You clap your hands, and the room falls silent, with your natural authority as a Black king establishing you as the leader. "Alright, everyone, focus. We'll divide into search teams for the room, while my mom and I handle matters in the lobby."
You and your mother make your way to the lobby.
“So, is it true that you’re a virgin?” she asks.
"Yeah... I guess," you reply with hesitation. "Amelia and I haven't even reached first base."
“What the fuck. That’s pathetic.” she answers.
Ever since she abandoned you as a kid, you've been yearning for your mother's approval. Her harsh words, combined with the murder of your friend, leave you feeling utterly defeated.
In the vacant lobby, you both settle at a table and request two cups of coffee. Your mother, with an air of detached preoccupation, busies herself with her cellphone. It seems that your revelation of being a virgin has caused any remaining shreds of respect she had for you to evaporate. The police doesn’t come to the hotel, and there's no sign that anyone here is aware of the murder that took place.
Fifteen minutes later, the rest of your team descends the stairs, and you drive back to your dilapidated base. Inside the apartment, you're greeted by weathered floors bearing scuffs and stains, well-worn furniture, and walls gradually shedding their wallpaper. This, unfortunately, is what you call home. Maybe you should get the Bad Luck Woman to clean up this place.
Everyone sits on the floor around the small coffee table, and you inspect the items recovered from Room 401. The first is a plain business card. The second one is a typewritten letter, without envelope, from a certain Miriam Atwright.
<span class="mu-r">Take a look at all the clues provided, as well as the history of the Carlyle expedition
>>5789946. Given that there’s a lot of information, we will vote tomorrow.</span>
