The morning sun had just begun to filter through the dense foliage, casting dappled shadows on the cabin’s floor. Mark busied himself with cleaning, discarding bits of useless debris, and meticulously sorting through the relics of his father’s past life. An air of anticipation hung around him as he probed deeper into the enigma that was Richard.
As Mark moved about the cabin, he noticed a particular floorboard under the table that seemed slightly uneven. It stood out against the rest, appearing a tad more worn out. Intrigued, he knelt down to examine it, finding that it was a little loose. The discovery sparked a glimmer of hope in him, his heart pounding in sync with the suspense-filled silence.
Taking a deep breath, Mark leveraged his weight against the floorboard. It gave way with a soft creak, revealing a small compartment beneath. It was a secret hideaway, a hidden nook he was sure no one else knew about.
He remembered the old key he had found in the manor, the one that seemed to fit nowhere. With a sense of trepidation, he fetched the key from his pocket. It slid perfectly into the small, rusted lock nestled within the compartment. His heart pounded in his chest, the echo seeming to fill the small cabin. As he turned the key, the lock gave way with a satisfying click.