The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (12)

Serenity’s body went rigid.

‘It’s starting again.’

She knew this signal all too well.

Whenever she got too absorbed in searching for an escape, or whenever her conclusions veered close to the truth, the story would always retaliate, dragging her out of safety.

A frantic knock at the door.

A strange phenomenon appearing out of nowhere.

Or, like now, an urgent scream tearing through the air.

Every time she responded to these calls, death was waiting.

She remembered her third death with bitter clarity.

That time, startled by sudden knocking, she’d opened the door, only to find the cleaner standing there, jaw unhinged and gaping down to its chest, a black void where its mouth should be.

Before Serenity could even scream, the creature croaked, “I’ll clean the room properly,” and began shoving everything inside into that gaping maw. Furniture, curtains, and finally, her.

When she lost consciousness in the crushing pain and woke up again after death, resetting the loop, she had discovered a new entry in the mansion’s rules.

*Main Building Rules, No. 21: *If you hear exactly eight knocks from the cleaner after sunset, never step outside. Send it away.

‘Even now, the sound of knocking makes my skin crawl.’

But ignoring the signals wasn’t an option either. The manor wouldn’t let her. Even if she stayed still, new dangers would come, closing in until she was forced to act.

It was nothing less than a death sentence.

And yet…

Her gaze shifted to the man before her. This strange Anomalous being, who had already saved her life twice, seemed oblivious to what those acts meant.

‘Will it work this time too?’

He was part of the mansion’s rules somehow. A servant of them, a variable.

Serenity weighed the odds, then rose from her seat.

“…It seems something’s happened outside. Would you come with me?“

It was worth testing.

—

When Serenity and Blake stepped outside, they found a laundry maid sitting on the side path behind the Main Building.

Serenity’s stomach twisted.

The maid’s skin was a bluish corpse-color, sewn together with crude, stitch-like scars, as if she’d been patched together from scraps of fabric. Every sob made her stitched shoulders tremble, and thick fluid - neither tears nor sap - oozed from the gaps in her skin.

‘This one’s bad. Really bad.’

Serenity had gone out of her way to avoid the laundry maid until now, so revolting was her appearance. But disgust wasn’t the only reason her heart pounded.

‘What’s the story this time? What’s going to happen?’

Each event like this had always dragged her into danger. Sometimes she thought instant death would have been kinder.

Next to her, Blake wore the same relaxed expression as ever, as though none of this concerned him. Serenity, tense and wary, took half a step back, but he simply approached the weeping maid with a gentle smile.

“What’s the matter?”

The maid lifted her head. Where her eyes should have been, sodden cloth was stuffed into her sockets.

“Oh, my God! Please, kill me! Kill me now!”

Her voice was so loud and jagged it felt like shards of glass in Serenity’s ears. She flinched despite herself, hating both the sound and the sight.

“It’s all my fault! All my fault!”

The maid’s cries grew wilder as she writhed toward them. Serenity winced, fearing her eardrums might burst.

“…So, what happened?“ Blake asked calmly.

“Oh, milady! Beautiful milady!”

The maid’s stitched flesh swelled grotesquely as more fluid poured out.

“A little child is missing! A little child is missing!”

Serenity’s breath caught.

A child?

Her mind scrambled, then landed on the young trainee maid who was often seen trailing after the laundry maid. She wasn’t here.

‘So this time it’s… a search.’

Not an instant death trap, at least. But searching the manor for a missing child was far from fortunate.

Still, she had to ask. She hated herself for it, but she had to.

Serenity drew in a shallow breath.

“Where did she go?”

“She went to the manor’s 4th floor! The 4th floor! Oh, my God, what am I to do?”

The maid wailed, cloth-filled eye sockets twisting. She had been told to take laundry to the 3rd floor but instead had gone up, into the one place Serenity never set foot.

Serenity’s gaze lifted toward the 4th floor. A hollow laugh escaped her.

‘I knew it.’

The 4th floor.

She’d explored nearly every corner of the Main Building, except that one. And for good reason.

Because once you entered, you died. Always.

The 2nd floor was her own domain. The 3rd belonged to the Count and his wife. And the 4th was the library, a labyrinth that stretched endlessly inside. Once you went in, you couldn’t leave unless you solved its cruel escape condition.

And the books inside… weren’t ordinary books.

The maid wailed louder, her cloth “eyes” bulging grotesquely.

“What should I do? What am I to do?”

Serenity’s stomach clenched. Even in fiction, this kind of grotesque servant begging her mistress would have been absurd. But in this cursed story, everything existed only to drive her to the edge.

“Please forgive me, milady! Forgive me! Save me, milady, save me!”

Finally, the maid collapsed, pressing her corpse-colored face into the dirt as she groveled.

If Serenity refused, she knew what would happen… the maid would drag her into a wash-tub, stomp her body until it broke apart, and she’d loop back to ten months ago.

Serenity swallowed hard and turned to Blake.

“…You said earlier you’d help me, didn’t you?“

The Duke’s crimson eyes lingered on her, then he smiled.

“I did.”

“Then come with me. The 4th floor library is too vast… I can’t find the child alone.”

If she was to escape, she had to complete every rule, and the 4th floor was no exception. Alone, she might die over and over before finding the way. But with him, this unpredictable being, she had a chance.

“You said once that you hated the idea of engagement, but you’re being quite forward now,” Blake teased.

“Because Your Grace promised me,” Serenity replied, steady and unflinching.

Her eyes locked with his.

“So please… help me. You will, won’t you?”

The red in his gaze softened.

“Gladly.”

Relief washed over her, and she let out a quiet breath.

If they succeeded, new rules would be revealed, whether tied to the laundry maid or to the library itself.

Serenity leaned toward the maid.

“You hear that? I’ll find her for you.”

“Really, milady? Truly?”

Her skin crawled. She knew the truth: if she failed, this creature would kill her.

But at her words, the laundry maid’s tears vanished as if they’d never been. She straightened, her patched skin rippling as she smirked grotesquely.

Serenity turned her face away, unwilling to watch that corpse-colored flesh swell and twitch.