The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (3)

Serenity was in a very serious state.

‘Blake Lambert, Duke? Never heard of him.’

Her brows knit on their own. She scoured her memory, then her rulebook, and came up empty. After a moment, dismay settled across her face.

‘…Right. A new variable.’

This horror story seemed to have a will of its own, periodically introducing “anomalous entities” Serenity had never seen.

She’d survived here ten months without dying, so she knew change would come eventually, but…

‘I didn’t expect it to be this sudden.’

Red alarms rang in her head.

People who appeared without warning always brought disaster. The “Headless Lady” from a few months ago was proof enough. She arrived claiming to be the Countess’s dear friend, her head posed on a silver platter… then spent her visit coveting Serenity’s neck. Serenity had only survived by clinging to her wits.

Strangest of all, while the severed head on the platter spoke, no one… except Serenity… found it odd.

‘What a crazy mansion.’

Serenity’s shoulders gave a slight shiver.

“Miss, are you cold?”

“No. More importantly, why would His Grace the Duke come all the way here?”

Nia’s oversized eyes went round.

“For now they say he’s coming to meet the Count… but actually, you see…”

Nia clicked her tongue and beckoned her closer with a conspiratorial waggle of fingers. Serenity, reluctant, leaned in anyway. Nia… who usually punctuated everything with rough little giggles… whispered theatrically.

“There’s a rumor they’re moving their whole base to the capital to support our Primdellrose family’s business!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Come now, no one in the capital can catch the Count in mining. And lately everyone knows the Lambert ducal house has taken an interest in minerals!”

Unfortunately, Serenity was precisely the one person who didn’t know.

Tease or not, her face had already gone pale.

‘So what exactly is coming this time…?’

At least the Headless Lady hadn’t been after Serenity specifically. Even so, Serenity nearly lost her head just for existing within reach… and now this one was rumored to arrive day after day?

This was really…

‘Is this haunted mansion actually trying to kill me this time?’

She couldn’t accept any other conclusion.

“A few weeks ago, a child cleaning the Count’s study saw the Lambert crest on a letter… *so they’ve been corresponding for months!”*

Nia laughed so hard her whole body trembled.

“I see… so that’s it.”

Serenity squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. Her sunken expression didn’t lift. Nia might chatter lightly, but her information had never been wrong.

An anticipated strike by an “anomalous entity,” and no intel to work with.

After a long silence, Serenity summed it up in a single thought.

‘A reset isn’t far off.’

Despair crept in.

Why, of all things, couldn’t time at least stand still in this place, when it was the breeding ground for every kind of story?

A full week passed as Serenity fretted. She didn’t just wallow… she scraped together information by every means left to her inside the mansion.

Blake Lambert, Duke. Twenty-four. Cadet branch of the royal family. A growing power from the frontier. He had moved his base to the capital exactly one month ago.

He had no evident connection to the Primdellrose family, whose fortune came from mining.

‘There was nothing special in the letter he sent the Count, either…’

Perhaps because most of what she learned passed through Nia, it all sounded unremarkable… more like a romance-fantasy lead than a figure from a ghost story.

‘But this is still a horror story.’

She’d met a lady who brought her own head on a tray and a doctor who “closed wounds” by sewing holes straight through people. She could not relax.

Maybe the Duke’s reason was business… but if it wasn’t, her unease would only grow.

Serenity could only pray this “anomalous entity” wouldn’t be the kind that forced an immediate reset upon meeting.

Then came the long-awaited breakfast.

“Serenity, Duke Lambert is scheduled to visit the Count’s residence today.”

“…Yes, Father. I heard it from the servants.“

The Count nodded slowly.

“I need not say much; I trust my daughter will comport herself well.”

“Yes.”

If possible, she didn’t want to meet him.

She would be as quiet as a mouse all day.

Serenity forced a smile while chewing the meat before her. As always, she couldn’t tell whether the food was going down her throat or up her nose. Since no glass-shard sherbet had appeared, she must have been doing passably.

‘…I wonder what he looks like.’

Honestly, avoiding him forever would be best… but in this mansion’s story, complete avoidance was nearly impossible even if she survived today.

She hoped, please, that he at least looked human.

The most important rule here was to act “natural.” Whether it was the Countess with clicking knives for teeth, a ball-jointed wooden maid, or the countless not-quite-human servants, Serenity had to accept them calmly. They must never feel alienated by her.

But even she would struggle to stay composed before someone with a pitch-black mouth dripping black fluid, or with empty holes where eyes should be.

What if the Duke looked more horrific than anything she’d seen? What if her face betrayed her?

‘I don’t know how I’ll die this time.’

Ten repetitions hadn’t made death any easier. Nightmares still replayed the moments of each end. On those nights, sleep never returned.

‘Please, God.’

Her fingers tightened around the knife.

*If only she’d taken up a religion before being swallowed by this *story… would faith steady her now? Or would it have spared her this fate in the first place?

After the uneasy meal, Serenity slipped out of the main building “for a walk” and headed to the east garden.

The east garden was the second-safest place after her room. A gardener came to prune every two months; as long as she avoided him, she kept her life.

He had no eyes or ears, and couldn’t tell plants from people. Thankfully, pruning had been done last month, so this month he should be in the south garden.

Inside the garden, tranquility greeted her. Along the still, mist-veiled pond, dark-red roses and evergreens with blackened branches grew in neat rows. She leaned against the sturdiest trunk and slid down to sit.

“I didn’t get a single moment’s sleep from the tension…”

She’d stayed up all night and forced down breakfast with her nerves sparking. The damp, silent garden felt more comforting than ever.

“For now, I’ll hide here until sunset.”

She couldn’t avoid him forever, but delay wouldn’t hurt. Today, she would spend as much time here as possible.

“Ha.”

She let out a low sigh and closed her eyes. As the strain slowly unwound, drowsiness crept in.

Was she dozing?

Rustle…

Rustle…

Rustle…

A thin whisper of falling leaves made her eyes open. Whether from the mist or her brief doze, her vision blurred. She blinked several times, focused… and froze.

“Uh…?”

It wasn’t leaves rustling. In the distance, a man-shaped silhouette with two black arms… longer than his body… was sawing and trimming branches. His arms were shriveled like dead wood, and where hands should be, huge cleavers swung.

‘Why is the gardener here?’

Confusion shot through her.

Her breath snagged; cold rushed across her skin. Her limbs locked… she couldn’t move a finger.

‘No.’

The gardener’s hearing was razor-sharp. If she ran now, his reach would catch her; if she stayed, she’d soon be part of his “pruning.”

Her heart sank.

Death always came like this for Serenity… an ambush, a calamity without warning… and swallowed her before she could dodge.

The familiar scent of death rose to her throat.

‘What should I do?’

As she sat frozen, he drew nearer. Holding her breath, she searched desperately for a spot beyond the sweep of those cleavers. Useless.

Then…

Whoosh.

The gardener’s hollow face turned toward her. He twisted his head a grotesque seventy-five degrees, hissed, and stretched out an arm.

Serenity squeezed her eyes shut.

Was this really her eleventh death?

So pitifully meaningless?

Her fingers clenched the hem of her skirt.

At that moment…

Instead of slicing pain, something warm wrapped around her. An almost suffocating rose-scent washed over her at the same time.

Serenity froze, still unable to look. A low voice fell from above her head.

“Oh my, surely you didn’t faint like this, did you?”

The voice was sweet to the point of syrupy. In other words, not exactly a monster’s.

“…“

She opened her eyes slowly.

First she saw a neat uniform: a dark jacket embroidered with silk and gold trim. She lifted her gaze…

“Hello, Miss Primdellrose.”

Between a tumble of jet-black hair, red eyes regarded her. The man who met her gaze softened sharp features into a smile.