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Chapter 2
The Dream That Revealed the Lottery Numbers (2)
It wasn’t the kind of casual kiss exchanged between longtime lovers.
This was a passionate kiss, tangled up in emotions that couldn’t be explained by relief or overwhelming joy alone. It was as though fervent affection and deep-seated hatred had become hopelessly intertwined.
Wait, hold on!
I struggled, but it wasn’t easy to break free from the excited young man’s grip.
“See? What did I tell you?”
Even through my confusion, the older man’s disillusioned voice drifted over from where he stood at a distance.
“I knew she was exaggerating. Good heavens, she nearly fooled even me! What a remarkable performance.”
His tone was dripping with sarcasm.
Honestly, this was completely unacceptable.
“Let go!”
At last, I gathered all my strength and managed to shove him away for a moment.
He staggered back slightly, apparently assuming I was throwing a little tantrum because I felt neglected. The corners of his mouth curled upward as though he found me adorable, and he immediately tried to lunge at me again.
So I swung my hand with all my might and slapped him squarely across the cheek.
SMACK!
A sound far louder and more horrible than I had expected rang through the room, bringing the entire commotion to an abrupt halt.
After a brief silence, the older man was the first to shout, his voice full of disbelief.
“Miss Walton!”
The young man who had been showering me with kisses was so startled that he couldn’t even speak. He sprang to his feet, cupped both hands over his cheek, and stumbled backward.
Even so, he seemed unable to believe that I had actually hit him. His wide eyes darted frantically between my hand and my face.
Anyone watching would have thought he was the victim and I was the aggressor.
“And now you’re actually striking Mr. Cassel? How could you behave in such a disgraceful manner……?”
“He’s the one behaving disgracefully! Who told him he could kiss me whenever he pleased? You shameless bastard!”
I seized the opportunity to yell at him.
“I’m not the person you people think I am! I’m not Miss Walton! If you touch me like that one more time—”
“Ellie, all right. I understand, so please calm……”
“Don’t come near me, you bastard! I’m calling the police! Where’s my phone?”
I clenched my fists and sprang to my feet, even climbing onto the bed. That part was all well and good, but there wasn’t a cell phone in sight—or anything resembling an electronic device that I could use to call for help.
On the bedside table sat an antique oil lamp with a glass chimney, a handcrafted leather handbag whose owner I couldn’t identify, and a small open bottle of ink. They looked like props arranged for a photograph.
“……What kind of people are you, really? What have you done to me?”
“This won’t do. Perhaps we should fetch someone who can restrain her……”
The older man backed farther away from the bed with an expression of utter exasperation. He then shook his head at the young man, making it clear that he thought I was either having a mental breakdown or still putting on an act.
“No, Mr. Adams. There’s no need to call anyone. And there’s no need to restrain Ellie by force.”
Despite the vivid red handprint on one cheek, the young man named Ben spoke as though he were trying to protect me.
“Ellie is simply startled, that’s all. Aren’t you, Ellie? You’ll only feel worse later if you let other people see you in such a disheveled state.”
Mr. Adams clicked his tongue in disbelief, but he didn’t argue.
Although they were clearly mistaking me for someone else, Ben’s manner and tone simply didn’t feel like those of a vicious kidnapper. If he were one, surely he wouldn’t have backed off so obediently after I slapped him.
“Ellie, just calm down for a moment, okay? Don’t get angry…… What if you get so worked up that you faint again?”
“Don’t touch me. And don’t come near me.”
“All right. So please sit down first. Just sit quietly and rest, and I’ll have someone bring you some brandy.”
He continued trying to persuade me with an earnest, almost innocent expression.
“Let’s calm down a little and talk again afterward. If you still want to go home then, I’ll arrange a carriage for you…… Oh, right. You said you needed money, didn’t you? I’ll lend you some, too. So please try to control that temper of yours for now. There you go……”
I couldn’t completely let my guard down, but I slowly lowered myself back onto the bed.
Honestly, if things turned into a physical fight, I had no confidence that I could beat both men and escape. For now, I needed to pretend to cooperate with them and figure out what on earth was happening here……
“Good. Just rest there for a little while, all right? I’ll be back soon.”
The moment I appeared to have calmed down, the young man hurriedly grabbed Mr. Adams and practically fled from the room.
Click. The door shut, followed immediately by the sound of a lock being turned from the outside.
……Huh? Wait a minute.
It had never even occurred to me that the lock might be on the outside of the door.
Am I…… locked in here?
I was so dumbfounded that I stood there in a daze for a moment. Then I cautiously got up and tried the doorknob.
Just as I expected, the door wouldn’t budge.
“Hey, open this damn door right……”
I was about to shout and pound on it when I noticed the little piece of paper I was still clutching tightly in my fist.
The paper on which I had written the numbers from my dream.
At the same time, the voice that had warned me never to forget them came rushing back to me, as vivid as ever.
—Don’t trust anyone! Go somewhere safe right away and hide. Understand?
A shiver ran from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Wasn’t that a lottery dream at all? Was it a prophetic dream?
I had heard of dreams that warned people in advance about terrible things that were going to happen. I had never believed in them before, though.
Kidnapping, confinement, murder…… Scenes from all the horrifying true-crime documentaries I had ever watched flashed through my mind.
The warning in my dream had been right. I was in terrible danger.
I had woken up in an unfamiliar place. Two men I had never met were acting as though they knew me and trying to persuade me to do what they wanted.
How was I supposed to know what kind of people they were? How could I possibly trust that they wouldn’t hurt me?
Screaming wildly wouldn’t improve the situation. As the older man had suggested, they might actually resort to restraining me by force next time.
First, stay calm. Take a deep breath.
I looked around the room again. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but the leather of the handbag on the bedside table was almost exactly the same deep purple as the dress I was wearing.
