Grandfather Robert's Will
Chapter 24's

Rachel lifted the candle up high and checked the floor as far as the lighting range she had. He knew these mice liked the dark, damp cellar, and he didn't like it at all, he was so scared and disgusted by the rats.

When nothing crossed the floor, two chests passed two meters wide and led to the fuse box. There is a static bicycle that Robert's grandfather used to maintain body fitness. There are also cabinets as high as the tile distance to the ceiling containing old bottles. His grandfather was once amazed by a bottle cutter for ten million rupiah. And there, Rachel looked with a sigh of relief, there was a fuse box she was looking for. He placed the candle on a pile of boxes, and opened the big iron door and looked into it. There is absolutely no fuse there.

“What the fuck is this?” frangipani. Then as he moved to take a closer look, his feet felt something creeping across the concrete floor. Shaken in shock, muted yelling and desire to run. Holding his breath he waited in the darkness.

When he was able to control himself to relax more, he lifted the candle again and bowed low. Dozens of fuses scattered at his feet. He picked it up and then grabbed it. The cellar may have its own quota of mice but the rats are not dexterous enough to be able to empty the fuse box.

Rachel felt a little trepidation, which she ignored as she began to gather those fuses. Deception, he told himself. Just a silly trick. Annoying, but not as bad as what happened in his study. This is not a clever trick at all, he thought. Returning the fuse to its place is as easy as removing it from the box.

Worked quickly, and tried not to look back at Rachel putting the fuses back into place. Anyone who had managed to enter the dungeon and play this game was already wasting his time.

When he finished, he walked up to the stairs. But his sigh turned to panic. The door he had left open was now tightly shut. For a while he could only be transfixed, refusing to believe that reality.

The handle of the door is turned, pressed, pushed and turned again. Then he forgot everything except the fear of being locked up in a dark place. Rachel banged on the door, yelled, begged, and then threw herself down sluggishly on the top step. No one can hear it. Nyoman and Jesica are in another part of the house.

For five minutes he gave in to fear and self-pity. He was alone, utterly alone, confined in a dark cellar that no one would hear until morning. The air is cold and getting colder. By morning, the candles had burned to the ground, so he had no more light. That's the worst, the worst, no light.

Light, he thought, and called himself an idiot while wiping his tears. Didn't he just fix the lights? Rushing up, Rachel scowled the button at the end of the top staircase. Nothing happened. Muffling his screams, he lifted the candle. The contact stop on the wall near the stairs is empty.

Now he'll find a way out first. He shivered, but he told himself it was because of his anger. There comes a time to lie to yourself to come up with something useful. He held the rest of the candle aloft, forcing himself to climb down the stairs again as he stood trembling in fear on top seemed to feel so much easier.

The cellar was twice the size of his apartment, open and warehouse-like without one of the many decorative ornaments Grandpa Robert tended to like. The place was dark and somewhat damp with a concrete floor as well as a resounding stone wall. Now Rachel will not think of spiders or small creatures that rushed to the corner. Slow down, trying to stay calm, he was looking for a way out,

There was no door, but he stood a few feet underground. Like in a grave. Such thoughts did not help calm his tense nerves, so he tried to think of something else. He had only been to the cellar a few times, so he did not really understand the ins and outs. Now he had to think about it again and pretend his palms were not soaked by sweat.

Passed through a stack of boxes at shoulder level, then shouted loudly when it hit the cobwebs. More disgusted than afraid, the nest of the net was swept away. He is not the kind of person who likes to make himself look silly, even though no one is present to watch it. One must pay for this, his mind while thinking hard to find a way out.

Then he looked at the window, about a meter and a half above his head and small in size. Although the window was smaller in size than the usual window built over the door, Rachel almost fainted from relief. After putting the candles on a shelf, he began to pile up the boxes. His muscles ached and his back seemed to protest, but he continued to transport and arrange the boxes on the wall. The first sharp flakes that scratched his skin made him swear.

After the third splinter, he stopped counting. Snuffling, with sweat running down his skin, he leaned against his artificial staircase. Now all he has to do is ride it. With a candle in his hand, he used the other hand to help himself climb up. The candle's flame is wobbling here and there.

The boxes squeaked and screamed a little. An idea formed in his mind that if he fell, he could lay low on cold concrete with broken bones until the next morning. He pushed his body up and completely refused to think.

When he reached the window, he found a small latch that was rusty and difficult to open. Swearing and praying, he balanced the candle on the box below and used both hands. He tried to open the latch, but then got stuck again.

If only he had thought of picking up the equipment before climbing up. He considered going back down and finding a piece of equipment, then made the mistake of looking back. The pile of boxes looked even more rickety from above very creepy.