I've never really written a story like this - what with murder and all—so go easy on me. There will be a lot of characters, though, but don't worry. It should be pretty easy to keep up, even with a few plot lines running simultaneously. With that said, please enjoy!

"Mr. Kirkland, there's something here for you."

Arthur Kirkland straightened his posture and allowed his assistant to enter the room. "Oh? What is it?"

"It's a letter, sir. For a free vacation!"

Renowned author Mr. Kirkland took a sip of his Earl Grey Tea. "Those things are fake, dear. I don't think I'd get a free vacation. Besides, I'm too busy to go."

The assistant frowned, tapping her French manicured nails on her boss' desk. "But, sir, I checked out this so-called resort—it's definitely real. Very exclusive, very expensive. But they've invited you. According to this letter, they've selected twenty-four random, hardworking people for a 'refreshment cycle.' All free, sir."

"And when, may I ask, is this?" Mr. Kirkland raised a rather large eyebrow questioningly.

"Oh, you'd have to pack your bags tonight, sir. This vacation begins tomorrow and is a week—here's the address. I do think it'd suit you to go!"

Arthur leaned back in his chair, shrugging. "We'll see..."

"You're sure this is the place?"

"When am I ever wrong?"

Two men stepped out of a BMW, handing their keys to a valet. The taller one was blond-haired, blue-eyed, and stern looking, the shorter one had even lighter hair and ruby-colored eyes that tended to scare the living daylights out of most adults. Both were exceedingly handsome.

"It looks a little fancy," the blond remarked, though he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed the shorter man. They had received a letter in the mail, summoning them to a weeklong free vacation. Though why in the world—some refreshment cycle? Please.

"Ludwig," the shorter man called, eyeing the sweeping mansion where everyone was to stay. "Quit daydreaming!"

Ludwig shook his head. "Yes, yes, coming, Gilbert."

The door was very tall, arching into the sky, and with great difficulty, Gilbert and Ludwig managed to pull it open. The thing was way heavier than it looked. And it looked pretty heavy.

A young, smiling receptionist with a mane of flowing black hair stood at the counter. "Hello! Part of the refreshment cycle, I assume?"

"Yes," Gilbert said. "Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt."

The receptionist smiled. "Oh, the German Brothers, no?"

"Sorry, ma'am—I hope you don't mind my asking, but what exactly is the refreshment cycle?" Ludwig asked. "He snatched the paper away before I could read it." Ludwig threw a pointed glance at his older brother. Gilbert discreetly stuck out his tongue.

"Not at all!" the receptionist exclaimed, laughing. "The owner of this mansion and estate is a very generous man. He selected twenty-four people—some famous, some not—who are all hardworking and intelligent. These people—you are one of them—will be staying here for a week in full comfort and relaxation. You all are known as the refreshment cycle."

Ludwig nodded, though the situation still seemed a bit odd to him. "I see. So, is—" Ludwig broke off when the door was slowly and laboriously pushed open, and another person, carrying a messenger bag and a small rolling suitcase, stepped into the entryway.

"Simply put," the receptionist said to Ludwig before addressing the newcomer, "this mansion is paradise for everyone, but watch your step. Oh, hello, ma'am! Can I help you?"

The newcomer didn't smile. "Arlovskaya," she said.

The receptionist grinned from ear to ear. "Miss Arlovskaya? You're incredible! I'm a fan."

A tiny smile graced Miss Arlovskaya's lips, who didn't appear older than twenty. "Yes, thank you very much."

"Who are you?" Gilbert asked. Ludwig frowned. "Be polite!"

Miss Arlovskaya turned to face Gilbert, her dark, piercing eyes glaring at him. "My name's Natalia Arlovskaya."

Gilbert nodded. "Right. Of course."

Natalia frowned. "Are you mocking me, sir?"

Gilbert snickered. "Should I know you, Miss Arlovskaya?"

"Oh, oh!" the receptionist seemed joyous. "Mr. Beilschmidt, you haven't heard of Miss Arlovskaya? She was one of the representatives for Belarus in the Winter Olympics."

