The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (33)

Wow, this is suspicious.

That was the first impression she had.

The enormous painting, taller than Serenity, looked suspicious from every angle. Its isolated position shoved into the corner and the way it was covered with a black cloth by itself meant there was nothing, ‘None’ (nothing / absence), that didn’t catch her eye.

Serenity’s instincts were telling her.

‘This is it.’

Without hesitation she walked over and lifted the cloth.

The painting revealed beneath was pitch black. At first she thought it was just a black canvas with nothing on it. But looking closely she could make out the silhouettes of densely packed trees. There were no leaves at all, so much so that the trees looked less like trees and more like iron stakes driven into the ground.

‘So the phrase ‘you’ll know when you see it’ was literal.’

So the painter’s explanation wasn’t being deliberately vague after all.

“This is a painting I’ve never seen before.”

“You startled me.”

A voice from behind made Serenity flinch and take a step back. Blake, whom she hadn’t noticed approaching, was bent over, peering at the painting over her shoulder.

Why does this man move without making a sound?

“When did you get here?”

He only shifted his gaze and smiled at Serenity.

“Just now.”

“…I guess this is the right one, then?“

“Of the paintings I checked, none were more fitting for the ‘black forest’ than this one. Miss, what do you think?”

“Me too.”

Serenity answered readily, then after a brief pause she asked Blake a question.

“…But you said it’s a painting you’ve never seen before?“

“Hmm?”

“Because you spoke as if you’d seen the painter’s other works.”

The painter who was said to have lived in this manor for two hundred years.

Blake, who had been staring at Serenity nearby, smiled faintly without answering. His expression said, Why ask something like that? Serenity almost let out a hollow laugh but restrained herself.

‘So he’s not even trying to hide it anymore.’

The problem was that despite how obvious he was being, she couldn’t figure out the exact context. Maybe he was someone who had been coming and going in the manor without Serenity knowing, or perhaps someone who knew more about this haunted world than anyone else.

Serenity gave Blake a look full of doubt and questions, then quickly looked away. The more she dwelled on Anomalous being-related thoughts, the worse it was for her mental health.

Instead, she reached out to carry the painting.

Squelch*.*

“…Huh?“

For a moment Serenity couldn’t accept what was happening. She had definitely grabbed the edge of the canvas to move it, yet instead of holding the canvas her hand was sucked right into the black scene.

Still dazed, Serenity let out a startled “eek!” and hurriedly withdrew her hand. Fortunately it didn’t look like her hand had been cut off or disappeared.

She stared blankly, groped with her hand, and looked back at Blake.

“D-did you just see that?”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“What is this… G- Duke!”

Serenity’s face went as white as paper. Blake had thrust his hand into the painting. While Serenity called to him in alarm, Blake stirred his hand a few times inside and then nonchalantly pulled it back.

“It’s a manifestation phenomenon.”

“Mani… what?”

“It’s when the creator’s spirit imbues the painting and forms a space as if it’s real. It’s not common, but the painter must have treasured this work.”

He explained with an unaffected expression.

“Is something like that even possible?”

“You ask interesting questions, Miss.”

Serenity asked reflexively and then sighed to herself. Discussing common sense in this haunted world was likely as pointless as anything.

“So… how do we take this?”

“Well, it would be best to flip the painting or cover it with something for now. The manifestation only happens within the painted area, so if it’s covered the effect disappears. Was there anything covering this painting? Like a cloth?”

“Ah, if it’s that, here’s the cloth.”

As Serenity bent down to pick up the cloth that had fallen to the floor,

clunk*.*

The painting, which had brushed her skirt, suddenly lost its balance. By the time she looked up it was too late; the canvas tipped forward in an instant. Without any time to dodge, a shadow fell over Serenity’s head.

“Uh…?”

“Serenity, watch out…!”

With Blake’s urgent voice pulling her arm, her vision went black.

“Miss.”

“…“

“Miss, try to come to your senses.”

Her consciousness was hazy, as if submerged under water. Her body was jostled. When she forced up her heavy eyelids, a dark silhouette was wavering nearby.

“Huff.”

“Don’t be startled, it’s me.”

“…Duke?“

“Yes.”

Only then did her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. Blake was bent over, checking Serenity’s complexion.

“Are you conscious? Can you get up?”

“Yes, I’m fine…”

Serenity trailed off and slowly sat up. But before she could fully raise her torso she froze at the unsettling feeling enveloping her whole body. Her gaze dropped downward, and another question arose.

‘What on earth is this?’

She had clearly fallen inside the storage room, but the palm she used to support herself felt damp soil. Now that she thought about it, it was too dark in every direction. Without the faint moonlight overhead, it would have been hard to make out any objects.

…Wait, moonlight?

“Why is there a moon?”

“We’re inside the painting.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Memory… ah, no way.”

Serenity’s vacant eyes widened. The painting that had fallen over her at the moment her consciousness cut out flashed into her mind. She involuntarily took a shallow breath.

‘Did we actually go inside the painting?’

A beat later her surroundings came into focus. Dense black trees surrounded her on all sides. It was a dark, strange forest with no sign of life, exactly reproducing the painting they’d seen in the storage room.

‘This is insane.’

One disaster after another.

She was overwhelmed with a sense of ruin.

Although it was her first time being trapped inside a painting, she had a rough idea about this kind of phenomenon.

An anomalous phenomenon found in ghost stories.

*In short, these were places where the rules of the already-twisted haunted world were *
twisted again.

Like a library that was much larger inside than it appeared from the outside, or a shortcut that only opened with a servant’s permission, or a hidden basement that couldn’t be seen at a glance.

Among them, this was a dimensionally separated type of anomaly, the most complex and troublesome kind. All incidents that occur in such anomalies take on more extreme forms than outside, and the anomalous beings encountered here were doubly dangerous.
In other words….

‘We’re screwed.’

Serenity, clutching her head, suddenly looked at Blake.

But the answer she got was despairing.

“Even if you look at it that way there’s no use. Unfortunately, this was something I didn’t anticipate either.”

“You don’t mean you don’t know how to escape… Do you?”

“I told you it’s a painting I’ve never seen before.”

“My goodness.”

Serenity’s face turned pale.

Being suddenly dragged into the painting was shocking enough, but for the only man she could rely on to not know how to escape, there was no worse situation.

For a while Serenity couldn’t speak and hung her head low.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think the painting would fall like that.”

“It can’t be helped. Life is just a series of unexpected accidents, isn’t it?”

“All because of me.”

“You were so boldly commanding me earlier, and now you’re apologizing inappropriately. I said I’d help. There must be a way.”

Blake himself seemed unperturbed. To be precise, he seemed accustomed to this sort of situation. He dusted himself off, stood up, and offered his hand to Serenity, who still hadn’t fully come to.

“Let’s walk a bit, sitting around won’t solve anything. It’s better to try to find an exit.”

“…I suppose so.“

The forest seemed endless. The land was perfectly flat with no mountains in sight, and the darkness made it impossible to tell direction. The only hope was the faint crescent moon hanging overhead.

Serenity suddenly remembered a story she’d once heard: that if you get lost in one of America’s hundreds of thousands of kilometers of cornfields, you can’t get out before you become a corpse.

‘It can only be worse, not better.’

As long as there’s an entrance there must be an exit somewhere, but the problem was how long it would take to find it. With bad luck you might never find it until you die.
She was about to step forward, led by Blake’s hand, to go anywhere at all.

Rustle.

“Ugh.”

Her foot brushed against thick vines densely woven at her feet.