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Chapter 66
“There’s a newly refurbished room in the west building. If you happen to touch anything inside, please—at least don’t break the porcelain…”
“Not only the porcelain—none of the other objects will be damaged either. I swear.”
“Calm down, Plier. There’s no need to swear an oath over that.”
“Ah. The kitchen is a place our cooks treasure dearly. They’re very strict about hygiene, so you’ll have to wash your hands before entering. Messes are inevitable, but still…”
“Oh, that’s only natural. Don’t worry. We won’t make a mess.”
“That’s right. We’ll be careful.”
“And in the east building, there’s a room filled with portraits. Everything else in there could be destroyed, but please—”
“Father.”
Celia cut off Baron Bronyu, who’d been listing worries non-stop since earlier.
“Nothing’s going to get broken.”
“R-right.”
“It’s just a search. We’re splitting into teams and taking a look around, that’s all.”
“Hmm.”
“The house will be fine.”
“I see…”
“So you don’t need to be so anxious.”
Baron Bronyu’s expression turned sheepish. Even he seemed embarrassed by himself.
Celia knew perfectly well why he spoke that way. She forced a small smile, suppressing the ache in her chest.
‘Because the old house used to get torn apart all the time.’
Usually by mercenaries hired by debt collectors. When they owed money to nobles, the nobles’ guards would come and wreck the place too. The house had stood intact less often than it had been ruined.
And every time, her father had cried out pointlessly:
“Please, at least spare that one thing… It belonged to my late wife. Don’t break it, I beg you.”
“What are you babbling about, you penniless fool!”
“No money? Then pay with your belongings!”
“What the hell, there’s nothing here worth taking!”
“Ugh, unlucky bastard. Smash it all.”
“Ahh—please!”
It hadn’t just happened once or twice. Every time their home was destroyed, her father had suffered terribly. And though Celia hadn’t shown it outwardly, she had been heartbroken too.
But she’d known that if she cried or got angry herself, her father would only be more devastated. So she endured it.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
Those memories were still vivid. So even now, the mere mention of “searching the house” made him imagine things breaking and shattering. Celia spoke softly but firmly:
“Father, nothing will break. Please trust us.”
“Of course I trust you.”
“What about the servants’ quarters? Are they empty too?”
“Yes. I gave everyone some travel money and told them to spend the night elsewhere.”
That was perfect—if something strange happened during the search, no rumors would spread.
“Good. Then there’s nothing in our way. Let’s split up.”
“Leave it to me.”
“Plier, you take the west building.”
“Alone…?”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?”
“No, that’s not it.”
Julien, who had been narrowing his eyes mischievously, leaned in and whispered:
“The young lord thought he’d be paired with you.”
“Ah, I see. But listen—splitting up will make things faster. Plier and I can each handle an area on our own.”
“That’s true, but…”
His tone faltered strangely. Celia patted Plier on the back.
“If a ghost shows up, just smack it with that fine body of yours.”
“……”
“Julien, Margaret—you two form a team. Check the kitchen and the servants’ quarters, okay?”
“Don’t worry. We’re not as strong as you or the young lord, but we can swing a weapon.”
Julien grinned, brandishing a borrowed frying pan. Margaret, beside him, held a feather duster with grim determination.
“Leave it to us!”
“Thanks. But don’t go breaking things—remember what I told Father.”
“Of course.”
With that, Celia headed toward the east building she’d been assigned. The mansion, shrouded in darkness, was eerily still.
* * *
“Nothing here so far.”
“Indeed.”
The kitchen and servants’ quarters were along the path to the west building, so the three others had gone together that far. While they were clustered together looking around, Julien whispered:
“It should be about time to hear something.”
“Did you truly hear it before?”
“Yes. We used to come here often.”
