EHM 09

Chapter 09

‘I didn’t expect to encounter the Neapolitan ghost story here.’

Could this also be related to the evil spirit of Room 333?

With that suspicion in mind, I scrolled all the way to the bottom and came upon Clause 13.

[13.erruttadeRekh-en-efpanisutksheretInsideTheWallMirrorIwiyinB’knnetjerishesepunenhorefSefetjusnkekwSomeoneIsThereNyarlathotepbuyetyenBehindYouEmseshet’wdjuusenefuTurnAroundtehemyNyarlathotep]

This clause was completely garbled and unreadable.

I tilted my head, wondering if it was a printing error, but then I noticed the sentence written just below it.

[This guide consists of a total of 12 clauses. If you encounter a 13th clause, stop reading immediately.
And……]

‘Only twelve?’

But there had clearly been a 13th clause listed in the guide. Just as I was about to flip back a few pages in confusion, the final sentence caught my eye.

[Do not, under any circumstances, turn around.]

At that chilling warning, I suddenly felt a cold sensation run down my back, and an eerie sense of wrongness crept over me.

Without realizing it, I froze in place, stiff as a stone.

“……”

The only sounds were the ticking of a clock and my heart beating faster than usual.

Even so, I was certain of it. …Someone was watching me.

‘But I’m the only one in this room.’

The guide’s warning kept flashing through my mind as I felt a gaze piercing my back.

[Do not, under any circumstances, turn around.]

My mouth dried up, and my heart pounded uncontrollably.

My chest thudded with nerves, and then—

Riiiiing!

Suddenly, the room phone rang, and I instinctively turned around.

I gasped, breath caught in my throat—but behind me was nothing more than a large mirror hanging on the wall.

“…What the hell, I got scared for no reason.”

Relieved, I reached for the phone, but just then, the ringing stopped—and I heard a chilling whisper.

–I protect your mind……

Protect my mind? …Could there really be some evil mechanism within this guide?

‘Well, it’s not like the eerie parts of this hotel stop at one or two.’

The evil spirit of Room 333.

The strange guide filled with bizarre clauses that seemed to induce “mental contamination” just by reading it.

And above all, the existence of “Edward Hyde,” whom the “King in Yellow” himself had designated for removal.

…All of those things clicked together like puzzle pieces in my head.

“I see.”

Having grasped the rough connections, I nodded quietly to myself, waiting for a chance to meet the witness the bellboy had mentioned—Miss Melbourne.

The “Evil Spirit of Room 333.”

It had only started to become a real topic of conversation about a year ago.

Room 333—now often dubbed “the cursed room”—had seen a string of incidents happening nearly every month.

“Some guest who stayed alone in Room 333 slit their wrists.”

“There was a lover’s quarrel in Room 333 and one person died.”

“If you say the name ‘Eddie’ three times in front of the mirror in Room 333, the evil spirit appears.”

Worried about the hotel’s reputation, the management tried to quash the rumors by banning reservations for Room 333. But it didn’t help.

In fact, the opposite happened—reporters and cultish writers sniffing for a scoop came flocking in.

What was especially intriguing was that the ghost’s appearance had coincided perfectly with the time Sir Henry, the nephew of the hotel’s founder Sir Graham Langham, inherited the hotel.

However, only a few staff were aware of this connection.

For most, Room 333 was simply a place to be feared.

“Why is it me again…”

Assigned for the second week in a row to clean Room 333, the maid Miss Melbourne grumbled in front of the room door.

But what good was complaining?

She recalled something a colleague once said:

‘Sally, you’ve got the worst luck. How do you keep pulling the short straw like this?’

It was true.

Everyone avoided the job so much that they’d decided to use a draw-lots system—and she had managed to “win” it three times in a row.

“Well, whatever. Let’s just get it over with.”

Letting out one last sigh, Sally Melbourne opened the door.

A stunningly ornate room came into view, from the gold-accented ceiling to the marble-finished floor.

‘All flash, no substance.’

To a guest, it might be one night of luxury, but for the person cleaning it, it was a giant hassle.

She sighed and stepped inside.

“…Huh?”

Inside, standing in front of the table and mumbling something, was a familiar man.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome enough to resemble a Greek god.

