Episode 10
I had hesitated to enter the police station for this very reason. I knew he would interrogate me like this.
Should I ask to use the phone? Or just leave quietly?
As I pondered, I noticed the man sprawled on the floor. He trembled violently, too afraid to even move his head lest the glass beside him fall. I swallowed hard and looked at Eden. I had known, of course, that he was no ordinary man—but seeing it in action made it all the more clear.
Frozen, unable to respond, I watched as Eden smirked and introduced the man on the floor.
“He’s a domestic abuser. Do not misunderstand. This piece of trash isn’t even worth calling human. His wife was hospitalized because of the bottle he swung. She’s still unconscious.”
“My goodness… you kept him alive?” I blurted out.
Eden laughed, amusement flickering across his face. I would bet Harrison’s glasses that he was the one who had turned the man’s clothes into rags.
Eden checked the time on a pocket watch tucked into his pants pocket, then stood up.
“So… what brings you to the police station? Ah, perhaps you were inviting me to your estate?”
“I must have come to the wrong place. My apologies.”
He quietly shut the door behind him. Only now did I realize that if I wanted to use the phone, I would have to do it inside this tiny station—and in front of Eden.
Absolutely not.
No sooner had the door clicked shut than a glass shattered somewhere inside.
“Didn’t I tell you you’d die if you broke that? Or… did you want to die?”
A scream tore through the police station—sharp, agonized. I quietly turned away and left, heart pounding.
I will never get involved with that man.
Defeated, I had no choice but to go to the neighboring village of Kintney to find a phone.
Kintney was only slightly larger than Brunel—a rural village, just like this one. The only places with phones were the train station and the police station. And of course, all the phones were broken.
Is this even real? Nothing ever goes right.
I gave up on calling and decided to send a letter from the post office instead.
I would ask Harrison about the weapons he was sourcing—just in case firearms were included—and check whether anything unusual was happening in the capital. Most importantly, I’d hint that he should, if possible, find a way to get Eden out of this village.
It would take some time for the letter to reach him, but it was far safer than speaking in front of Eden.
On the way back to Brunel, I stopped in Kintney to pick up today’s newspaper.
[Society Party in Stagnation Without Gossip Girl… Where Has Cherry Sinclair Gone?]
Are they seriously claiming a lull in social gatherings because I stepped away for a moment?
No doubt the reporters had nothing else to write about and were bored. The following article was equally uninteresting:
[The Segrave Family, Long Thought to Be Myth, Proven to Have Ancient Artifacts…]
The Segraves were a purely legendary family—always appearing in children’s storybooks I had read growing up. Protectors of humanity, heroes against evil… stories straight out of a superhero movie. Children loved them.
If a family like this actually existed, I wish they would just show up and deal with the virus already.
I sighed deeply. No news about the virus monsters had surfaced, so I tossed the newspaper aside without a second thought.
With all errands done, I finally returned to the estate.
It was time to start the real work: repairing and cleaning the mansion.
I stood in the middle of the garden, staring at the exterior of the estate I had purchased.
The isolated mansion looked like a perfect setting for a ghost story—dingy and forlorn. Vanilla had never described it in detail, so I hadn’t expected it to be this bad.
The house had two floors, with sections of the exterior wall crumbling. The garden was overgrown with weeds. Inside, the furniture was neglected, piles of trash littered the rooms, and dust coated every surface like a fog. Honestly, it looked more like an abandoned house than a home.
Before I could start cleaning, I decided the mansion needed a name. Otherwise, I could never grow attached to this decaying place.
[Cherry’s Temporary Shelter]
I made a sign with that phrase, but it felt bland.
“Hmm. Lacks soul.”
I rewrote it.
[Cherry’s Temporary Shelter: Happy House]
Hands on my hips, I admired the sign quietly.
“Much better. Cute, finally.”
I smiled, satisfied. Little did I know that one day, Happy House would carry a significance for all of humanity. I had no way of imagining it at the time.
I placed the sign by the front door, brushed my hands off, and stepped inside. On the first-floor lobby, I spread out the mansion’s blueprint Vanilla had given me to study the layout.
The mansion was shaped like a rotated, two-story ⊓, with a central fountain. A garden surrounded the fountain, complete with a well and a small hut—likely a storage shed. The main gate could only be accessed by passing through this garden.
As Vanilla said, the garden is huge. Perfect for a vegetable patch.
I had never grown vegetables before, but I stocked up on reference books. Survival depended on it.
I can do this.
To survive the next two years, I needed to make the estate self-sufficient—food, water, defense from monsters.
Then, I noticed something odd on the back of the blueprint. Scribbled in pen, some lines were crossed out.
Huh?
Holding it to the sunlight, I deciphered the letters:
[Must remember. 1 is Brunel, 3 is the Spring, 6 is Hague, 8 is Nottingham.]
The rest was indecipherable.
What does this mean?
Brunel was a village, Nottingham a street in the capital—but what were “Spring” and “Hague”? A cryptic note.
I pushed it aside for now. There was plenty to do.
Priorities first.
Straightening my posture, I began exploring the mansion.
To the left of the lobby were two rooms, a banquet hall, and the kitchen. To the right were three rooms and a large salon.
One room near the kitchen and banquet hall received abundant sunlight and overlooked the garden. I decided this would be my main living room.
The room was filthy—an unmade bed, a broken wardrobe. But it had a fireplace, which made it surprisingly livable.
I’ll need to clean the fireplace too.
I sat in front of the fireplace. Some bricks on the mantel had collapsed, blocking the hearth. I removed them to reveal the grate inside, filled with charred logs and ash.
“Wait… what were they burning here…?”
Amid the logs, I spotted scraps of cloth. Partially burned. Pieces resembling a men’s jacket and the sleeve of a dress. Beneath them, a hard, white stick.
“This… could it be human bones?”
I jumped back, dropping the cloth onto the ash. Dust rose in a small cloud.
Cough… cough…
My skin crawled. For a moment, being alone in this room felt terrifying.
Once the dust settled, I peered again. The white stick was just chalk. Relief washed over me.
“Phew… what a scare.”
Still, I couldn’t shake the unease of seeing shredded cloth in the fireplace. I decided to leave the hearth for later.
The hallway outside felt colder, eerily so. My imagination ran wild.
No, Cherry. Don’t be weak. This is your home now!
Slapping my cheeks, I steadied myself and returned to the central lobby.
Right. Vanilla survived here in the original story. I can do this too.
I gritted my teeth and forced my courage.
