The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (30)

After that, things went fairly smoothly.

The boy set up a new canvas to replace the torn one, braided Serenity’s hair into a brush, and finished the painting swiftly… without shedding a single tear.

And when Serenity finally looked at the completed work…

‘I really don’t want to admit it, but it’s good… really good…’

If she hadn’t known the paint was mixed with the boy’s own flesh, she might have admired it sincerely. But now, she couldn’t see it as anything but grotesque.

The young painter, oblivious to her inner turmoil, blinked up at her with bright, flushed excitement.

“It’s the masterpiece of my life! There will never be a more beautiful painting than this! Ah, can you feel it? The vivid soul of the lady captured inside!”

Yes. How fortunate.

Serenity had no strength left to answer… she only managed a mechanical smile.

‘I feel ten years older…’

She sighed quietly, thinking it might have been better to just surrender some blood to the ill-tempered painter in the cottage after all.

Her legs had gone weak. She dropped into a chair, exhausted, trying to steady her breathing. From somewhere distant came the sound of footsteps… slow, deliberate, echoing across the marble.

At first, she thought it might be Nia coming to fetch her. But the rhythm was different… heavier, slower, and sharper. The distinct click of heels against stone.

“Mistress!”

Oh no.

The Countess swept into the Great Hall, her crimson gown dragging behind her like spilled wine. Serenity, who had been limp moments before, straightened at once, her back stiff.

The Countess stopped near the entrance and scanned the room with wide, searching eyes. Her gaze, sharp and predatory, soon found Serenity.

Her pale irises narrowed, pupils contracting, as she studied Serenity from head to toe.

‘This time I’ll suffocate.’

The stare was so intense it felt like her heart shrank in half. Serenity held her breath, forcing herself to stay still.

After what felt like an eternity, the Countess finally turned away, apparently satisfied, and began crossing the hall in slow, measured steps.

‘Why did she suddenly come here?’

The Countess was like a bomb… exploding without warning.

With other Anomalous beings, Serenity could at least predict what might trigger them and step carefully around it. But the Countess was different. Her anger had no pattern.

She valued dignity and had strict standards for her children… but those standards changed daily. One day she would forgive a dropped spoon. The next, she might try to kill Serenity over a stray hair. Once, she’d even snarled that Serenity’s breathing irritated her and had to be “disciplined,” only stopping when the Count himself intervened.

Cold sweat slid down Serenity’s back.

The Countess stopped beside the somber painter and inspected the finished piece.

“Very well painted. Excellent.”

“This is all thanks to the lady. Because she helped…”

“Oh my, our Serenity?”

The Countess’s eyes returned to Serenity. She forced her lips into a smile. The corners trembled.

“She gave me the answer. The lady is truly a wise person.”

“Ho.”

The Countess’s mouth curved upward, almost to the point of tearing. Her sharp teeth ground together with an audible scrape. It was horrifying that such a predatory grin was, in fact, her most pleased expression.

“I was worried our Serenity might make another mistake this time, but thank goodness. You’ve grown noticeably more mature.”

“I’ve never met anyone as beautiful and kind as the lady,” the boy added, blushing.

‘Yes. Keep going. Praise her more.’

The same painter who had terrified her moments ago now felt like a savior. With every word of flattery that fell from his lips, the Countess’s expression softened further.

Finally, she looked between Serenity and the painting with genuine satisfaction.

“This painting should be hung in the center of the gallery. I’ll have the butler prepare a space for it.”

“Mother, that’s not necessary… “

“I was planning to reorganize the gallery anyway. Hanging the lovely image of my only daughter in the center wouldn’t be a bad idea, would it?”

The Countess’s large eyes locked firmly onto Serenity’s.

It was the kind of look that warned: no further protest.

“…Yes,” Serenity replied weakly.

Was it possible to feel your blood drying up minute by minute like this?

Only after that meek answer did the Countess turn away. Her expression shifted, as though she’d just remembered something.

“I’ve noticed for some time now… you seem to have developed quite a knack for managing the servants.”

“You flatter me,” Serenity said automatically.

“Flattery aside, managing the servants efficiently and maintaining the household properly are the virtues of a true lady of the house. My daughter, who was once so clumsy, seems at last to be finding her place. As a mother, I am proud.”

What is this unease?

The words sounded like praise, but Serenity’s stomach twisted.

Whenever an Anomalous being suddenly grew kind, it always meant something unpleasant was coming next.

“So, about that… would you go to the cottage this week and tell the painter to prepare to leave the manor?”

Why is it that dreadful premonitions are never wrong?

Back in her room, Serenity pulled a book from deep within her drawer. As expected, another unseen entry had been added to the mansion’s “rules.”

She flipped through the pages until she found the ones related to the painter and the cottage.

37. At the clearing behind the manor, along the forest path, stands a small cottage where the painter resides. It looks like an ordinary cottage, but if the low fence surrounding it is wet, do not touch it. The paints the painter uses are not made from ordinary materials, especially when used to repair the exterior fence.

37-1. The manor’s painter has a difficult temperament. Take care not to disturb or offend him while he works. Doing so may cause him to ruin his paintings. If his work is ruined, he may demand paint as compensation. The painter especially favors a uniquely hued red, and the ingredient for that paint is human blood.

Then something strange happened.

The words began to blur and fade, leaving only part of the entry behind.

37-1. The manor’s painter has a difficult temperament.

And then, before her eyes, new text appeared… freshly written across the page.

37-1. The manor’s painter has a difficult temperament. When it comes time for him to leave the manor, persuade him gently. Praise his work, tell him it is an “opportunity to make his name known beyond the manor.” If he wishes to take all his paintings with him, it is best to let him do so.

Serenity frowned as she watched the words etch themselves into the page.

‘When the situation changes… do the mansion’s rules change too?’

They were supposed to be added one by one… not rewritten.

This was the first time anything like this had happened.

As she stared at the newly written lines in confusion, an uneasy thought crept in.

‘But this hasn’t happened yet. I haven’t even gone to the cottage.’

The rules had always appeared after she’d experienced an event… never before. So why now?

‘What on earth…’

Just then…

Tap, tap.

A faint sound hit the window. Something small and hard struck the glass, then slid down.

Serenity crossed the room and threw the window open.

Below, Duke Blake stood smiling up at her.

“Why do you open the window so late?” he asked, his grin wide and mischievous.

“I was beginning to think that if you didn’t open it before the night ended, I’d have to court you till morning.”