The Uninvited Guest Of The Haunted Mansion (6)

Lunch was like walking on thin ice.

Serenity had to stay hyper-aware to avoid dying from some meaningless mistake. She forced each bite down, terrified that leaving so much as a crumb might trigger another breakfast-like disaster. Her stomach twisted painfully.

And now,

“Relax.”

She sat across from Duke Blake Lambert in the sitting room of her chamber. She had hesitated to allow a stranger she barely knew into her room, but regrettably, she had no choice.

Safe Zone.

In this mansion, where even breathing could be dangerous, Serenity’s room was the only true refuge. Whenever the estate tried to claim her life, it always forced her out of here. In other words, at least within this space she wouldn’t die by choking on tea or being skewered by a stray spear.

…Of course, that rule didn’t apply if anomalous entities were involved.

Serenity toyed nervously with her teacup. Lunch had ended long ago, but her heart still pounded like a drum. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat.

Unlike her stiff posture, Blake sipped calmly at his tea.

“First, let me apologize again. I should have spoken to the person involved first; I acted hastily and made a mistake.”

His low, polished voice flowed smoothly, so polite that for a moment Serenity nearly forgot who he was. She almost answered him as though he were normal… before catching herself. Forcing a trembling smile, she replied softly:

“No, Your Grace. It was simply an offer far too generous for me.”

“So it’s not that you dislike it?”

She flinched.

The Duke laughed at her stiff reaction.

“Haha, I was joking. Your response is a bit much.”

Serenity’s stomach twisted. Did mice feel this way when cornered by a cat? Even riding a roller coaster without a safety bar wouldn’t feel as dreadful as this.

And he was, in all likelihood, toying with her. That was how anomalous entities usually treated her.

She steadied her voice.

“…Still, I appreciate your words, but I don’t quite understand why Your Grace chose me…“

“Miss Primdellrose.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Your understanding isn’t what matters, is it?”

Her breath caught.

She lifted her head slowly. For the first time, Blake’s crimson gaze locked fully with hers.

The gentle expression he’d worn while restraining the Count at lunch was gone. Only a thin, dry smile lingered, his tone flat and almost inhuman.

Did he have the ability to swap faces at will?

“Even though I ask for your consent, you know your will isn’t a factor to be considered.”

“…“

“So before refusing me, shouldn’t you at least be grateful for being spared the Count’s discipline?”

He tilted his head lazily. Those red eyes roamed over her like a predator sizing prey.

“The Count looked very angry.”

“So, I…”

“They say you’re frail.”

“…“

“I’ve heard you’ve gone twenty years without stepping outside properly. Raised so sheltered here, it’s no wonder your sense of situations is slow.”

The Duke smiled softly. But the warmth didn’t reach his eyes… it was no kindness, just a predator’s play.

“But Miss, be aware of your position. What do you think the only daughter of a Count is?”

Serenity forced her face still.

Of course. This damned story always insisted on being plausible at the worst times. Noble daughters were bargaining chips in marriage, whether they liked it or not.

So yes… on the surface, her engagement would appear perfectly natural.

But Serenity knew the truth. This “engagement” was no match made in society. It would be her death sentence. The moment she accepted the Duke, she would die painfully, in some horrific way she couldn’t even imagine.

They say even a tiger’s den can be survived if you keep your wits. But in this story, even that proverb was a luxury.

“You may not know, Miss, but I’m a decent match. Becoming a duchess from a Count’s daughter isn’t such a bad deal, don’t you think?”

Serenity only stared.

‘It’s stranger because, for an anomalous being, he’s making too much sense.’

All anomalous entities were dangerous… that was the unchanging premise.

They couldn’t be reasoned with. They weren’t human, no matter how long you spoke to them.

But this man was different. From the first moment in the garden, he had been like this… eerily reasonable, unsettlingly ordinary.

Yet she had seen him smile calmly while watching the Count’s grotesque hand twist and writhe.

That alone proved enough.

“Then how about this: I’ve heard you often trouble the Count because you want to see the world outside.”

His words snapped her from thought.

“If you were engaged to me, I’d help you leave the estate freely, and soon. The Count seems to trust me more than you might think.”

Her breath stilled.

“Perhaps our engagement could serve as a perfect pretext.”

Serenity’s eyes widened.

The Duke arched a brow, as though expecting her to understand. She drew a shallow, ragged breath.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her heart pounded.

‘He’ll let me leave the estate…’

For the first time, she replayed his words deliberately.

If she could just get beyond the gates… if only once… even if death struck her the moment she crossed, perhaps she could gather clues.

Of course, the risk was her life.

‘To have such a horrible option as my only choice…’

It was almost laughable that the thought felt like relief. The first thing her mind weighed was efficiency, not safety.

Perhaps noticing her troubled silence, the Duke tilted his head, watching her. Their eyes locked like opponents testing each other.

She didn’t know how long they sat like that.

Then, softly, he laughed.

“In the end, you will choose me.”

His tone left little doubt.

And he wasn’t wrong. If she refused, the Count would tear her apart… resetting her back ten months. From the start, there had been no real choice.

Still, it was strange that he bothered offering such sugar-coated words, knowing refusal was impossible.

Could this man truly help her?

Ten months of desperate struggle had produced nothing. Now, Serenity grasped at every scrap of possibility.

An engagement.

Could it become a means?

‘Death is inevitable anyway.’

The only decision left was when, how, and by whose hands.

‘If that’s the case… it’s worth considering.’

And then, beneath the calculations, something else stirred in her chest.

Hope.

*Maybe, this time, she could find a clue to escape this *story… even if it cost her a few more deaths.

Serenity lifted trembling fingers and sipped her tea. The liquid was long cold, tasteless.

—

That night.

Serenity sat at her desk. The candle burned low, shadows crawling across the wall. After staring at the flickering shape beneath the candlestick, she pulled a book from its hiding place.

Flipping to the <Servants> category, her eyes froze. She couldn’t believe what she saw.

At the end of entry 18… the gardener… new lines had appeared.

—

18. The gardener patrols the east and south grounds alternately once a month. His duty is pruning, trimming every branch within reach. The eyeless gardener may mistake you for a strange plant, so avoid those gardens on his working days whenever possible. However, the gardener does not work on rainy days.

—

‘The contents… have changed.’