Chapter 5
After much hesitation, I finally hugged the black snake doll and stepped out of the room.
Aside from acting as a “shield,” the doll was wonderfully soft, bringing me comfort and a sense of calm. In a house where every object moved as if haunted, it was precious simply because it was the only thing that stayed still.
I lifted my gaze toward the long hallway.
To the right of the corridor hung heavy black curtains, giving off a gloomy atmosphere. The turquoise stained glass windows beside them were cracked here and there, adding to the air of dread. I tried not to show how frightened I really was.
Across those fractured panes, something whitish and hazy—fog, or maybe a ghost, I didn’t want to guess—slipped past now and then. But outwardly, I kept calm.
Only on my face.
Inside? Don’t even ask. I was scared out of my mind.
Even as I trembled inwardly, I forced myself to scan the hallway, all while trying not to move too much. To properly investigate I’d have to walk further, but… who on earth had the courage to casually explore a haunted mansion painted in turquoise and black?
What if something suddenly grabbed my ankle out of nowhere?
Of course, it wasn’t like I had never opened a door before. Sometimes when those ominous dolls stared at me too intently, I managed to chase them away and open the door to shove them out. So I remembered the hallway’s general appearance. But still…
‘There’s a big difference between slamming the door shut out of fear after a quick peek and actually investigating it like an explorer, okay?’
The scariest part was the simple fact that I seemed to be the only living human here.
I had to act like I wasn’t some weakling in the ghosts’ eyes, all while figuring out what this mansion was and how to escape it.
What kind of Korean Hell Mode was this?
Even if someone reincarnated as a villainess in a romance-fantasy or tragedy novel—no, even as a side character or an extra—it felt like they wouldn’t face this kind of literal life-or-death, soul-crushing danger. The thought alone made me want to cry. But still, I forced myself to stay calm—
CRASH!!!
“—Oh my god, jeez!!!”
When people are truly startled, they can’t even scream. They just freeze up. The saying “dying without even managing a scream” suddenly felt very real as I looked down at what had fallen to the ground and forced my lips to move.
“…What a pretty vase.”
Right where I had been standing seconds earlier, a white vase had crashed to the floor.
It must have fallen from a high place, because it had shattered into countless sharp fragments. Inside the wreckage lay a single blue rose. I stared at it silently, thinking of its meaning.
“Blue roses… How romantic. The impossible, an unattainable love…”
Of course, despite my casual tone, my fragile insides were cursing nonstop, nearly fainting. Should I just go back? Barricade myself in the room and stay locked away forever? Better eternal self-imprisonment than walking three steps further and ending up in some mysterious “accidental death.”
This was obviously aimed at me, right???
Up until now, the ghosts in the room had never directly harmed me. Sure, their presence strained my heart to its limits—but they’d never outright tried to kill me by dropping heavy objects.
“And… also the other meaning: overcoming the impossible, a miracle.”
Forcing my voice to sound steady, I reached into the shattered vase and picked up the blue rose. I half-expected to cut my hand on the shards, but nothing happened. Not a single scratch. Relieved, I continued with my “cool” performance.
“It’s almost like someone’s desperate for me to perform a miracle.”
Speaking both sides of the rose’s symbolism, I deliberately let out a mysterious little laugh. Maybe it was just madness born from the pressure to look unafraid, but once I started the act, I couldn’t bring myself to stop.
“And the one who tried to drop the vase on me this time must be…”
I raised my gaze deliberately, though nothing was there. It had fallen from above, so naturally I looked up. The body I had possessed—“Ellie”—had vertical pupils that gave a distinctly inhuman impression, making the act all the more intimidating.
“…A cute little one I should overlook just this once.”
I lowered my gaze again, tears nearly pricking my eyes.
Seriously.
Did I really just mutter out loud some cringy line I should’ve retired back in middle school, pretending to “forgive” whatever invisible thing was out there? Not exactly my idea of fun.