It was Sir Henry Langham, heir of Graham Langham and the current head of the Langham Hotel in London.

“Uh… Sir?”

Sally cautiously approached him, but he didn’t seem to notice her presence.

He muttered about prayer time, about a prayer book—and then suddenly began speaking in a strange, unfamiliar tongue.

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh…”

The tone was completely different from his usual gentle voice.

A disturbing, guttural sound with snake-like hissing sibilants.

Just hearing it gave Sally the chills.

“Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn…”

Words so alien and unpronounceable that she couldn’t even begin to imagine how a human could say them.

Feeling a growing sense of unease, she crept closer—

And when he turned toward her, she jumped in fright.

“……”

His large eyes were sunken with dark circles, his normally clear eyes bloodshot.

His navy-blue irises darted around anxiously, as though searching for something.

It wasn’t just fatigue—he looked like he was possessed.

Sally stifled a scream, but—

Clunk!
She dropped her broom in shock.

Only then did Sir Henry look up and turn toward her.

“…Who…”

“Ah, um.”

Sally, heart pounding with dread, pointed to the name tag on her chest.

“I’m Sally Melbourne, assigned to clean Room 333. I didn’t know you were here, Sir…”

“…Room 333?”

“Yes.”

Sir Henry looked dazed.

He blinked several times, then suddenly looked around as if waking from a dream.

“Why… am I here?”

“Pardon?”

Sally tilted her head in confusion at the odd question—but then she felt a prickling gaze on her back.

She turned around, thinking someone had entered.

‘…Just the wall mirror.’

Must have been her imagination. But just as she looked forward again—

A human silhouette flickered inside the mirror and vanished.

Completely unaware of this, Sally asked cautiously, noting Sir Henry’s pale face:

“Sir, are you all right? Should I call your doctor?”

“No, it’s fine… I… I’ll be going now.”

He didn’t look fine at all—but a superior’s word is final.

Sally watched uneasily as Sir Henry staggered out of Room 333.

“What’s going on with him…”

Among staff, Sir Henry Langham—often called “the young master”—was known for his gentle nature and good character.

But most agreed he lacked the decisiveness to lead such a major business.

There were even vague rumors that he had a natural tendency to attract spirits.

Sally didn’t believe in ghosts and dismissed such rumors as nonsense.

‘Maybe he’s just stressed to the point of hallucinating.’

That was as far as her thoughts went.

She brought in the cleaning supplies left at the door, picked up the fallen broom, and began sweeping quickly.

…She just wanted to get out of this creepy Room 333 as fast as possible.

“Even if no one stays here, dust still piles up.”

Muttering to herself, she suddenly recalled something Jimmy had said earlier.

‘Miss Melbourne, I dropped your name earlier.’

‘Dropped my name? What do you mean by that?’

Jimmy was a bellboy who’d only been working at the Langham for a few months.

Judging by his appearance and manner of speaking, he was clearly from an educated background, but no one knew why he took on this job.

‘Maybe it’s just pocket money. He doesn’t work all day, after all.’

He was quick-witted and bright, which made him popular with guests—and earned him generous tips.

That morning, he’d come up to Sally and said:

‘You know the lady Sir Henry brought with him? Mrs. Emily Carter.’

Emily Carter.

Once the talk of the London social scene, now known as “the most beautiful widow in London.”

The fact that someone like her was staying in the hotel’s most luxurious suite at the invitation of the famously reserved Sir Henry was, in itself, huge gossip among staff.

‘Of course I know. But why?’

‘She’s really interested in the ghost of Room 333. You know she’s a horror writer, right?’

Of course she did. In fact, for working-class folks like Sally, the name “Emily Carter” had a different kind of fame.

Her horror novels were popular among the lower classes, sold as penny dreadfuls for just a penny.

‘But that stuff is off-limits to outsiders. Hotel policy—’

‘Come on, who actually follows that?’

Jimmy shrugged.

‘I already gave her most of the internal documents. Mrs. Carter has them.’

‘You idiot! That’s dangerous!’

Sally was about to scold him, but then her eyes fell on the banknote in Jimmy’s hand.

A ten-shilling note—far too much for just a tip.

‘If you bring her good info about the Room 333 ghost, you’ll get one too. She said she’d pay for anything about it.’