Chapter 14
“Ugh!”
With a ragged gasp, I woke up—thankfully, inside my own room. Before I could even assess the situation, a blinding headache struck me.
“Agh…”
There’s always some pain after a return, but this time, it was far more intense than usual.
With my head feeling like it would split open, the memories that had just returned left me reeling.
‘If these memories are accurate, then Randolph—’
My husband hadn’t betrayed me. Tears welled up at the shocking realization.
That fact alone felt like it healed all the sorrow and pain of the past.
‘If you still loved me… then why—’
Why didn’t you come back? What happened to you? And why did I…?
The pounding in my skull echoed endlessly.
Death and return, over and over. A life that’s not truly living—how long must I endure this cursed, terminal cycle?
“Help me, Randy…”
For the first time since his funeral, tears streamed down my cheeks.
The soft sobs that began gradually turned into wrenching cries. And just as despair began to pull me under…
…a familiar voice called out to me.
—My apostle, Emily.
Why now…? As confusion cut off my sobbing—
A golden wave suddenly shimmered before my eyes.
‘…….’
Confused by the sudden dreamlike vision, I spotted a tall figure behind a fluttering cloak.
The moment I laid eyes on the “King,” I was overwhelmed with blind loyalty and yearning that surged from deep within my grief-stricken chest.
“Oh King…”
I reached out without even realizing it, and then came a hesitant voice.
—I wish to console your sorrow…
The next moment, his cloak billowed again, wrapping around me—
…and I drifted into a peaceful slumber.
“…Mm.”
Who knows how much time passed. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on my hotel bed.
The searing pain and crushing despair from earlier had vanished without a trace.
All that remained was a tender yearning for Randolph, and the warm echoes of the memories we shared… almost as if it had all been just a dream on a summer afternoon.
Most importantly, I now knew for sure—Randy hadn’t left me without reason.
That alone brought me peace of mind. I carefully organized the truths I had recovered from those memories.
Still, one question continued to gnaw at me.
‘Why?’
Why are there so many holes in my memory?
Is this amnesia a price for receiving the Yellow King’s blessing—or perhaps…
‘Had I started losing memories much earlier than I thought?’
A shocking but logically plausible hypothesis dawned on me.
Cuckoo, cuckoo. The wall clock announced the time.
“Eight o’clock?”
That meant I had already returned from meeting Lord Graham after receiving his telegram.
‘Perfect timing.’
Though I hadn’t installed a detector in Room 333 this time, I knew the spirit would appear at 3 a.m., so it wasn’t necessary.
What mattered now was how to defeat “Edward.”
‘He turned out to be far stronger than expected—a real poltergeist.’
When objects flew at me in midair, I figured that was manageable.
But to think he’d actually drop a chandelier on me? I hadn’t even imagined it.
Remembering the moment that massive thing shattered above my head gave me chills.
“…Never want to experience that again.”
How could I gain the upper hand next time?
After much thought, I came to the same conclusion—the only way to neutralize the spirit was to destroy the Book of Eibon.
‘In that case…’
There was only one method.
I got up immediately, armed myself, and headed back to Room 333.
Unlike earlier, when I had loudly entered from outside, this time I planned to hide inside the room and wait.
Inside the fireplace of Room 333.
It’s hard to say how long I had been hiding after slipping in unnoticed.
Just as my body began to stiffen from the cramped position, the door burst open and light filled the room.
“Could you help me find a book?”
Everything began unfolding just like it had before I returned.
Outside, strange and horrific chanting began to echo once again.
“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh…”
It seemed they were conducting a ritual to sacrifice Miss Melbourne.
I wanted to rush in right away, but to destroy the Book of Eibon properly, I had to wait for the perfect moment.
‘Just a bit longer… hang in there.’
With the Yellow King protecting my mind, I silently loaded my gun.
Before Miss Melbourne could finish the prayer ritual, I fired at “Edward” from within the fireplace.
Bang!
—Graaah!
As his scream rang out and the spirit connection weakened, I leapt from the fireplace.
—You!
Just before losing consciousness, Edward recognized me—but I had no time to respond.
I rushed to the unconscious Miss Melbourne and quickly snatched up the Book of Eibon lying beside her.
At that moment—
Whoooosh!
The spirit, fully separated from Henry Jekyll’s body, charged at me violently.
In that raging storm of malice, I calmly drew the dagger I had brought with me.
Crude and rugged, the dagger was known as the “Blade Imbued with the Power of the Elder Ones.”
A reward from completing a past mission given by the Yellow King, it was ideal for harming beings without physical form, like spirits or curses.
Kraaaagh—
The swirling black energy—mouthless, yet somehow screaming “No!”
Stab! I drove the dagger into the center of the Book of Eibon.
—KYYYYAAAAA!
A piercing shriek split the air. Crimson blood gushed from the stab wound.