I carefully picked up the handbag, loosened its drawstring, and peered inside.
“You have got to be kidding me……!”
I nearly shouted, forgetting the promise I had just made to myself to remain calm. But honestly, anyone would have reacted the same way.
The very first thing I saw when I opened the handbag was a handgun.
It was old-fashioned, but it was a real revolver that fired live ammunition.
Why is there a gun in here? Is this place really some kind of criminal hideout?
I pressed a hand against my chest, where my heart was pounding like mad, and struggled desperately to regain my composure.
My mind was barely functioning from fear, but I forced myself to examine the gun carefully. As I did, details that I hadn’t noticed at first gradually came into focus.
This…… is ridiculously old-fashioned, even for an antique.
There were five chambers, each loaded with a round lead bullet and gunpowder.
There were no metal cartridge casings anywhere. This wasn’t merely an old piece of junk; it was a rare relic of a firearm that had disappeared from use long ago.
And yet, there wasn’t even a trace of age on it. It was so polished that it looked as though it had just been made.
Almost like a replica lovingly recreated by some eccentric collector who was obsessed with the romance of antique firearms……
Wait! Are you a Baby Dragoon?
There was no mistaking it!
The silver barrel had no loading lever. The wooden grip was so small that even a woman’s little finger could barely wrap around it…… And there was that squared-off rear section of the trigger guard.
Oh my goodness! I can’t believe I’m seeing a Baby Dragoon in real life!
The Baby Dragoon was an early type of revolver designed to be small enough to carry concealed.
Despite its compact size, it was a legendary firearm that had helped define its era with its remarkable accuracy, capable of hitting a human torso from twenty meters away.
It was also a hidden item in a famous shooting game set in the American Old West, where it appeared as one of the most powerful weapons available in the early stages. It offered respectable accuracy and reliable stopping power.
And I was the first top-ranked player to clear the early scenarios and even achieve the Hell-difficulty accomplishment using nothing but this one gun!
I couldn’t believe I was finally holding the real thing in my hands instead of a replica mounted on a toy joystick!
……Wait, what am I doing? This is no time to be admiring it!
For a moment, my excitement at seeing a familiar object had nearly made me forget reality.
It might look like an antique made for collectors, but it was still a handgun loaded with live ammunition. Finding something like this inside a handbag was an obvious sign that I was in danger.
—If anyone so much as lays a finger on you, blow their fucking heads off right then and there. Understand?
The voice from my dream, warning me of danger, echoed through my mind once more.
Dangerous. This place is dangerous.
That instinct kept urging me to act.
I shoved the handgun into the handbag along with the folded piece of paper and fastened it securely. Then I hugged the bag carefully against my chest as though it were a ticking time bomb and approached the door.
I pressed my ear against the keyhole. Faint voices drifted toward me from somewhere farther down the corridor.
“……Is it really possible that Ellie might not remember anything at all? For example, even the fact that she’s engaged to me?”
“If she really suffered a head injury, it’s possible. But to be honest, I don’t believe a single word Miss Walton said. Didn’t she clearly recognize your face just a moment ago?”
They had said they were going to fetch brandy, but apparently they were still standing in the corridor discussing me.
“But the way she looked at me…… Even the way she spoke was so different from how she normally acts.”
“Now, now. Don’t overcomplicate things. Just do as I say. I’ll give you a sedative that works well. Take Miss Walton home, administer the medicine regularly, and keep an eye on her. Until you’re certain she’s recovered her senses, absolutely do not let her leave the house.”
“And what if she doesn’t recover, even after we wait?”
“In that case…… Well, you could continue looking after her yourself, Mr. Cassel. If there’s no one else who can take responsibility for her, we might have to consider a mental institution.”
So the voice in my dream had been right after all.
I have to get out of here. Right now.
The thought of going to the home of a man I had never met was terrifying enough. But a mental institution?
Still pressing my ear against the keyhole, I glanced toward the window. Sunlight was streaming through the curtains, suggesting it was the middle of the day.
“……How much of the sedative should I give her each day?”
A pair of shoes lay scattered beneath the bed.
“Have her take two pills every morning as soon as she wakes up. If she seems to be having another mental episode, force her to take two more. But don’t let her take more than six pills a day. That amount could be enough to prevent a woman with a weak heart from ever waking up again……”
I didn’t need to hear anything more.
I have to move.
I rushed to the bed and put on the shoes first. As expected, they fit my feet perfectly.
I quietly approached the window and drew back the curtains. Although the room was on the second floor, a gently sloping terrace roof extended directly beneath the window.
I unfastened the latch and pushed upward with all my strength.
To my surprise, the window opened easily.
“……”
A rush of fresh outdoor air blew into the room.
From somewhere outside, I could hear what sounded like the noise of a busy street. Indistinct chatter, distant shouts, and the laughter of women.
There was hope.
They locked the door, but apparently never considered that I might escape through the window. Why? Because I’m a woman?
I glanced down at the long, heavy dress trailing around my feet.
I had no change of clothes. One wrong step, and I could easily lose my footing, tumble down, and die.
But was I supposed to sit around and wait here forever?
I couldn’t afford to stand still. In my experience, problems never magically solved themselves just because I hesitated.
I began gathering up the hem of my dress.
It wasn’t something I could accomplish with just one or two tugs. Beneath the thick silk, layer after stubborn layer of fabric turned out to be petticoats designed to give the dress its shape.
After a brief struggle, I finally managed to remove the thick petticoat and toss it onto the floor.
……What a relief.
I had no idea when the men might come barging back into the room.
I shot one last glare at the door, gathered the remaining folds of my dress tightly along with the handbag containing the revolver, and boldly swung one leg out through the window.
