human
Ferris:  "I shall see the master and his lady on their way.”
gpt
Ferris:  After all this, Ferris found he didn’t have the slightest idea what the maid was thinking. But when it came to giving funeral rites to his mother and father, he thought it was more appropriate that this servant do it, rather than a boy who felt nothing for the people who called themselves his parents. "I’ll let you handle it, then. And I’ll speak to Lady Crusch about you.” There was no chance the maid would go unpunished, but perhaps he could gain her some clemency. With that thought in mind, he hurried out of the bedroom.
human
Ferris:  As he rushed down the hallway, he heard something behind him.
gpt
Maid:  “—Good-bye, my dear Felix.”
human
Ferris:  “Huh?” Then there was the sound of a door closing and a click as it locked. Ferris stopped in his tracks; that click gave him a bad feeling. He had no good reason for it, but his intuition said the sound marked something from which there was no turning back. "Wait! Why’d you lock the door? What are you going to do? !” He went back and pounded desperately on the door, but there was no answer. Eventually, though, a response came from the far side that was more matter-of-fact than any reply could be.
gpt
Maid:  “—That’s hot!” The burning sensation made his hand jump off the doorknob. At the same moment, he caught another smell mingling with the stench of rot in the house: something burning. Fire. A fire had been set in the room he had just left, by the maid who had locked herself inside.
human
Ferris:  “What do you think you’re doing? !” But still there was no answer. Only immense heat told him what the maid intended. He was aghast at how quickly the fire spread. It dawned on him that the plan all along had been for the entire household to die together. He kicked the door viciously. "I hate this place! And everyone in it! All of it, all of it! I hate you—! !” He should never have come back. He wished he had never seen his father or his mother, or that maid. He dashed through the hallway, shoving aside undead warriors who stood dumbly, making for the stairs. The fire would take the whole house, and the remaining undead warriors would be cremated along with it. But so would Crusch, in the basement room. Ferris went down the stairs, heading for that vile room underground. He was on the first floor. Where should he go to get to the room? He was in his own house, but he didn’t know. He knew nothing. It was infuriating, so infuriating. "Why does this place keep tormenting me…!” He hated his legs for not being able to run any faster. He hated his memory for its failure to help him find the basement room. He hated his parents, who had never spared him a second thought.