Margaret nodded and explained:
“During the morning or afternoon, nothing strange happened. But every evening, we’d hear eerie sounds. Some of the servants even claimed to see something…”
Julien added, as if to back her up:
“I heard it too. Not clearly, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was faint, like an echo. The voice—or whatever it was—didn’t sound like our kingdom’s language. More like… a foreign tongue.”
“But if it really was a foreign language, I would’ve understood,” Plier said.
“Oh, right. You didn’t know, did you? Margaret’s in the diplomatic studies division, and I’m in administration.”
“Of course I knew.”
“Really? I thought you only paid attention to Celia.”
There was a teasing edge in Julien’s tone. Plier smiled wryly and glanced back at him, but Julien just grinned and shrugged. Margaret whispered reproachfully:
“Julien.”
“I’m kidding. He’s a good man—I know that.”
“As he seems to be.”
“No, really—he’s fair to everyone. Checks up on how we’re doing and all. I was just joking. Anyway…”
Julien’s voice lowered.
“Come to think of it, a few servants recently said they wanted to quit. Probably because of these strange happenings. The Baron didn’t say so earlier—he didn’t want Celia to worry, I think.”
“Considerate of him.”
“He’s a kind man.”
Plier nodded slightly. Then—
“Wait.”
Margaret’s voice trembled. All three stopped at once.
“What is it?”
“Just now…”
A tense silence stretched for several seconds. The only sound was the flutter of a pale curtain in the corridor—a window had come loose, and wind was blowing in.
“You scared me.”
Julien chuckled, recovering quickly.
“You’re such a scaredy-cat, Maggie.”
“Call me Margaret properly.”
“Why? Maggie’s cute. Or is that nickname reserved for Lord Royhan? By the way, I still don’t approve of you two. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Plier—I’m not saying that because I have feelings for Dia—”
Blaaaargh!
A deafening horn blared through the corridor.
Margaret and Julien yelped and plastered themselves to Plier’s sides. He spoke awkwardly, keeping his voice low:
“…If you cling to me like that, I can’t draw my sword.”
“You heard that, right?!”
“Calm down, Julien.”
“You weren’t calm either!”
Still arguing, they stepped back a little so Plier could move freely.
Ahahaha!
Then, from behind them, came the laughter of young girls. Frozen, they slowly turned their heads. Just around the corner, they caught a glimpse of children in strange clothing darting away.
“What the—?”
Blaaaargh!
The horn sounded again. All three turned forward this time.
“Lord Plier!”
Something unlike anything they’d ever seen—a square, wheeled metal contraption—was speeding toward them down the hallway. Instinctively, Plier drew his sword.
“Both of you, run!”
It was clearly made of solid metal. If it hit him, even he might not escape unscathed. Untrained Margaret and Julien would be in real danger.
But instead of fleeing, they darted behind him again.
“You run too! Celia will scold us if you get hurt!”
“She’s right! Come on—”
Blaaaaargh!
While they bickered, the metal box charged at them. Plier squeezed his eyes shut and slashed.
Whoosh.
“……”
“…Huh?”
The box passed right through them like air and vanished into the darkness beyond. Faint laughter echoed again.
Ahahaha…
The curtains flapped wildly in the gust that followed.
The three of them exchanged stunned looks.
“Let’s go back to Celia.”
“Hurry.”
They turned and sprinted toward the east building.
* * *
“There’s nothing here.”
Celia had combed through the east building thoroughly, but found nothing—no strange energy, no trace of a curse, nothing concrete at all.
Tapping the ruby pendant she’d brought, she muttered,
“It’s better that nothing’s here, but…”
‘Then what exactly is the problem?’
There were too many witnesses for this to be imagination. Something had to be happening. Celia tilted her head, scanning the hall. Outside, darkness had completely swallowed the grounds. Moonlight faintly lit the corridor—
Whish.
“…!”
Something slipped past the corner up ahead. Celia’s head snapped toward it. The pendant at her waist—Periot—began to tremble violently.
Her lips parted in silent shock.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
The clothes were different, but the face—
It was Ilrod.
