The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (17)

Serenity couldn’t hide her bewilderment.

The librarian of the manor lay motionless, draped over the desk, and opposite him sat the Duke, calmly sipping tea. The scene defied any expectation she had.

Her gaze flicked from Blake to the massive figure slumped at the desk. Looking closely, she realized the librarian wasn’t sitting at all. He was sprawled across the surface, his huge body making the desk look small.

…Was he dead?

Unease rippled through her. She had never witnessed the death of an anomaly before. If the librarian died, what would that mean for the library, for the manor itself?

Blake caught her pale expression and gave a small shrug.

“I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it’s not that, milady.”

“…What happened here?“

“Just had a cup of tea.”

The Duke crossed his legs with lazy composure and raised the teacup on the desk as if to prove it.

A teacup?

Only then did Serenity notice… the musty scent of paper in the chamber was tinged with something floral. She hadn’t realized until now.

The apprentice maid, still clutched in the bundle of cloth, fluttered her ragged face and spoke.

“Miss, miss, this is what I wanted to say! The scent of lily of the valley is everywhere!”

…Lily of the valley?

So that must be the tea.

“It’s an excellent sedative for the mind and body,” Blake said smoothly. “I brought it myself and offered it. The librarian loved it.”

Serenity blinked, then remembered. The small pouch he had carried before they entered the library.

“What did you bring earlier?”

“A sedative for the mind and body,” he had said.

Could that pouch have contained lily-of-the-valley tea leaves?

“I hurried to put that cantankerous librarian to sleep before he could trouble you,” Blake continued, smiling, “but it seems I needn’t have rushed. He’s been asleep for over an hour now.”

He checked his pocket watch as he spoke.

An hour ago… that was when she had been pulling books from the shelves to free the trapped apprentice. So Blake hadn’t been searching the library at all. He had come straight here.

“Was this your destination from the beginning?”

“I expected you to go searching for the little maid, milady,” he answered, as if it were obvious.

His crimson eyes drifted to the bundle in her arms, then back to her.

“As you can see, I was right.”

“…You sound confident.“

“My instincts are never wrong.”

Serenity wasn’t sure if it was confidence or arrogance, but she couldn’t deny his results.

“Now, all that’s left is to leave,” Blake said casually, as if they hadn’t been one misstep from death. “You didn’t forget anything, did you?”

Serenity could only stare blankly at him, still struggling to process how quickly the nightmare had shifted. Blake, unconcerned, rose and wandered to the desk. He picked up a brass lamp nearly twice the size of a normal one, glowing faintly with a disquieting red light instead of flame.

He turned it in his hand, then strode over and placed it in hers.

“Why that face? I told you I’d help.”

“…“

“You didn’t really think I’d be lost in this maze like you, did you?”

“…No, not exactly.“

She had wondered, but never truly believed it.

Instead, her thoughts clung to something else.

“How did you know about lily of the valley? More importantly, where did you even get those tea leaves? They don’t grow here.”

Blake’s lips curved faintly. “I told you, they’re good for the nerves. For an old man locked in a dark library, nothing works better.”

His answer was glib, almost mocking. No weight, no sincerity. He was dodging.

“Why, does that sound strange?” he asked, tilting his head.

Serenity stared without replying. From the beginning… in the garden, in the parlor, now… she could never quite tell how much he truly knew about the manor and its twisted rules.

‘Well, at least he’s useful… for now.’

Still, suspicion lingered. The librarian hadn’t drunk lily-of-the-valley tea in twenty years, according to the apprentice. How could Blake know? Was he, too, like them, an anomaly with centuries of memory? Or did he have some other source?

Her doubts sharpened…

Clatter.

The librarian’s massive frame shuddered.

Serenity flinched, curling up instinctively.

Blake glanced over with mild disinterest. “Ah. Looks like he’s waking.”

“…“

“The librarian is sensitive to noise. Especially voices. If we keep chatting, he’ll wake properly. Better to leave now, for your sake, and the author’s.”

He wasn’t wrong. Waking the librarian now would be suicide.

“But how do we get out?”

The thread was broken, the way behind sealed. They were at the deepest part of the library.

Blake didn’t let her finish. He pressed the glowing lamp into her hands.

“You’ll know the way now.”

“Huh?”

She blinked down at the lamp. Then… the library trembled. The shelves groaned, shifting like when she’d first dropped the books. The wall before them split apart, opening into a new corridor, dark, long, and leading in the opposite direction of their entry.

An exit.

Serenity knew it instinctively.

“Then let’s go,” Blake said lightly. He had already lifted the bundle of cloth from her arms and gestured toward the path.

—

The exit was astonishingly easy once they had the lamp. No dead ends, no maze. It felt almost laughable, as if the terror of wandering the library had been an illusion.

Soon, they emerged through the doors.

On the stairwell four floors down, the laundry maid was waiting, stamping her feet. The moment she saw the bundle of cloth… her apprentice’s tattered skin… she wailed, stitched seams leaking fluid.

“My goodness, the little one! The little one!”

She clutched the rags pitifully, corpse-colored scraps fluttering, her expression twisted with grief.

“Miss, dear miss! Thank you, thank you so much!”

She bowed so fervently her seams strained, murmured thanks over and over, then hurried away with the scraps in her arms. The apprentice waved weakly as she was carried off.

Even in pieces, the laundry maid would stitch her together again.

‘Her life is saved.’

Not trampled by the laundry maid, not devoured by the library. It was a miracle.

Serenity turned her gaze to the window.

When they had entered, the sky had been a pale midday blue. Now it was late afternoon, darkened as if a gray curtain had been drawn. The sun was sinking fast.

How long had they wandered that abyss?

Relief left her legs trembling.

‘I need to check the mansion’s rules the moment I return to my room.’

So much had happened. She had no idea what might have changed.

Her knees gave slightly, and Blake caught her arm with effortless ease.

“Let’s go back in and talk,” he murmured.

Serenity looked up at him.

…Talk about what more?