I lived in a big mansion at the center of a vast green park surrounded by pine trees. On the inside, the mansion was decorated with ebony and mahogany furniture, the walls were covered with a dark red wallpaper and the shelves and tables were all full of small items and vases with flowers. The corridors were all lit by candles and candelabra that emitted a dim, welcoming light on the carpeted parquet floor and red walls, giving a gloomy but pleasant atmosphere to the mansion.

The building had three wings: one for the vast collection of books and tomes I collected over the course of hundreds of years, and the other three for three guests. The rooms all had very tall ceilings and long windows covered with deep red curtains.

The first guest was a middle-aged woman with jet-black long and curly hair, too weakened from her illness to leave her bed. She was a powerful witch that never went along with the other guests, but with me she was always nice "Because you deserve my respect", she always said. Her bedroom was covered floor to ceiling with paintings and spells she made with her own hands, with my image or name on some of them.

The second guest was a kind old wizard, too hungry for knowledge to stay out of my library. I brought food to him every morning, midday and evening to make sure he ate and bribed him with answers to his endless questions to make him go back to his chambers and sleep there during the nights.

The third guest was a short and stout man who came to me seeking the same knowledge I gave to the old wizard, saying that he deserved it because he was born from the wealthiest and noblest family. He occupied the third wing of my mansion without my permission and brought with him dozens of servants. I refused to give him access to my tomes, but he stubbornly stayed where he was, thinking that I will eventually see his worthiness and finally give him what he wanted.

Tired of his disrespect, I went to the witch and asked her for a vial of poison that, after knowing what I was going to use it for, she was happy to make from scratch just for me.

After lunch, one of the short noble's maids came to me all frightened, the poor soul, telling me that the man had seemingly choked on his own food and died with foam at his mouth. I had two of my own maids bring the body away from the mansion; the noble's servants, however, didn't leave with him, happy to live instead in the empty wing my mansion now had.