on Selena's side, they started rallying behind him.

I had no interest in getting tangled up with her, so I turned to leave. However, she called out to me. "You’ve been grinding away at that crummy company for years, and you couldn’t even afford a car to get here? Falling flat on your face outside... What a joke!" I turned to face her, meeting that all-too-familiar face, and replied firmly, "That’s my business. It has nothing to do with you." She clenched her jaw. "Fine. Then, stay in the mud for the rest of your life!" She clicked away on her high heels, the sound sharp and unforgiving. Then, halfway down the hall, she paused, glanced back at me with a smug, almost triumphant expression.

The tenth face had been scratched out completely, deliberately destroyed. Someone had taken a knife and carved across the photograph until the person's identity became impossible to see. Beneath the picture, a sentence had been written in red ink. FIND THE TENTH GUEST BEFORE THE NEXT RESET. A moment later, every light in the hallway outside suddenly went dark and somewhere in the hotel, the grandfather clock began striking twelve... even though it was only three in the afternoon.