The mansion was cloaked in silence, the only sound the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. The clock was old, antique, its wooden body polished to a deep, warm shine, and its pendulum swung back and forth with a steady, rhythmic motion that seemed to mark the passage of time itself. 

The sound was gentle, almost hypnotic, a constant reminder that the night was slowly slipping away. The fairy lights from the wedding had long been extinguished, their golden glow replaced by the dim, amber light of the sconces on the walls. The servants had retired to their quarters, their footsteps long since faded, their voices silenced. The mansion felt vast and empty, a cavern of loneliness that swallowed every sound.