But survival demanded it. I couldn’t see the ghosts, but they could see me. They kept watching me. Talking to myself became a survival tactic, whether I liked it or not.
I swallowed my tears and took another cautious step—
CRASH!!!
This time it wasn’t a vase but glass that shattered. At this point, I couldn’t help but wonder.
Was my “ability” actually luck? Maybe I had the insane fortune of some detective game protagonist, always narrowly dodging death. Otherwise, how could I keep surviving—first nearly brained by a vase, now untouched even as stained glass rained down? Unless… the original Ellie was unbelievably lucky all along.
Keeping my face expressionless, I spoke:
“…Charlie Charlie. Bloody Mary.”
[Yes. I am Charlie Charlie.]
[I’m Mary. With Ellie stepping out, the mansion’s already starting to stir.]
Even though I had summoned them, I hesitated. Talking to them might help me solve some mysteries, but…
After all that bravado, asking “Hey, this is the first floor, right?” would be way too pathetic. So instead, I simply raised a finger to the ceiling and asked:
“…This place goes up to the fifth floor, doesn’t it?”
Meanwhile
The “monster” had stepped out of her room.
The man swallowed nervously, watching. When she didn’t retreat back inside, he dropped a large vase he’d prepared in advance, aiming for where she stood.
But instead of hitting her squarely on the head, it—
CRASH!!!
—slammed uselessly into the floor.
The reason was simple:
The girl had taken a single step.
“…Impossible…”
He clamped his mouth shut before the scream could escape. He mustn’t make a sound. “That thing” was clearly not human. He couldn’t risk provoking some unpredictable disaster.
Even though, at this distance, she shouldn’t have been able to see him at all, she’d moved as if to say, I know exactly what you’re doing, evading his attack with just one step.
Her face was like wax.
Her delicate golden hair and soft violet eyes should have left an impression of fragility and sweetness. But paired with those slit-like vertical pupils, the effect was eerie, terrifying.
The man knew it all too well. His throat was tight with dread.
Unlike him, peering through a telescope from afar, the girl relied only on her bare eyes—yet her gaze seemed to trace his movements. He could only follow her line of sight with his lens. She was looking upward, as though she sensed something. Her lips moved, but from this distance he couldn’t make out the words.
She must have been checking where the vase had fallen from. That had to be it. There was no way she could notice him—not with his distance, not with all his protective spells layered around him.
And yet…
When she lowered her gaze again and stared straight ahead, for just a moment—
…It felt like their eyes had met.
No. Impossible. At this range, with only the naked eye? He dismissed it as imagination.
The girl remained calm, impossibly so, for someone who had just narrowly avoided being crushed by a falling vase. He assured himself no normal girl could ever react like that and prepared the next “trap.”
CRASH!!!
The stained glass shattered. And this time, terror rooted him to the spot.
It wasn’t that she had once again dodged with miraculous timing.
It was that—
“…I could swear.”
The glass shards should have rained straight onto her. She should have been injured. But he had seen—
A woman.
A woman had appeared behind her, embracing her, deflecting the falling glass.
He blinked, rubbed his eyes.
“…Gone…?”
There was nothing there. Only the girl.
Even with all his protective charms in place, a chill ran down his spine.
Like a thunderbolt, realization struck.
This was why fortune-tellers and mediums had all warned against coming here. Why the ducal family—famous for their black magic and curses—hadn’t hired a single true “expert” for this job, settling for an ordinary man instead.
Not because they lacked money.
Not because they feared rumors.
But because anyone who could see already knew the truth of this mansion. They knew if they accepted, they would come to a bad end.
So none of them had ever agreed.
The girl took another step, toward where the man hid. By all normal logic—
“…She should’ve been hit.”
One step wasn’t enough to escape the falling glass. Even two or three wouldn’t have sufficed. By rights, she should have been hurt, maybe even killed.
But she was completely unharmed.
The stained glass hadn’t just shattered for show. It had been a calculated attempt at real harm. At worst, it should have been a fatal strike.
And yet—she was flawless.
