The Cider House Rules の小説・ストーリー

Rule C The Housemates are filmed 24/7, and they must have their microphones on at all times. The viewers must be able to hear all conversations at all times and are not allowed to whisper or cover their mouths while speaking to fellow Housemates. They are also not allowed to reveal the location of the cameras and microphones. Rule D The General Manager has complete control over everything going on on the island, and She never discusses anything that goes on outside of the house with anyone inside. Rule E

“Miss, I got recruited last month. So I'm still new here,” “One month. That's strange. You've only lived here a month and have no idea what the house rules are. First and foremost, that mug in which you offered the coffee. It's an antique from the hallway's utensil cabinet; no one ever uses the utensils in that cabinet. Furthermore, you are wearing perfume; the house regulations clearly stipulate that no servant should wear perfume when reporting to work since the smell of perfume irritates my aunt. Finally, you're dressed in a groundskeeper's attire, and groundskeepers don't offer coffee; only maids do. So I'm going to question you, “Who are you?” once more. Cecily said as she stood up.

Billy rang the doorbell. The ring sounded loud inside the massive white house, even behind the heavy, pastel pink painted door. Billy had slipped in unobserved - the estate was named Gormwell, and it was surrounded by a low drystone wall - for the sleepy, bucolic fields and villages of Big Cidering were hardly ever troubled by interlopers of any kind. Clearly, Billy had not understood what was expected of him when Bumford had asked him to ‘case the joint’.

“It feels… quiet in here without pretending to be silent.” “That’s the idea,” he says. “House rules, abbreviated: no fighting under this roof unless it’s play or training; no shifting inside unless someone’s hurt or in labor; kitchen obeys June; no mindlink at the table; porch is for big feelings; if the light is on in the library after midnight, someone brings tea and doesn’t ask questions.” “Porch is for big feelings,” I repeat, smiling. “Efficient.” “It helps,” he says. “We’re loud people. Rules make it safer to be loud.”

“My parents would definitely get over it. I'll convince them they're joking. I'd rather get suspended for days than leave this school.” I sighed and he stopped at his car, opening the front door. “What are you doing?” “Me? Well, We. We are going to your house.” “Isn't that a violation of the Rules? I'm not your real girlfriend so you're not supposed to give me a lift. And to my house? What for?” He raked his hands through his hair. “Would you chill? What's wrong with giving you a ride? As long as there's no sexual tension which is the main Rule. And I want to take you home so you can give me your document. Don't you understand?”

“Third rule, no fighting, no killing, no maiming, no pranks on people, no breaking up relationships, no illegal business, no stealing, no smoking, and most importantly, for every good deal, get your money in cash or kind.” “Really? I said that last rule.” I shook my head at Nora. “You give the rules, but interpretation is within my rights, and you have no right to meddle in that.” Nora argued, her stance firm. “Suit yourself.” "Nain." “No skipping breakfast, lunch, and dinner and no acting or modeling if I am not in the top ten in class.” “Nika,” "Talking." “Okay, we all have that settled. Why don't we go take a look at your classes? I had barely just finished speaking when a heavy scent inf

And it stayed between them longer than expected. A few days later, Clyde came home with something tucked carefully under his arm. A drawing. Three stick figures—uneven, imperfect, clearly done with urgency rather than precision. But unmistakable. Katya recognized herself immediately. Ethan beside her. And Clyde in the center. Above it, in large uneven letters, he had written: NO INTERRUPTIONS HOUSE Katya stared at it for a long moment. Then turned to him. “What is this?” Clyde straightened proudly. “It’s the house rule.”

And underneath, a question: Do you want the man who makes the rules or the one who breaks them? I stared at it for hours. Then I did something I swore I wouldn’t. I wrote a rule of my own. RULE 9: You’ll both come to my room tonight. But only one of you will be allowed to touch me. The other must watch. And I slid it under both their doors. Now I wait. Naked. Plugged. Blindfolded. One will come first. The other will arrive later. But only one of them will win. “In a house with too many secrets, the final rule is the one that breaks you.”