"Ah, an Olympian, huh?" Gilbert said, though at least his voice was filled with admiration. "What sport?"

"Figure skating," Natalia replied sharply. "Now, ma'am, where is my room?"

"Of course, Miss Arlovskaya. This way..." Natalia and the receptionist disappeared down one of the many hallways branching off the entryway.

"This place is huge!" Gilbert exclaimed. The entry hallway alone was extremely extravagant—high ceilings, sparkling walls, glittering chandelier. Gilbert begin walking down a hallway, trying to find his assigned room, and dragged Ludwig along by the wrist. Ludwig followed, but felt somewhat unsettled—what had the receptionist meant, exactly? 'Watch your step?' Maybe there were a lot of stairs. Maybe...

"Ludwig! For God's sake, you've gotta learn how to stop zoning out every five seconds."

"I want to go home," Ludwig said quietly, though there was no one in earshot.

"Home?" Gilbert exclaimed. "But, Ludwig, I —come on, stay for a day. Let's see how it goes. Please. A day! We never get free vacations!"

"Alright, alright," Ludwig relented, holding up a hand. "A day. I'll see how it goes. But if something bad happens..."

"Yeah. Hey, look!" Gilbert pointed at a map of the mansion mounted on the wall. "Look, there's a café in here—c'mon, it'll be awesome. Let's go!"

When Ludwig and Gilbert finally found their way to the mansion's café, two people were sitting in there, sipping coffee but sitting on opposite sides of the room. A young man with dirty-blond hair and a cowlick sat in one corner, and Gilbert immediately ran over to him. The kid loudly introduced himself as Alfred Jones, and the two began chatting animatedly. Ludwig took a look at the other person.

A man with darker hair who appeared to be in his mid-twenties was the other conversational option. Ludwig walked over to the quieter man.

"Hello, my name's Ludwig Beilschmidt."

The man looked up from his newspaper, startled. "Oh. Oh, pleasure. I'm Roderich Edelstein. Want to sit?"

Ludwig pulled a chair out from the table. "Where'd you get the coffee? I don't see any workers in here."

Roderich snorted. "I made it myself. There's some stuff over there. This is a very bizarre place, Mr. Beilschmidt. The only workers here appear to be the valet I dropped my car off with and the receptionist in the entryway. There's no one else here, besides the other people in the refreshment cycle. Which you are in, yes?"

"Yes. How odd."

"That's your friend over there?" Roderich asked, motioning politely at Gilbert.

Ludwig sighed. "No, that's my brother."

"Hmm. How old is he?"

"Twenty-four," Ludwig replied, sighing again.

Roderich looked amused. "So am I. And you, Mr. Beilschmidt? May I ask your age?"

Ludwig paused awkwardly. "Err, I'm eighteen."

Roderich's eyes widened. "Surely not. You're very mature. You are eighteen, yet you chose to speak to a twenty-four year-old. Your brother is twenty-four, yet he chose to speak to an eighteen year-old. Strange."

"You've spoken to that other guy?"

"Alfred? Yes. Eighteen. Last year in high school. Very loud, very annoying! He gave me a headache." Roderich punctuated his comments by tapping his hand against the table in frustration. His coffee cup rattled precariously.

"Mr. Edelstein?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you speak German?"

Roderich smiled. "Have all my life, Mr. Beilschmidt. Now, why don't we meet some of these people in the refreshment cycle?"

Ludwig stood up, misgivings gone. "Yes, let's go."

The two waited in the entry hall with the receptionist and became acquainted with the next few people to walk through the door—a photographer named Mathias Køhler; a doctor named Ivan Braginsky; an author named Arthur Kirkland.

Though the sprawling estate was grand in every possible way, Ludwig felt further unsettled when there appeared to be no one else in the mansion besides him and the other twenty-three guests. The receptionist and the valet were gone.

But Ludwig ignored his thoughts when a voice came from the small speakers mounted in every room and announced it was time for dinner.