The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (23)

Serenity stepped beneath the pergola and closed her umbrella. Raindrops still pattered faintly against the dome above.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked.

“Not really,” Blake replied.

Yet the hem of his trousers was damp.

Serenity’s gaze flicked downward, then back up. “Why did you ask to meet out here instead of inside today?”

“Isn’t the weather nice?”

Blake lifted his chin toward the sky.

Serenity followed his gaze.

It was six in the evening, but the storm clouds hanging low and heavy made it feel closer to midnight. The wind carried a sharp chill, and the drizzle had thickened to a steady fall.

Hardly what anyone would call pleasant weather.

Her brow twitched, but she didn’t bother arguing the point.

Blake smiled faintly. “Soon it’ll be winter… and instead of rain, you’ll hear snow. No sound at all. It’s not a bad idea to enjoy the rain while it lasts.”

“The sound of rain… Do you like it?”

“When it rains,” he said lightly, “someone comes to mind.”

The casual question drew an answer she hadn’t expected.

“Usually when someone says that, it’s about their first love. Is the person who comes to mind Your Grace’s first love?”

“Oh? You hope so?”

Blake’s golden eyes, which had been fixed on the dark sky, turned toward her. Even under the gloom, they gleamed as if lit from within.

“I was speaking of the usual case,” she replied, unamused. “And that’s not a question that needs my opinion, is it?”

“Is that so.”

“…”

“I don’t know if it was a first love,” he continued with an easy smile, “but it was our first meeting.”

His tone was smooth, the kind of calm confidence that always made Serenity uneasy. She said nothing, and he shrugged lightly.

“And even if it were a first love, it’s not something one should confess in front of a prospective fiancée, is it?”

“Is that so?”

‘Wouldn’t it be irrelevant, since we’re not lovers?’

The thought rose to her lips, but she kept it there, biting it back.

Honestly, something about his words didn’t sit right.

Could an Anomalous being even feel love?

These were beings beyond ordinary human understanding… strange entities that became part of the manor’s legends themselves.

If they did feel something like love, Serenity suspected it would be nothing like what humans meant by it.

It was a question with no answer, so she pushed it aside.

She looked up absently. The clouds had thickened, swallowing what little light remained. What had started as a fine mist minutes ago had become a heavy downpour.

Now that she thought of it, it had been raining like this the day she first fell into this twisted legend.

January. Midwinter. It should have been sleet, not rain, yet she remembered it as a torrential storm.

She’d never liked the rain since. It was the day her nightmare began.

Unaware she had furrowed her brow, Serenity suddenly noticed Blake watching her. She quickly smoothed her expression.

‘Why does he always look at people like he’s studying them?’

It wasn’t a hostile stare, but something about it always made her blood run cold. And yet… despite the chill… she felt a strange heat bloom in her chest, just beneath her ribs.

Blake chuckled softly, amused by her attempt to avoid his gaze.

“The Count praised you for what you did with the head cook,” he said.

“Yes. It was the first time he’s ever praised me at the table. Usually, I only earn scoldings.”

“That’s a good sign… at least for you, milady.”

At least?

Something in his tone made her glance up instinctively.

Then…

Splutch… splutch…

A wet, heavy sound broke through the rain.

At first, the steady downpour masked it, but when she focused, it grew louder.

It wasn’t the sound of footsteps. It was heavier… like something soft and sodden being dragged and dropped, over and over, onto the ground.

It came from beyond the garden, somewhere down a narrow path.

Serenity froze.

Blake’s quiet laugh blended eerily with the rain.

“Shh.”

Her breath caught.

‘He knows something again…’

And in that instant, Serenity realized… this meeting hadn’t been arranged just to enjoy the rain.

She closed her mouth and waited, pulse thudding in her ears.

The noise drew nearer.

Splutch… splutch… splutch…

Finally, a figure emerged between the dripping bushes.

Low to the ground, nearly crawling.

It was the manor’s coachman… dressed head to toe in black.

He dragged himself through the mud, gripping his whip in one hand. From the waist down, there was nothing… no legs, just the wet drag of his torso sliding forward on his arms.

Serenity’s stomach turned. She blinked tightly, forcing herself not to recoil.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen him off the carriage,” she whispered.

Blake smiled faintly. “He’s fairly kind, among the Annex staff.”

‘Kind? After seeing that?’

Serenity almost gaped at the calmness in his voice but stopped herself. In this manor, judging anything by appearance was a fool’s game.

“Milady,” Blake said casually, “do you like getting wet in the rain?”

“Yes?”

“As you can see, I don’t have an umbrella.”

Serenity blinked and gave him a once-over. He was immaculate in his dark three-piece suit… but indeed, he carried no umbrella.

A stark contrast to their first meeting, when he had appeared between her and the gardener holding a black umbrella… on a day when it hadn’t even been raining.

‘He came all the way here like this?’

He must have been standing in the downpour for quite some time.

Before she could question it, he added, “I’m asking whether you intend to show kindness to a servant.”

Ah. Now she understood.

So the coachman was the real reason for this meeting.

And for her, “kindness” meant… handing over her umbrella.

“That’s not difficult,” she said.

“Then go.”

Before she could finish her sentence, Blake had already stepped out from under the pergola and into the rain.

Serenity sighed softly, opened her umbrella, and followed.

“You’re having a hard time,” the Duke said to the coachman, his voice mild.

The coachman lifted his head. His bloodshot eyes twisted grotesquely, folding inward like creased paper.

Serenity’s breath hitched… but Blake didn’t so much as flinch.

It was horrifying to see, yet she realized with a chill that it was meant to be a smile… his attempt at friendliness.

“Your lady said she was worried,” Blake continued lightly, “seeing someone walk without an umbrella in this storm. Isn’t that right, milady?”

“Ah… yes,” Serenity stammered.

Blake’s golden eyes flicked toward her expectantly.

“Is this where I’m supposed to hand it over?”

Still dazed, she held out the umbrella to the coachman.

The moment she did, cold rain crashed against her hair and soaked through her dress.

The coachman tilted his head, resting the umbrella on his shoulder. His blackened teeth bared in what might have been a grin… but it was far too distorted to be called pleasant.

Her chest tightened. She tried to return the smile, weakly.

It was not, by any measure, a pleasant sight.

Then Blake spoke again, almost cheerfully.

“Oh my, now that I think about it, there’s nowhere nearby to take shelter. It’d be rather embarrassing to meet the Annex servants like this. I was planning to go straight to the guest cottage… would you happen to know the quickest route?”

The coachman adjusted the umbrella and cocked his head before pointing with his whip toward a narrow, muddy side path leading away from the garden.

Serenity followed the direction of the point, her brows knitting.

“Was there such a path here?” she murmured.

She had explored the west garden several times across countless return-after-death loops. Never once had she seen a road leading behind it.

There was no way a shortcut to the guest cottage could exist that bypassed the Annex.

“Thank you,” Blake said. “Then I’ll go ahead.”

Before Serenity could ask another question, he reached for her hand.

His golden eyes gleamed sharply in the rain.

“Shall we go, milady?”

And as he led her down that narrow, hidden path, Serenity found herself staring at a sight that defied all belief.