It flowed down my arm, trying to attack me—but it was useless.
—I shall protect your body…
The Yellow King’s blessing. Though it manifested by his will, when facing unknowable forces beyond human comprehension, it triggered automatically.
As long as I had this protection, I was virtually invincible against supernatural entities.
With one exception—
‘It doesn’t protect against physical harm.’
Earlier, when Edward used poltergeist powers to drop a chandelier—
Moving it was supernatural, but it physically crushed me. That kind of death couldn’t be stopped by the blessing.
‘…In such cases, I have no choice but to die and return.’
Thud. I dropped the book.
Screaming on the floor, it began to disintegrate into dust.
Finally, it scattered into the air, and I slumped to the ground.
‘At last…’
I had destroyed the grimoire and defeated Eddie.
Realizing that, the tension drained from me, and fatigue flooded my entire body.
I muttered under my breath—
“Damn it all…”
And then, as if acknowledging my efforts, an eerie voice echoed in my mind.
—My true apostle, Emily Carter.
—I commend your bravery.
Was it just my imagination?
The King’s voice—announcing that I had successfully completed his mission—sounded almost… amused this time.
—Thanks to your achievement, the world’s destruction has been delayed by seven days.
…How stingy. What a miserly reward.
With that irreverent thought—which would have made the “King” shudder if he had heard it—
I fell into sleep once more.
How much time had passed?
“Mmm…”
Rubbing my dry eyes, I slowly opened them to see a familiar ceiling.
It was the bedroom of the Langham Hotel, where I was staying.
“Are you alright?”
Turning my head toward the urgent voice, I found Henry Jekyll sitting beside the bed, looking like he might burst into tears at any moment.
Judging by his posture, he’d been sitting like that for hours.
I opened my mouth, intentionally joking to lighten the mood.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time?”
But my effort was wasted—Henry lowered his head with sorrowful eyes.
“I’m truly sorry for dragging you into all this, Miss Emily.”
“All this?”
“I… really had no idea.”
Seeing the tear stains on his cheeks made my heart ache. He continued,
“I never knew I’d been committing such terrible acts while possessed by… ‘Eddie’ the spirit.”
“Henry.”
“And I certainly never imagined that same spirit would use my body to attack you.”
It seemed Lord Graham had told him some of the truth.
He’d always been prone to possession, even as a child—but he never thought it still affected him now.
“I… I have no excuse.”
It appeared Lord Graham had not yet revealed the most terrible part—that the spirit was Henry’s own biological father.
Perhaps overwhelmed by guilt, the large young man covered his face with both hands, revealing reddened eyes as he lowered them again.
“I was terrified you wouldn’t wake up.”
“…”
“If my foolish, reckless judgment had gotten you hurt—”
“Henry.”
I called his name firmly, and he looked up, voice trembling.
“I’m okay.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’m really fine. Calm down…”
I told him to take deep breaths, and he did, obediently.
Once he had calmed down a bit, I asked what had happened after I lost consciousness.
He replied,
“It was a boy working as a bellhop here—Jimmy Barry—who treated me after I fainted.”
Henry said he regained consciousness around 6 a.m., and thanks to Jimmy’s quick aid, he was physically fine.
He wanted to repay the boy somehow, but by the time he pulled himself together, Jimmy had already quit and left the hotel.
“Even the address and personal info he wrote down were fake.”
Jimmy Barry—an enigmatic boy with exceptional medical skills.
If my guess is right, it’s no wonder he fled as soon as he revealed his abilities.
Henry continued with a dark expression.
“Miss Melbourne still hasn’t woken up. She also received first aid, but the doctor said it’ll be a few more hours before she comes to.”
I was worried about her too.
‘Miss Sally was exposed directly to the Book of Eibon’s magic.’
Even if her body was unharmed, the psychological trauma would be immense.
Those exposed to such forbidden grimoires often experience symptoms like premature graying, seizures…
And in extreme cases, insanity, delusions, and eventual institutionalization.
“Jimmy said I harassed some of the maids while possessed by ‘Eddie.’”
That sounded just like Edward Hyde. Frankly, it was lucky that’s all he did.
“That wasn’t your fault, Henry.”
“No. I’m not worthy.”
Worthy…? What was he talking about?
As I blinked in confusion, Henry continued.
“I’m not worthy to speak of love to a woman as radiant as you.”
As I stared into his teary, earnest eyes, I finally understood.
‘So that’s what he meant by “unworthy.”’
A crushing guilt suddenly weighed on my chest. Most of all—he didn’t know anything yet.
…About the dark secret hidden in his own bloodline.
Lord Graham had asked me not to say anything—at least for now.
“I believe I must be the one to confess it.”
Even though the truth burned on the tip of my tongue, I swallowed it down—and offered another truth instead.
“If anyone owes an apology, it’s me, Lord Henry.”
