The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (19)

‘What was that?’

A long time had passed since Blake left, yet Serenity still sat frozen on the sofa, staring at nothing. She couldn’t make sense of what had just happened.

Her gaze dropped. The wrist and the spaces between her fingers, where his hand had touched, prickled as though burned. His skin had been cold, chilling, yet now, after he was gone, a faint heat lingered there.

‘No. Get a grip.’

Smack!* She slapped both cheeks sharply.*

This wasn’t the time to lose herself.

She rose quickly and went to the desk, pulling out the mansion’s ‘rules’ book she had hidden away.

Flipping to the <Main Building> category, she found it: a new rule written neatly into place.

17-3. The library’s librarian is a scholar who seeks truth and dislikes having his time disturbed. If nothing else occurs, he remains in the deepest part of the library; however, if you mishandle the books or cause a disturbance, he will reveal himself.

On XXXX XX, a visitor dropped a book, enraging him; he skinned the visitor and turned the skin into a book cover.
On XXXX XX, a visitor rearranged the order of the books; he reassembled the visitor’s bones in reverse order and then let them go.

17-4. If the library’s librarian becomes enraged due to your mistake, offer him his favorite tea before he lashes out. If the gift satisfies him, the librarian will listen to your story once. However, it is advisable to bring a conversation topic that can move or persuade him before teatime ends. Only a plentiful teatime can lull the librarian to sleep.

Serenity froze, reading the new entry again and again.

‘A conversation topic that makes for a plentiful teatime.’

So the tea alone hadn’t been enough. Had Blake really entertained the librarian with stories for the whole hour?

The image of him calmly rambling away at the terrifying scholar left her unsettled.

‘I should ask him what he talked about next time… maybe philosophy?’

She scribbled a note in the margin:

If you have the librarian’s lantern, the library’s disordered maze organizes itself into a path. Ask later about suitable conversation topics.

Just in case.

Avoiding the librarian entirely would be ideal, but in this cursed story, she could never predict what might happen.

She flipped again, this time to the <Servants> category. Beneath item 24, the laundry maid, there was now an additional note.

24-1. The laundry maid’s young assistant often gets lost. The assistant is easily frightened and bursts into tears, so treat them kindly. If you return the assistant safely, the laundry maid will certainly show gratitude.

Serenity sighed.

‘So she’s always been bad with directions.’ No wonder she kept confusing the third and fourth floors.

Just then—

Knock, knock.

Her shoulders stiffened.

‘At this hour? A cleaner?’

She held her breath. The knock came again, twice.

Knock, knock.

Then silence.

‘Four knocks total. Not a cleaner.’

Relief trickled down her spine. Whoever it was, it probably wasn’t here to kill her.

Then a voice called:

“Lovely miss, lovely miss! It’s me. Your loyal servant!”

The laundry maid.

“I’ve come to give you something! To give you something!”

Serenity’s gaze darted between the book in her hand and the door.

The laundry maid had never come at this hour. Could it be… gratitude?

After hesitating, she cautiously opened the door.

Sure enough, the laundry maid stood there, grinning broadly, tugging her stitched skin taut as if to show it off.

“…What brings you here? It’s past your duty hours.“

“Why, to thank you, of course! To thank you! Earlier I was flustered and couldn’t give proper thanks, couldn’t!”

“That was enough. Is the little one’s condition improving?”

“Of course! Of course! I was sewing her face back on when I came here! Once I finish the limbs, she’ll walk again, she will!”

“Ah…”

Serenity regretted asking.

The image of the maid stitching faces with a huge needle turned her stomach. Some grotesqueries, no matter how often she saw them, would never feel less revolting. The laundry maid was one of them.

As Serenity forced a strained smile, the maid said to wait. She slipped a hand into the stitched seams of her body, fumbled, then pulled something free.

A small cloth pouch, no wider than three fingers.

“What is this?”

“Something you might need one day! You might!”

She pressed it eagerly into Serenity’s hand. Puzzled, Serenity checked inside.

“A… sewing kit?”

Needles, colored threads, small scissors, pins… portable, but practical.

Could this be the “thanks” mentioned in the rules?

“I hope you use it well! Use it well!”

The maid beamed, bluish teeth flashing grotesquely between seams.

“…Thank you.“

“Not at all, not at all! Small and cute, just like you, miss! Just like you!”

Serenity doubted she’d ever need to mend anything herself - she was the Count’s only daughter - but the rules rarely gave useless gifts.

The maid, misreading Serenity’s silence as delight, chuckled and bobbed a curtsey.

“Then good night, miss! Good night!”

“Yes. Good night.”

The laundry maid, still murmuring thanks, trotted down the corridor. Serenity closed the door quietly, watching her vanish.

—

The next morning came like any other.

Neatly dressed and attended by Nia, Serenity went to breakfast… and stopped short.

“…You’re here, my daughter.“

“Good morning, My Lady.”

Her eyes widened.

The Duke sat at the table. As if he belonged.

‘Why is he here again?’

Hadn’t he left late last night? He had said he’d see her soon, but less than twelve hours later?

Unfortunately, this was no dream.

The Count, noting her expression, laughed heartily.

“It seems he’ll be coming often for business and the engagement. He’ll be staying in the annex for a while. Isn’t that good for you?”

“…Yes. I suppose so.“

Serenity forced a mechanical smile.

The Countess’s eyes were on her, sharp and merciless. One slip in expression management could mean punishment. Serenity crossed the hall with measured grace and sat.

Food was placed before her.

‘Hm?’

There was an extra plate at her setting… something the others didn’t have.