ICGS 06

Chapter 6

The girl simply kept walking.

Even when the turquoise stained glass beside her shattered with a loud crash, her face remained wax-like, unchanging.

That very stillness only deepened the man’s fear.

He didn’t know what exactly that fleeting “thing” had been, but… wasn’t it possible that the reason the girl had not been hurt was because of that woman?

Even if he tried to dismiss it as a trick of his eyes, seeing the girl unharmed left him with no other conclusion.

His eyes hadn’t lied—he had clearly seen the girl embraced by some unknown woman. The only reason the girl bore no injury… had to be that mysterious woman.

As he wrestled with this thought—

“…What the—!”

The man hastily ducked behind the wall. But just now, he was certain: the girl’s vertically-slit pupils had locked directly onto him.

It was impossible, absurd—but the clarity of her gaze left no room for denial. And more terrifyingly, her lips had moved, forming words directed unmistakably at him.

No ordinary human would have noticed. If the girl had been just a normal “person,” there was no way.

But this job did not treat her as human in the first place.

Clutching his pounding chest, the man gritted his chattering teeth and tried to steady his breathing in the shadows.

He had only one mission:

“No matter what form emerges from that door—”

He was to remain unmoved, and deal with it.

“For whatever shape it takes, it is not of this world.”

Such was the warning, given directly from the ducal house notorious for its black magic and curses.

The man didn’t know the exact reasons, only that he’d been told vaguely: a sacrifice had been mishandled, and this calamity was the result.

The mansion itself was dangerous, yes… but worse still, even if every other horror inside were combined, they could not compare to the “something” that lay within that room.

The man had seen much already:

First, he had witnessed the young girl banishing a doll.

Second, he saw dolls moving on their own, pounding on the door. At the time, he dismissed it as hallucination—until moments ago, when the glass shattered and he saw a woman embrace the girl. Only then did he realize none of this was illusion.

And now came the third time.

The girl had stepped outside the door and was beginning to look around the mansion.

The reason he hadn’t attacked earlier was simple: she had always retreated into the room without showing any interest in the outside world.

But now…

Now she was showing interest.

Now she was trying to come out.

The man wanted nothing more than to abandon the mission and flee. But he could not. The ducal house’s contract bound him here.

Nothing had happened while he was trapped.

Until the girl appeared.

And so, to survive, he would have to subdue her first.

Resolving himself, the man stepped from behind the wall and raised his scope toward her—

“…Hah!”

This time there was no doubt. Her gaze was fixed squarely upon him. Not vaguely forward—her eyes met his with chilling precision.

And with her right hand, she was pointing… upward, toward the ceiling.

The man ducked back behind the wall, breath ragged.

“…Wait a second.”

Something was wrong. At first, the girl’s gaze had been turned upward, toward where the vase had fallen… as if speaking to someone above.

He had taken comfort in that, thinking she hadn’t located him.

But… what if she had known where he was all along?

What if, the whole time, she had been looking at him, speaking to him, and he simply hadn’t realized?

But no—she hadn’t been looking directly forward. She’d been speaking upward.

As if conversing with someone there.

Gulp.

A dry swallow caught in his throat. The darkness around him suddenly felt colder.

What if it hadn’t been her imagination? What if something really was above?

But I’m right here, he thought. I threatened her myself.

And yet, at the very end, she had pointed not at him—but at the ceiling.

And she had clearly spoken to him while pointing upward.

That could only mean one thing.

Then… who—or what—was up there?

With a stiff, creaking motion, the man forced his head upward.

There, on the ceiling—

CRUNCH.

CRRRAAACK.

SQUELCH.

“Gyaaaaaaaahhh!!!”

Heeheehee.

Heeheeheeheehee.

Heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee.

Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee.

Laughter.

Endless, echoing laughter.

[He’s dead.]

[He’s dead! Ellie, you’re amazing!]

Suddenly, Charlie and Mary’s voices came bursting in, startling me. But—

Dead?

…Only something alive can die. Which meant—

The only other human in this mansion just perished.

I stood stunned, unable to collect myself. I’d been told there was only one other human here, brought as a “sacrifice.” If that human was dead… what now?

Was I supposed to handle all this alone?

Apparently unconcerned with my horror, Bloody Mary and Charlie scribbled gleeful words across the air.

[Incredible! I never knew a human could be killed so efficiently. Mary’s learned something new today!]

[Charlie here. Seems he was a man who didn’t believe in superstitions, so it took some effort. But now, the boy Ellie greeted is expressing his gratitude to her.]

I barely kept myself from gasping aloud.

What the hell are they talking about?

Who did I greet? I only looked at the ceiling.

…Then does that mean there’s something on the ceiling?

I burned with the urge to confirm it—but held back. I’d seen enough horror clichés to know: the curious ones who poke too deep are the first to die.

But then again… wasn’t I here to investigate?

I stood at a crossroads of life and death.

Do I look up? Or not?

If the ceiling held the key to escape, then ignoring it would doom me. And since I’d already ventured outside the room, I had to investigate thoroughly.

Resolute, I lifted my head.

The ceiling was empty.

I bit back the urge to tell Charlie and Mary. No need to let them know I couldn’t actually perceive spirits—there was no advantage in showing that weakness.

Still… the thought chilled me. If there was truly something there and I simply couldn’t see it, then how many other “empty” spaces around me actually hid something?

This mansion, overflowing with spirits, made that all too possible.

And why had that thing—whatever it was—claimed to be grateful to me?

All I’d done was walk bravely and keep my composure despite nearly dying. Why was I suddenly being treated like I’d killed someone?

Mary and Charlie had even said the human was far away. I wasn’t some sniper—how could I possibly have killed him?

So why were they cheering me on?

The implication was absurd: that I had somehow killed the mansion’s only other human.

Suppressing the urge to sob, I trudged forward. Their cheers rang hollow. I’d only survived by sheer luck—yet now I was being celebrated as though I’d orchestrated it.

So now… I was the last human left here?

Tears pricked at my eyes. I’d planned on a grand adventure—finding the other human, finding the exit. And yet, before I’d even begun, the other human was dead, only two steps outside his door.

Was this some cruel joke of fate?

Or… had my survival twice over somehow caused his death?

If he’d set traps that backfired and killed him, then it was his own doing. After all, who tried to murder someone as harmless as me?

I blinked silently at the carpet beneath my feet. Its deep crimson seemed to beckon me forward.

“So this place only goes up to the fifth floor, right?” I asked aloud.

[Charlie here. No. Only three floors.]

[Mary here. I thought you asked because of the human, but apparently not. Three floors—wait?]

[…Huh?]

Their sudden pause made my heart race. My pupils nearly jittered in panic, but I forced myself to remain calm.

“Three floors, then. So that’s what’s known.”

I said it casually, trying to sound knowledgeable.

After a silence, they responded: